The Day of Judgment

The summer heat expanded the iron bar in his mind. When he dreamt about the hangman’s mask, he saw himself stooping over a bowl of melted handcuffs. Before the condemned hour his bowels bled the tears of human indignation. He was sick by the ornate patterns on the chair, “The noose will straighten my crooked back,” he thought.

He requested a toothpick to dislodge the bone of lost opportunities- it was denied. The priest stood like a cross on the scaffold, “Bow down and ask for forgiveness,” he said. Gabriel had a front-row seat in the theatre. Only the chosen ones get the chance to witness their brother’s execution. The angel was there when he died before—a long time ago—when the aged hands of the Father hurled him down from heaven. This time, he will float; he will fly like a human.


Published by: flatlined84

A thinker outside the quarantine zone. The words on this blog will assault your senses, would make you curse in the holy name of Bard. If that's not enough, leave a piece of your mind in the comments section- the writer is on the dole and is always hungry.

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