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Literature Text
Forget their taste anytime soon
The angel enters the other angel’s shrine bowing, its halo a faint autumn purple.
“Do you have a name?” it asks the other one sitting beside a window. “I mean, right now.”
“I don’t. I don’t need one right now. Do you?” the other one replies, not turning towards the door. Then it adds “You are welcome.”
“Thank you. As for the name, yes I do have one. I was asked to pass it on to you, after making sure you don’t have one already.”
“I had quite a few recently. None now,” nods the one still sitting. “Do speak it to me then.”
The one in the door moves in, crossing the small, bright room. It casts shadows, and there’s a loose feather trailing a circle slowly behind it in the air. It is a black feather, tinted purplish by the autumn halo. When the angel reaches the other one, it leans to it and whispers something in its left ear.
“No,” the sitting one says, not a shadow crossing its pure face. “I cannot bear that name now. I am too light for the task it implies.”
The raven-winged one reaches into a pouch of its robes. Its arm loses some of its colour.
“That is why I was told to bring you some of these.”
“What do you mean, these?”
“Pills. A new invention of internal affairs. It’s called a depressant, and it comes in pills. It helps taking on certain names. Its effects do wear off after a while, I’m told. I’m not yet sure it is true, however. Giving you the name has already helped a bit, but I’ll just have to see if I can forget their taste anytime soon.”
The angel enters the other angel’s shrine bowing, its halo a faint autumn purple.
“Do you have a name?” it asks the other one sitting beside a window. “I mean, right now.”
“I don’t. I don’t need one right now. Do you?” the other one replies, not turning towards the door. Then it adds “You are welcome.”
“Thank you. As for the name, yes I do have one. I was asked to pass it on to you, after making sure you don’t have one already.”
“I had quite a few recently. None now,” nods the one still sitting. “Do speak it to me then.”
The one in the door moves in, crossing the small, bright room. It casts shadows, and there’s a loose feather trailing a circle slowly behind it in the air. It is a black feather, tinted purplish by the autumn halo. When the angel reaches the other one, it leans to it and whispers something in its left ear.
“No,” the sitting one says, not a shadow crossing its pure face. “I cannot bear that name now. I am too light for the task it implies.”
The raven-winged one reaches into a pouch of its robes. Its arm loses some of its colour.
“That is why I was told to bring you some of these.”
“What do you mean, these?”
“Pills. A new invention of internal affairs. It’s called a depressant, and it comes in pills. It helps taking on certain names. Its effects do wear off after a while, I’m told. I’m not yet sure it is true, however. Giving you the name has already helped a bit, but I’ll just have to see if I can forget their taste anytime soon.”
Literature
parentheses
i was going to ask you to hold back my hair
if i started to heave
but it's cut in mourning
for the fawns dying under the chalky
moist hands of children,
in mourning for newspaper print
threatening suicide off the tips of your eyelashes,
saying things like
i could fall faster
i could convert more
i could shine my face brighter than your sands
Literature
The Grey Man
A soulless stare to distant shores
In wind or rain or scathing storms.
No window pane to halt what pours
Down on his head or on his heart.
A gift that gods bestow on him;
A lack of soul to tear apart.
Regrets of love and raging hate
Within him absent, vacant like
His stare. His stoney glare a state
Of blissful solitude to save.
When under reign of fickle minds
He does not flee to distant days nor
Departed weeks. For he, you see,
Does not waver when times are dire;
He stands steadfast against the fire.
Literature
Stoning Jezebel
crudely, she whispers obscenities in my ear
my chain-smoking Jezebel plucking
my tendons like a lyre
Jezebel, my unquiet muse
tapping inscrutable messages on my eardrums
and peeling back my eyelids just
as she begins to feed me Delphic dreams
stumbling my steps she leaves
cigarette burns underneath my toenails
and gives me a discount on her
mescalinic hallucinations
I strangled her with pharmacist's hands
fed her a poison-laced cup of
decaf black tea.
hid her body in the back of my mind
and slept off my homicidal weariness
'til she kicked my skull awake
an incensed fetus, fiercely
screaming obscenities in my ear.
I kiss h
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Featured in Groups
[perhaps not entirely what you'd expect it to be. 
]
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Featured by DLD (Daily Literature Deviations).
Thanks, guys.
+
Having received a kind invitation recently I decided to give membership a try and joined The Written Revolution, a dA group whose icon you see above this paragraph. I wonder what they think of the 'humour' in this piece.
]+
Featured by DLD (Daily Literature Deviations).
Thanks, guys.
+
Having received a kind invitation recently I decided to give membership a try and joined The Written Revolution, a dA group whose icon you see above this paragraph. I wonder what they think of the 'humour' in this piece.
© 2007 - 2023 gaborcsigas
Comments25
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Overall
Vision Originality Technique Impact<img class="avatar" src="a.deviantart.net/avatars/t/h/t…" alt="
" title="thewrittenrevolution"/>As I was the one to invite you, it's a pleasure to critique on this.
First off, I must admit that when I read that the angel's halo was purple I was sort of taken aback. It was unusual, but it made me think of a "sad angel", also because of the "autumn" word associated with it. And it seemed to fit with the angel itself, if it makes sense. <img src="e.deviantart.net/emoticons/s/s…" width="15" height="15" alt="
" title=" (Smile) - "/>It also surprised me when the second angel says "You're welcome", before the one actually thanks. Not because usually you should wait for someone to thank you before saying it, but because I couldn't understand what the first angel should be thanking for...
However, after reading the entire prose, I started to think it probably thanks the other one because it can give the second angel the name... and so be freed from it. Have I guessed right? I'm curious.
Then, the ending really made me smile. In a sort of ironic and bitter way, but I smiled nonetheless. It was a very weird, intriguing prose to read.
My interpretation of it seems to tell me that the piece is about... "categories" in which we tend to put people. We pass to each other "names", which are nothing more than titles given by others to try and briefly describe us. Again, I am probably wrong. <img src="e.deviantart.net/emoticons/n/n…" width="15" height="15" alt="
" title="Noes! - "/> But I try, hehe.As for the humour, I think that the one of the pills gave it away as a slightly ironic piece... by the way, that really was clever.
In conclusion, cunning and unusual prose. <img src="e.deviantart.net/emoticons/c/c…" width="20" height="20" alt="
" title="Clap - "/>=HtBlack