A Place Where Things Join, Four

“Your heavenly reward,” said a voice in Marian’s dream, though the pronouncement had no conclusion, it was only a sound like a gong that prefaced another scene in which she was driving with Kelly. The seaside air buffeting her face was sharp and real, had a personality as though it were speaking; its breath was the vastness of the ocean, the water, the salt, the decay of things, the eruption of new things from the infinite smallness of the unseen world into the present—the dust-form of living creatures, things coming to be. An eagle? Kelly could see the eagle, flapping its wings, surfing on the private turbulence of the sky up there, something they couldn’t know, something it knew to negotiate, interpret, use to its advantage. But there were owls up beside the eagle, that Kelly could not see. Two regal-looking white owls that looked down at her, and didn’t fly at all but seemed to pass emotionless and unreal through space itself, not in agreement with it like the eagle, not as an animal stuck inside that lowest of dimensions, looking around inside it, frightened, troubled and discrete as the eagle was—these two owls were one and the same, and they travelled on something other than air. “Look!” said Marian, “look at the owls up there!”

Kelly scowled and cursed, because he could not see the owls—they were not there.

Thanks for checking out this little part of my short story.

Did I tell you I wrote a novel? You can read it here for free, or get it for your e-reader on iBooks, Amazon or Kobo. Or you can just say you read the book, and donate five bucks down below. Go on.

Gabriel Muoio


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s