Feather

 mf sf


There was an angel on my bed. No, really. An incandescent, feathery
white-winged, ten-foot-tall angel. Don't ask *me* how it got there. I don't
even go to Mass. I left the Church when I was twelve. In any case, no nun I
ever talked to mentioned the possibility of vaguely-gendered, stark naked,
holy visitations. Not even the saints got naked angels.

What did I do? What would any sane person do in that situation? I don't
know. I shut the bedroom door, scant moments after the cat fled, squealing
as if all the legions of hell were after it. Perhaps the Inquisitors had
been right about black cats. I leaned against the door, and waited. Then it
beckoned.

It was definitely an "it." When it wasn't definitely a "he," or a "she."
Have you ever on a melting August afternoon ignored your mom's yells to open
the fridge door and just stand there, basking in the tingle? The angel, it
glowed. Only it glowed heat so hot it froze you -- or maybe it was cold so
cold it burned.

I stepped over to the bed, noticing the sheets weren't on fire, or covered
in ice. Just me. The angel never said a word, although later I would have
sworn it was singing hallelujahs the whole time. My roommate never heard a
thing. The angel drew me down to her breasts, the long white feathers
dissolving into rose-pink skin. No pores. Nipples hard as the proverbial
rocks.

Later, when my clothes had gone to never-never-land with a brush of angel
wings (they never did come back), I brushed my nipples against hers, only to
find the feathers had come back. It wasn't until I sat, impaled, that I
noticed he had pointed teeth.

The roommate didn't even hear my screams, as I rode the angel's hard body,
locked in an embrace of biting teeth and engulfing wings. I don't know what
angel semen does to human flesh -- the angel shifted right after my orgasm,
gone out of me as if it had never been there at all. The breasts reappeared
and disappeared at will. The wings never changed, though.

Tired, I struggled not to fall asleep, and it grinned its first grin as I
watched it slowly dissolve into a tacky plastic crucifix on a blue-bead
rosary. Then the rosary dissolved too.

You figure out why it came. Maybe it fell in love, or it's a new kind of ad
campaign, or I'm going crazy, or Lucifer's gonna approach me with a real
sweet deal and all the angel slaves I want thrown into the bargain. Me, I
have to go to work in the morning, and if it weren't for the feather-shaped
burn mark between my breasts, I'd put it all down to a momentary psychotic
episode and try not to stress too much. As is, I'm just waiting for the men
in the white coats or some clearer instructions.

If there's a God watching over me, wanting something from me, then It's
gonna have to be a lot more convincing to talk me into joining Its side. But
if you see Sister Agnes anytime soon, tell her for me.... nah, don't tell
her anything. I don't think her universe could hold an angel like that one.
I do have a bit more hope for a God who'd create a universe that can. Maybe
that's all It wanted.