I remember when the Niphim first appeared, descending with the late snows, eight-winged winter angels, each beautiful and unique. I was there. It was the second decade of the twenty-first century, when the age of science ended and the new age of myth began.
They say the Niphim attend to the forgotten, the weak, the helpless, leaving frost-furred corpses, transporting broken souls to some safer place beyond the cruel humiliating ice of human existence.
I say otherwise. I have seen the screams frozen in each serrated feather, seen the Niphim's wings spread further each year, layered with agony and despair.
Author bio: John Xero is looking forward to the new age of myth; he's halfway there already, mentally. His head is full of stories, old and new, and sometimes they fall out, onto the internet.
This is the New Plan - http://www.xeroverse.com/p/ebooks.html
Tweets: @xeroverse
Mercy is part of 101 Fiction issue 2.
Gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous--and a new myth of your own making. Definitely got the legs for a novel here, if you wanted.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Becky. =)
DeleteIf I was inclined to go anywhere I think maybe it would be a collection of shorts. Crafting a new mythology... now there's a tempting idea. =)
So, so beautiful! Raw poetry -- I love it!
ReplyDeleteThank you, Asuqi. =D
DeleteBeautiful imagery! Wow!
ReplyDeleteThank you. =)
DeleteI shall not look at snowflakes in the same way this winter.
ReplyDeleteI would not want to witness the melting of the screams.
Magnificent, John.
The melting, at least, might set them free. Here, I think, they are trapped more permanently...
DeleteThank you, Kymm. =)