The Writing Machine

Stories by Christian Cloud Abraham

Stealing Wings from an Angel: Excerpt Page 2


Stealing Wings from an Angel Cover

So what shall we do? Shall we fortify him away from the world? Shall we set up a vast and deadly defense system to protect him from all that is evil—from all who do not think like us and may pose a threat to our little man? Shall we wage war against any other nation who wants to see our little man fall? Shall we kill for him, maim for him, torture for him? Oh we shall, and we have already. Ultimately though, it all seems so useless since the dragon that he shall let loose from the bottomless pit will most likely not be a great war machine, but it will simply be the world itself changing quite naturally and unnaturally the longer we continue to exist as a species. We may even just change our minds and ask him to let go, even beg him to end this silliness.

Shhhhh…hushhhh…the waves have a peaceful voice,
hushhhh…let them give you solace as you sleep on the shore, hushhhhh…the sun warms the skin, hushhhh…but will it be too much sun too soon? And what of when our star’s ego expands and swallows up the earth on its death march before imploding? hushhhh…CRI Cri cri…yes, let the sand seduce you into slumber as it slithers between your toes, hushhhh…
What lurks below the boulevards and thoroughfares of the mighty Los Angeles (the loneliest city in the world)? Sitting at the core of the Earth there may be an angry Indian pulling his bow string back, taking aim, a mountainous spearhead atop his quiver. “Hollywood,” he snickers. The bowstring sings, the quiver is delivered. The arrow hits its mark! The Tower of Babel penetrating the city like a raping maniac! The 405, the 101, the Santa Monica freeway break apart like a rotted sewer line. Sunset, Melrose, Mullholland, Hollywood Boulevard crumble like stale cornbread. HOLLYWOOD the sign is delivered to God, shaking away tick houses and flea cars of the rich and famous as water off a dog.

Hyaa! It’s only a dream you say.

Night comes, fill the hungry belly with savory foods and wines that make the mind supple. Replenish the empty soul-jar with good friends and hearty laughs between long drags off of home-rolled smokes that make your tongue furry. But sauntering home in the fresh air, don’t look up, Nemesis may be circling, ready to return in fifteen million years, granting the demons of the Ort Cloud the power and permission to pummel the Earth with meteors and mass extinction. Don’t look sideways, Betelgeuse may be ticking away on the horizon, counting down to the supernova that will caress our cities with deadly gamma radiation—and don’t close your eyes or you may realize that you can actually feel the rotation of the Earth turning your head round and round making you sick enough to puke on a rose bush.


About Stealing Wings from an Angel
Stealing Wings is the story of my life written from 1993 to 1996 as I broke away from my less-than-ordinary upbringing in the religious cult, The Way International, and stepped into a frightening new world no longer protected by the people and ideas of the cult. The tale is not for the faint at heart as it a story of suicide, destruction, and rebirth told both factually and from the fantasies created by my imagination and dreams as I attempted to navigate this dangerous change. Purchase a copy for your collection. You won’t be let down. - Christian

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© 2007 Christian Cloud Abraham

Posted on September 19, 2007 in
Emotion: Anger, Type: Creative Nonfiction