Sunday, April 5, 2015


Candlelight guttered through poorly glazed window panes. Just at the edge of the pub’s orange glow, there lay a splayed figure swimming in rum. Cool blue evening light turned to black sky while the retch wretched and floundered on cold cobblestones.

Two goblins danced around him. One was pink and piggish; it wallowed in the broken soul’s abject surrender to unmet needs. The other was like a walking snail with a sickly fungal growth in lieu of a shell; it supped upon the hopeless torpor of the self-damned man. They laughed, happy in their horrid work. The two cruel things scampered in shadows, pelting him with road apples and sundry other indignities. Cruelest of all, they set more mugs to his lips to keep him sodden and sad.

Far away on slate shingles, great green owl eyes watched it all. The muse could see straight through the man, to the shining pain and subtle wit held prisoner within. It spread black wings and carried with it warm zephyrs. It fell upon the goblins like a diving hawk and drove the minor parasites swiftly away.

It too needed something from the hapless man sleeping in the street.

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