Dark Clouds

Early in the morning, in the bitey air of an unripe April, fine pearls of rain drew averted trajectories, trying to prolong their run towards the ground. The morning sunlight slipped through them, caressing their lopsided dances.

A freshly baked pretzel perfume mingled with the acrid, yet familiar note of wet tarmac. Similar to the inviting singing of a mermaid, that fragrant smelling trail traveled for blocks coming from who knows where, bringing the illusion of a tasty breakfast at hand.

On Madison, the sound of a distant pneumatic hammer, disinterested in that diaphanous moment of peace, reminded the city of its daily duties. The need to renew the infinite interweaving of order and chaos, the human sap of a monotonous and, at the same time, different becoming.

An old beggar was taking shelter from the drizzle under the entrance of the Met Breuer.

He seemed to come out of nowhere and, in a sense, gave the idea of having been there forever. The shabby headgear with ear-muffs could barely contain the explosion of white hair, gathered in damp, frayed cords due to the persistent drops of aerosol. The festive and bizarre trichological chaos reigning on his head only sharpened the contrast with the fixedness of his gaze, veiled by a cataract under the crusty eyelashes. Forearms and hands rested parallel, laying on a small and unusual pink plastic banquet that seemed to have been recovered from an abandoned nursery.

In front of him, carefully lying on the small pink table, he placed a typical cardboard square. Strangely enough, where a message of help was supposed to be found, not even a "everything helps" decorated the miserable panel which, laconic and brash together, was left naked to look at the sidewalk.

None of the hasty passers-by would have ever bothered to look down at the bizarre old man but, if someone had stopped for a while, perhaps he would have noticed that his open lips uttered a constant chant, a whisper of elusive and continuous vibrations.

"Now the distortion around him has become almost visible, how much do you think it could go on?". In truth, for several hours what had happened under the gray shed had captured the growing interest of two luminescent figures, on the other side of the road. From time to time, they exchanged positions to steal each other the best view. Their feet seemed to slip soft like fog on the cold sidewalk.

"Learn about silence once and for all, Duth. Would it make sense to even just hazard a guess in front of this.. thing?".

"But how is it possible for a human to perform the Chant, or to just gather.."

"And instead, if you bothered to listen, you would have noticed that this supposed human has just added the sixth voice," the archangel interrupted him, punctuating the words as he tried to separate red pomegranate grains from their peel.

"I think we've observed enough, we do not want him to start opening a seal, do we?", he continued, trying to resume his usually compassionate tone, "We have to report about it to Metatron. Stop stalling, let's move".

The old man's eyes suddenly gnawed them, like a blacksmith's hot pincer. Duth did not even have time to finish wondering how a simple homeless had been able to identify them on the subtle plane from which they were watching him.

An Autie Anne's Pretzels van sped in the direction of East Harlem, sprinkling the city with its fragrant trail. For an instant, the driver seemed to have heard a curious song, but he didn't pay too much attention.

Image source: Public Domain Pictures

The rain felt an instant urge to hit the ground harder. The sun sought refuge among the clouds as the heavens began to weep for the inhabitants of earth. The sky took a snapshot of the earth, the lightening as bright as a light beam from the divine himself. They coughed a crackle of thunder and wept harder.

Legs hurried, forcing ripples of water to ring around the city. Cars sped by, humans ran as if chased by bees. Despite all of these, the beggar remained seated by his spot undisturbed and still. The only movement came from his lips, each motion squeezing out sounds inaudible to the mortal ear.

The two celestial beings watched as if entranced. There was an ominous feeling in the air. It was as real as the aura that surrounded them. The feeling thickened with each second, threatening to congeal into a cast that would trap them for life. Duth worked his fingers, his eyes bounded to the beggar’s moving lips, his hands itching to summon his bow. His companion remained still, his eyes fixated, not on the beggar, but at a sight several miles from the Met Breuer.

The archangel saw the van turned a corner and continued its movement. He shifted his eyes for a brief second as if to confirm that the beggar still had his eyes trained on them. He knew he had to make a report. He mission here was purely reconnaissance but there was a feeling that something devilish was going to happen. The archangel was not one to ignore his instincts.

“He’s still looking at us. I think he’s going to do something.” Duth’s whispering voice floated into the Archangel’s mind. Although Duth was mind speaking, his voice was soft and hushed expressing a fear that the beggar could eavesdrop into their mind conversation.

“Still your thoughts, Duth. I only need to make sure of this one fact and then the portals will receive us.” The was something about the Autie Anne's Pretzels van he couldn’t place.

Duth eyes wavered when soft sounds filtered into his ears. He first thought it was mind speak but the words were barely audible. He concentrated his energies in an effort to decipher the strange words.

“Still your thoughts!” The archangel’s warning came in too late. Duth lifted his bow and shot an arrow. The arrow searched its way through the now empty streets until it found its target in a man’s heart.

Dark clouds threw their blanket over the city, obscuring the view of a thousand angels with their swords drawn. The beggar began another chant with a smile on his face.

The Archangel knees weakened until they couldn't no longer sustain his weight. A lone tear trickled down his face. Duth had just killed the savour’s great grand father before his time to be born.