Inflight Simulator

<h3>Inflight Simulator</h3> The flight home is always better than the flight there. Your business is done; and there’s no need to look over spreadsheets, or make phone calls, or whisper each slide of your presentation to yourself over and over in your head to make sure you’ve got it right. There’s no reason to even look professional. A pair of sweatpants and whatever roomy sweatshirt you can find will do. The flight from Atlanta to Logan International isn’t so bad; only a couple of hours at its worst. It’s long enough to justify the price of the plane ticket, but short enough that it doesn’t feel like a slog. It’s just the right amount of time for someone to catch up on a bit of sleep or watch a movie or two. For you, you’ve taken to a bit of light reading. Over the past year or so of making this flight, you’ve become quite the connoisseur of trashy airport romance novels; Bill Conroy’s Down the River of My Heart, Lacey Taylor’s Furious Shadow, and Michael Sharpgetter’s Atmospheres Apart: A Romantic Space Opera being some your personal favorites. They have enough of a plot to keep you interested with just the right amount of purple prose and flat characterization to give them that air of laughable garbage. Truly sublime. Today’s piece of choice is The Ballad of the Fallen Angel by Bernadette Ballinger. You picked it up at news stand in the terminal a couple of minutes before you boarded. You’re familiar with Ms. Ballinger’s work; you wouldn’t call her a pro, but she’ll certainly get you through the night. And the flashy cover art looks promising; a mostly-nude Scotsman sporting nothing but a kilt and a pair of burning angel wings. You’re certainly in for quite a romp. Ballad is quite a bit longer than your usual fare, almost five hundred pages if you include the lengthy post-script, so you probably won’t be able to finish it on this flight. But at the very least you’ll have something to hold you over for the next one. You grasp the corner of the paperback cover between your fingers and pull it open to the first page with a satisfying crack of the spine. A blast of fresh newsprint smell hits you square in the face and you can’t help but grin. Your eyes fall on the first line. Though his wings were shorn, when my eyes first met his, I knew there was something otherworldly about him. You slap your knee and it takes all that you have to not burst out laughing. You continue reading. Though his wings were shorn, when my eyes first met his, I knew there was something otherworldly about him. He came to me as if he were a dream. His long hair- “This is your captain speaking,” you hear crackle over the PA system. “We’re experiencing some minor engine trouble. Nothing too bad, this is, uh…it’s pretty standard maintenance, and we just, uh…didn’t do it. It shouldn’t take more than half an hour to get us up and running, but I know that our engineering team is working with another flight at the moment, so it could be just a bit longer." You hear a collective groan throughout the cabin. “So we ask that you just sit tight while we get this figured out. Uh…the flight attendants should be coming around with complimentary drinks and snacks to hold you over. So, uh…once again, we thank you for your patience and thank you for choosing American Airlines.” It’s a mild aggravation, but nothing too serious. You’ve nothing awaiting your immediate attention back home, so being delayed an hour or two shouldn’t be too awful. On the plus side, you might have time to get all the way through your book by the time your flight lands. You go back to reading. Though his wings were shorn, when my eyes first met his, I knew there was something otherworldly about him. He came to me as if he were a dream. His long hair was like- “Great. Just great,” you hear a voice from the seat next to you. “I should’ve known.” You peek up from your book to see an aging man in the seat next to you. The creases in his forehead are dipping low over his tiny eyes and his cracked lips are bent into a frown beneath a frazzled mustache. He has his arms folded tight against his chest and he’s shaking his head slowly. “I should’ve known.” [[“Yeah, it sucks.”]] [[“Well, that’s American for you.”]] [[Say nothing and continue reading]]

“Yeah, it sucks,” you say softly and turn back to your book. Though his wings were shorn, when my eyes first met his, I knew there was something otherworldly about him. He came to me as if he were a dream. His long hair- “You know why this is happening, right?” the man says, this time directly to you. [[“The pilot said that it was engine maintenance.”]] [[Ignore him and continue to read]]

“Well, that’s American for you,” you laugh as you turn back to your book. Though his wings were shorn, when my eyes first met his, I knew there was something otherworldly about him. He came to me as if he were a dream. His long hair- “It’s more than just American,” the man says, this time directly to you. “Hell, it’s more than just the airlines. You know why this is happening, right?” [[“The pilot said that it was engine maintenance.”]] [[Ignore him and continue to read]]

You continue to read. Though his wings were shorn, when my eyes first met his, I knew there was something otherworldly about him. He came to me as if he were a dream. His long hair- “You know why this is happening, right?” the man says, this time directly to you. [[“The pilot said that it was engine maintenance.”]] [[Ignore him and continue to read]]

“I think the pilot said it was engine maintenance or something,” you say. “Engine maintenance?! Yeah. Sure. Okay. Engine maintenance.” The main laughs sarcastically as he leans back in his seat. He shakes his head slowly. Your stare at him for a bit before turning back to your book. Though his wings were shorn, when my eyes first met his, I knew there was something otherworldly about him. He came to me as if he were a dream. His long hair was a brilliant scarlet cascade of- “I mean, c’mon now. Engine maintenance?” Do they really expect us to believe that?” [["...yes?"]] [["What do you mean?"]] [[continue to read]]

Though his wings were shorn, when my eyes first met his, I knew there was something otherworldly about him. He came to me as if he were a dream. His long hair was a brilliant scarlet cascade of- “I mean, c’mon now. Engine maintenance?” the man chimes in again. You let out a frustrated sigh. “Do they really expect us to believe that?” [["...yes?"]] [[continue to read]]

"It happens a lot," you offer. "It's not really anything to worry about." "Yeah!" the man laughs. "That's what they want you to think." [["What do you mean?"]] [["Yeah, well...you know."]] [[Ignore him and keep reading]]

You weren't really planning on making any friends on this flight. You just want to read your book. You continue. Though his wings were shorn, when my eyes first met his, I knew there was something otherworldly about him. He came to me as if he were a dream. His long hair was a brilliant scarlet cascade of curling flames and- "I mean think about it," the man says, "they wouldn't just not do maintenance. That's their job, man. No way. There's definitely something else going on here." [[Ignore him and keep reading]] [["Yeah, well...you know."]]

"Oh, yeah. Well...you know," you offer meekly. Hesitantly, you turn back to your book. Though his wings were shorn, when my eyes first met his, I knew there was something otherworldly about him. He came to me as if he were a dream. His long hair was a brilliant scarlet cascade of curling flames and- "It's the poles, man," the man chimes in again. Slowly, you close your book again. "Yeah, buddy," he says, "I don't just go around sayin' this to anybody, but you know the poles switched, right? Like, the North pole and the South pole." [[Try to keep reading.]] [["No they didn't."]] [["Oh...okay."]]

"What do you mean?" you ask. "I mean think about it," the man says, "What did the pilot say? 'They just didn't do maintenance?' That's their job, man. They wouldn't just not do maintenance. No way. There's definitely something else going on here." [["What do you think it is?"]] [["Yeah, well...you know."]]

"What do you think it is, then?" The man pulls forward in his seat and cranes his neck down both aisles. He pulls in close to you. "Alright," he says, suddenly whispering, "I don't really just go around spewing this kind of stuff to anybody, but you seem like a pretty trustworthy kind of person so I'm going to clue you in." He peers around the cabin again. "It's the magnetic poles." "The what?" "The magnetic poles, man. Like the North and South poles." You pause. "What about them?" He glares into your eyes. "They switched." He nods slowly. [["Switched?"]] [["No they didn't."]] [["Oh...okay."]]

"Switched?" "Yeah, man. Switched. The North pole became the South pole and the South pole became the North pole." "What?" "Yup, on December twenty first two thousand and twelve our magnetic poles decided to do a flip-flop. I don't know how they did it, but them Mayans saw it coming a mile away." [["So what does that mean?"]] [["The Mayans predicted the end of the world, not the poles switching."]]

"No they didn't," you say flatly as you turn back to your book[[.]] Though his wings were sh- "I know. It was hard for me to believe too. But, they did. On December twenty first year two thousand and twelve...just like the Mayans predicted...right on the money. North became South, and South became North. Now everything's all messed up." [["The Mayans predicted the end of the world, not the poles switching."]] [["Yeah..."]]

You don't want to be rude, but you don't really want to get into a whole conspiracy theory. "Oh, uh...yeah, okay," you say as dismissively as you can. You try to return your book. Though his wings were shorn, when my eyes first met his, I knew there was something otherworldly about him. He came to me as if he were a dream. His long hair was a brilliant scarlet cascade of curling flames and rose petals. His eyes...two sparkling- "Yeah, I'm telling you buddy," the man continues, "North is South and South is North. At least, they are now. And you know when it happened? God damn, December twenty first 2012. Right on the dot. Yeah, that's right, those Mayan sons of bitches knew a thing or two, I'll tell you what." [["Yeah..."]] [["The Mayans predicted the end of the world, not the poles switching."]] [[Ignore him and try to read|Try to keep reading.]]

You try to read as fast as you can. Thoughhiswingswereshorn,whenmyeyesfirstmethis,I knewtherewassomethingotherworldlyabouthim.Hecametomeasifhewereadream.Hislonghairwasabrilliantscarletcascadeofcurlingflamesandrosepetals.His eyes;twosparklingdiamondsinkingintoapearlsea.He "Yes, my friend. December twenty first, two thousand and twelve. The North pole became the South pole, and the South pole became the North pole. It's messed up, man, it's messed up." [["Yeah..."]] [[Ignore him and try to read]]

Thoughhiswingswereshorn,whenmyeyesfirstmethis,I knewtherewassomethingotherworldlyabouthim.Hecametomeasifhewereadream.Hislonghairwasabrilliantscarletcascadeofcurlingflamesandrosepetals.His eyes;twosparklingdiamondsinkingintoapearlsea.Hismusclesrippledunderneathhisskinlike Nope. No dice. "They predicted it, and it happened. The government is spoon-feeding us false information, because they'd deny it ever was a thing. But you know, it's okay." He puffs up proudly. "I know the truth. I know it's been happening." He points to a button on his shirt that says "Government Denies Knowledge." You're pretty sure that's just a clip from the intro to The X Files but decline to say anything, lest you open up a whole new proverbial can of worms. [["Yeah..."]] [[Continue reading.]]

Perhaps if you keep placating his inane babble, he will get the hint that you're not interested, or it will become background noise that you'll be able to tune out entirely. "Yeah...those Mayans...they did some great stuff..." You say, rather vaguely. But as soon as you return your eyes to the book, your insides smouldering to read its warm, comforting words, to have them glaze smoothly over your skin like the look on the objectified Scotsman's gaze on the cover -- "Yeah, they sure did." His tone is admiring. "But you know who really got stuff right? Nostradamus, man. Nostradamus." [[Gah nevermind nevermind do not engage keep reading.|Continue reading.]] [[Nostradamus? Are you for real, dude?|"Nostradamus? Seriously?"]] [["Sure, uh, yeah. Gotta love those French guys. Lots of great stuff came from the Middle Ages."]]

You scrunch your nose. This is gettin' weird, and you're starting to tire a little of playing along with his little delusion. Now that you've gotten him talking, perhaps you can knock a little bit of sense into him. "The Mayans predicted the end of the world, not the poles switching. They didn't have an understanding of magnetism, anyway. How could they foresee something that didn't even exist yet?" He waves his hand, as if to say pish-posh, how pedestrian of you to be so small-minded. "Lotsa people have predicted things that didn't exist yet. I'm pretty sure the Mayans predicted the intertubes. That's what predicting is. Besides, Nostradamus said a lot of things that eventually happened." [["Like what?"]] [[Nostradamus? Are you for real, dude?|"Nostradamus? Seriously?"]]

You open up the cover, now well-worn, but you've already begun to give up hope. Your eyes glance over the first few words, and -- "I know what they're doing," he reiterates in a hushed voice, leaning closer to you against your silent wishes. You can smell a musk that reminds you of your uncle's bedroom when you go to put your coat in there during family holiday parties. "I know that when people find you out, they take you away." You stare resolutely downward at the page, though you know nothing will come of it, and the words look like little more than runes. "And if you're not careful -- they'll take you away too! THEY'LL GETCHU JUST LIKE THEY GOT JIMMY! Or...Johnny. James? I don't remember his name, honestly -- they got to me and erased his name, just like they erased him!" [[IGNORE HIM SUPER HARDCORE]] [["Okay, seriously man, that's enough!"]]

"Yeah, seriously. Nostradamus. Haven't you read any of the quartets? I don't remember which one, man, but he predicted a lot of things. 9/11. Landing on the moon. You know, that kinda thing. You know, I bet he was working with the Mayans..." He trails off. [["This is getting really absurd."]]

"Like what?" "Have you read any of the quartets? I don't remember which one, man, but he predicted a lot of things. 9/11. Landing on the moon. You know, that kinda thing. You know, I bet he was working with the Mayans! And all together, they knew. They KNEW about December 21st, 2012, they knew about the poles switching, they knew everything! The evidence is overwhelming!" "Really?" You ask, intrigued, "is that what they said?" "Yeah it's what they said! Look at their text, look at the calendar! It's just the government covering it all up. And you know why they're doing it?" "Why?" "Because they want you to think that everything kept going on as normal so that they can use the new magnetic environment to their advantage! Think about it! If the poles switched, all of the compasses would be wrong, wouldn't they? And then that means everybody would be traveling the wrong way. You know how our eyes actually see things all upside-down-like but your brain turns 'em right-side-up? That's what's happening what we travel, but like, for real. And our cell phones and our computers and all the electronics --" he sucks in a breath over his somewhat-snaggled teeth, as though bracing for impact, "-- they're wrong, too. They're using way too much radiation. The magnetic fields that we use for electricity are just, like, wrong. They're tracking us, man." There's a short pause, and you're not really sure how to begin to respond. "And the government, like I said, they'll deny everything and lock you up, just like they did to this one guy I know." [["What guy?"]] [["This is getting really absurd."]]

You think there wasn't anything about any of this in any class you've taken, but he's making some compelling arguments, so you continue to indulge his monologue. "Can you explain what that means when the poles shift?" "Well," he says with a sagely air, "all of the compasses would be wrong, wouldn't they? And then that means everybody would be traveling the wrong way. You know how our eyes actually see things all upside-down-like but your brain turns 'em right-side-up? That's what's happening what we travel, but like, for real. And our cell phones and our computers and all the electronics --" he sucks in a breath over his somewhat-snaggled teeth, as though bracing for impact, "-- they're wrong, too. They're using way too much radiation. The magnetic fields that we use for electricity are just, like, wrong. They're tracking us, man." There's a short pause, and you're not really sure how to begin to respond. "And the government, like I said, they'll deny everything and lock you up, just like they did to this one guy I know." [["What guy?"]] [["This is getting really absurd."]]

"Uh...what guy?" You dare to ask, closing your book and laying your hands flat on top of it in your lap. "What happened?" You feel somewhat like a kid listening to a ghost story at a campfire. "Well...nobody knows, do they?" He said matter-of-factly, brushing some sort of invisible dust from his shoulder. "That's what happens with political prisoners and people who find out more than they're supposed to. They Disappear." You could hear the capitalization on that last word. "Some say he just got lost during a ski trip, but I know what happened. Jimmy there -- or maybe it was Johnny or Jones, I don't remember exactly -- he went for a regular ole vacation, but the government knew he was goin' somewhere remote, and they snatched him. And poof!" He paused for effect, moving his hands apart in midair as if to simulate an explosion of some kind. "He was gone. Never heard from 'im again. And do you know why?" "No." "I'll tell you why. I think the government wants to keep us dumb from these Mayans and Nostradamus and the poles shifting. But I know true knowledge. I know what the secrets are. Join me." [["Tell me more!"]]

"You know, I was kind of following you for a bit there, but this is getting a little out of control," you offer evenly, closing your book cover and laying your hands flat on it. Patience. "I'm not really in the mood to be having conversations right now. Your theory is interesting and all, but now I'd prefer to get back to what I was doing, thanks." The man looks a little stung and dumbfounded. "But -- but I'm trusting you with this! It's really important stuff, man. Just look around you! This stuff's been predicted by so many different people for a long time, and you can see it happening! How else do you explain political prisoners? How else do you explain UFOs? There's something funny going on and you can't --" "Please!" You cut him off, getting a little irritated with his hamfisted speech. "I'm done with this conversation. I'm going to read now." "Who cares about a dumb book when the world is falling apart around you!?" [["Okay, seriously man, that's enough!"]] [[Press the attendant call button.]]

You're a little intrigued. "So what does that mean? That they predicted the future?" "WHAT DOES IT MEAN!?" The man (whose name, you realize, you have yet to ascertain), very nigh shouts this exclamation, so loudly that the two ladies and gentleman in the row ahead of you jump with surprise and turn around to shush him with a silent index finger to the lips. "Sorry." He responds in a quieter voice. Perhaps it has just dawned on him that this is an important secret and not everybody would understand its importance or even deserve to be privy to such sensitive material. "What does it mean? It means...everything. Didn't you take a basic physics class?" "Well...yes. In high school, but...that was a long time ago, and I don't think we ever talked about the possibility of poles shifting." "Of course you didn't. The government, they don't want you to know! They spoon-feed you everything. The schools are run by the government, man. Everything you know, they tell you --" " -- I went to a private Montessori school, actually -- " " -- and besides, it wasn't just the Mayans who saw this coming." He continues, blatantly deaf to your previous interjection. "Nostradamus saw it, too." [["Can you explain what that means when the poles shift?"]] [["Nostradamus? Seriously?"]]

You sigh and respond with a half-hearted, "Sure, uh, yeah. Gotta love those French guys. Lots of great stuff came out of the Middle Ages..." The book continues to lay open in your lap. "Right! Like the guillotine!" That's it. [[Press the attendant call button.]] [["Okay, seriously man, that's enough!"]]

In your discomfort with this whole situation, you find yourself shifting your legs, crossing and uncrossing them and moving your feet. In one of these cycles, your foot brushes against the carry-on bag sitting against your feet, and, to your surprise, out falls a modest set of ear buds. You'd forgotten -- you'd borrowed them from a friend before you left, but had fallen asleep on the way there and forgot you had them. What a deus ex machina! I mean, what a coincidence. Anyway, regardless of what the fellow keeps saying, you gladly pluck them off the floor, plug them into your phone, and find some music to help tune him out once electronic devices are allowed to be used. You are a paragon of patience, moral virtue, and FAA regulations compliance. The man gets to keep babbling to anyone who listens -- of whom you are not one. Instead, you get to happily cozy up with the first 250 pages of [[The Ballad of the Fallen Angel]] and enjoy your flight home without any further problems, and everyone lived happily ever after.

At this point, you're just downright fed up. "Okay, seriously man, that's enough! I just -- I had a had week where I had to give about nine presentations to stuffy wads in too-tight, too-expensive business suits, and all I wanted to do on this flight was sit down, relax in my gosh darn sweats, and read a horrible brainless romance novel and talk to nobody. I don't care about your conspiracy theories! They're harebrained to the point where even I have to argue with you because they're -- they're -- they're cockamamie!" Your voice has risen to a higher volume and intensity than you've heard in a while, at least since you were yelling at the television set during the Super Bowl, but this has got your blood nearing the point of boiling. "Leave me alone. Please, please, leave me alone." You say, trying to center yourself. You turn back into your book, when out of nowhere, the man next to you swats it out of your hands! The nerve! "You say you want me to leave you alone? You'll be thanking me one day! You'll be thanking me when you see the signs and you can move underground! But maybe --" he bares his teeth and speaks even more quietly, " -- maybe you're not good enough. I was wrong about you." "Obviously!" "I hope you get run out to Alaska with all the other people who I told and who laughed...that'll learn ya!" "Guy, I swear, you've got five seconds --" He lays a hand on your arm, perhaps a method to try to bring you back to reality, but then you show him reality when your fist collides with his face. Your book falls softly to the floor. Soon enough, the federal marshals have escorted you off the plane and, you think to yourself ruefully, you'll have plenty of time alone and quiet in lockup to enjoy [[The Ballad of the Fallen Angel by Bernadette Ballinger.|The Ballad of the Fallen Angel]]

As he continues babbling, you stare resolutely forward, reach up your hand, and push on the call button for the flight attendant. Mercifully, she arrives within a few moments. "May I help you, sir or madam?" She asks, flashing a dazzling white customer service smile. "Yes, please. I'm having an issue with my seat mate. He is harassing me. I am tired and would like to move. Is there any way I can change my seating assignment?" You look at her pleadingly. She looks between you, looking rumpled and tired and holding a colorful and lewd book, to the man, wearing a fisherman's vest dappled with UFO and other conspiracy-related regalia, and gives you the slightest look of sympathy. Perhaps she had overheard the whole debacle; the plane was not huge and the man had not been talking as quietly as you supposed he thought he was. "Well, I can't guarantee anything, but this flight isn't entirely booked up. Let me check the flight roster to see if anybody hopped on at the last minute, but if so, there seems to be a free seat near the window in the back." She points towards the A-side of the aisle. "Thank you," you say hopefully, sinking back into your chair with a renewed vigor to ignore this fellow. It would seem that you'll get off after all; you can move and enjoy your book and hopefully that batty old codger will bother somebody else. ... The attendant returns after a few more painful minutes with this man with news: "It looks like we do have another seat open! If you'll follow me, we can get all of your things moved over to Seat 27B." Your heart leaps. Finally a moment that belongs only to you and the unrealistically beautiful and perfect man-creature of your book. You arrive at Seat 27B, and even though it's further back in the plane, the seat is softer than any first class seat could be. You sink in, and finally begin your book as the plane takes off. Though his wings were shorn, when my eyes first met his, I knew there was something otherworldly about him. He came to me as if he were a dream. His long hair was a brilliant scarlet cascade of curling flames and rose petals. His eyes; two sparkling diamonds sinking into a pearl sea. His muscles rippled underneath his skin like... "WAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!" The baby in the seat behind you shrieks. ... This is Hell. [END] [[Credits]]

Maybe it's the effect of having had a long week and being tired, maybe it's that you need a change in your life -- you're not sure why, but you find yourself being fascinated by the tales this man is spinning. Everything seems to connect and make sense! Alien abductions and time skips...and, come to think of it, your phone did do something weird on that day that was supposed to be the apocalypse. Maybe it was. Maybe it was. Throughout the flight, you grow more and more enraptured by what he's saying. By the end of the flight, he's read you a few initiation rites from a cleverly-hidden-and-definitely-conspicuous handbook. He's given you a badge that says "Government Denies Knowledge." It feels weightier, even if only in metaphor, than a simple pin. And you've got his number and a way to meet up with him to talk further. You're an initiate. You're going to start hunting for real truth, and real justice. Rather than a chapter of a book you bought at Hudson News, you've opened a new chapter of yourself. You're embarking on a wicked new journey, all because you listened to a wacko nut on a plane. Good for you! [END] [[Credits]]

A game by Andrew Petersell, Jenna Galka, and Cris Elie. Get to us at our podcast, <a href="http://www.regularlyscheduledprogramming.com">Regularly Scheduled Programming</a>. Thanks for playing! [[Start over?|Start]]

<img style="height:800px" src="http://i.imgur.com/tVLYOJS.jpg?1" /> [[Next Page]]

Though his wings were shorn, when my eyes first met his, I knew there was something otherworldly about him. He came to me as if he were a dream. His long hair was a brilliant scarlet cascade of curling flames and rose petals. His eyes; two sparkling diamonds sinking into a pearl sea. His muscles rippled underneath his skin like dancing eels mating in a small, sexy pond of lust. And that’s where I found him – naked, save for a kilt that may have served better as a washcloth, in the bog outside of my romantic cabin in the woods far-flung into the great state of Maine. “Hello?” I called demurely, having seen a streak of fire fall from the sky, too small to be any sort of plane or projectile or space debris, but too big to be remnants of the fireworks some rebellious celebrating teens had been shooting off a few camps away. Celebrating what, I knew not; the sky was hardly even dark enough to perceive the explosions of color against a dim, cloudless sky. It was twilight now, the peculiar non-light caressing my skin like the hands of a lover once, long, long ago. Indeed, that sky, in its non-light and non-dark was the perfect in-between, an androgyny of hours. There had been some reports of strange things happening around here lately, strange unexplained who-knew-whats, but I wrote them off as the locals having cabin fever and wishing phenomena into existence. But then, not twenty minutes ago –not a shooting star falling, no, but a shooting something at least, appeared to land near the small pool of water not a quarter of a mile from my rustic back doorstep. It rustled my jimmies. That pool of water reminds me of lovers long lost, lost in their eyes, lost in their love, surrounding me like safety and home. It’s been so long since I’ve felt that sweet caress of unbridled lust. So I took my flashlight – just in case – and my mace – just in case – and went off into the night. At the very least, it seemed irresponsible to let a forest fire start. And yet as I grew near, my perfect dainty feet treading swiftly upon the loose, moist earth (for, of course, I had abandoned shoes, preferring to feel nature with every part of my body), I heard not cries for dismay, not the crackling of potential danger, but song. It was unmistakably some sort of tune. But it was not joyful; it was an eerie, lamenting melody, circling around itself like a stream eating its own tail, arcing and then falling into a swift, sad decrescendo. The sound was surreal, a siren’s song that made my arm hairs stand on end. Good thing I grabbed my mace. The trees opened their arms to the pond, and within...there he was. Our eyes met like cosmic strings between stars, his own filled with a sadness that made my heart ache to the very sinew. As though he were some forlorn baby swan, rejected by its mother, he unfolded his perfect, testosteroneous body – manliness oozing from his very pores -- and that’s when I saw them. Wings. Wings, cut down to stumps, feathers scattered with ashen lily pads upon the surface of the viridian water. Was this an angel? [[Back Cover]]

<img style="height:800px" src="http://i.imgur.com/z0Wg3GS.jpg?1" /> [END] [[Credits]]

<img style="height:800px" src="http://i.imgur.com/y6wEYGH.jpg" /> [[Return|"No they didn't."]]