The angels must have needed him they say. But why would the angels need a blacksmith? Sure he could fix gates but he didn't work with pearls. Did they need him to be one of them? He'd look stupid with wings, in a floaty white gown. It just wasn't his style. And anyway, he didn't want to be an angel. He wanted earthly pleasures. He wanted to stay here with me. He wanted to spend the summer cavorting on hillsides and beaches with his sweetheart, making love in meadows and woods. He had plans. Big plans. Don't tell me that the angels needed him. I don't care how rusty their gates are. They could have found someone else to oil their hinges, taught someone else to polish their halos, someone older maybe, someone who was tired and done with living, someone who had no-one to love. And please don't tell me this happened for a reason, that this is for the greater good because what you're telling me is that he and I deserved this shit and that it will all work out better in the end. There is no happy ever after in this narrative. This narrative is fucked. And I should know, I'm a writer for Godsake. No-one would tell this story to make any kind of higher moral point. It's a horror story and a bad one at that. I'm not normally an angry person but if the angels come near me, I will tear their wings to shreds and twist their halos out of shape. Sure, the angels might have needed him but nobody needed him more than me.
Sunday, 10 April 2016
Rant - Things not to say
I write for children, young people and adults. I write to process my feelings and to escape them. I write to help other people process their feelings or also to escape. In March 2016 my beloved partner died suddenly just 8 months into our relationship and now I write to remember him and to process my grief. You can contact me via my website: beverleywrites.co.uk or follow me on http://www.facebook.com/swimmingthroughclouds/
I also have a Soundcloud account with music to accompany my blog here;