Sunday, 1 December 2013


by John Xero

I remember when the Niphim first appeared, descending with the late snows, eight-winged winter angels, each beautiful and unique. I was there. It was the second decade of the twenty-first century, when the age of science ended and the new age of myth began.

They say the Niphim attend to the forgotten, the weak, the helpless, leaving frost-furred corpses, transporting broken souls to some safer place beyond the cruel humiliating ice of human existence.

I say otherwise. I have seen the screams frozen in each serrated feather, seen the Niphim's wings spread further each year, layered with agony and despair.

Author bio: John Xero is looking forward to the new age of myth; he's halfway there already, mentally. His head is full of stories, old and new, and sometimes they fall out, onto the internet.

This is the New Plan -
Tweets: @xeroverse

Mercy is part of 101 Fiction issue 2.


  1. Gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous--and a new myth of your own making. Definitely got the legs for a novel here, if you wanted.

    1. Thanks, Becky. =)

      If I was inclined to go anywhere I think maybe it would be a collection of shorts. Crafting a new mythology... now there's a tempting idea. =)

  2. So, so beautiful! Raw poetry -- I love it!

  3. I shall not look at snowflakes in the same way this winter.
    I would not want to witness the melting of the screams.
    Magnificent, John.

    1. The melting, at least, might set them free. Here, I think, they are trapped more permanently...

      Thank you, Kymm. =)