Sunday, 1 March 2015


by Simon Williams

Green was the colour of the angels as they swept down, swords trailing sparks which tumbled like falling stars and settled in our upturned eyes. I do not know why they left the children alive; we did not deserve it.

Many years later, when the red sky had returned to morning, my grandmother, just before dying, whispered to me the secret of the family.

With my sister I went to the forge on the bank of the shining river and in the ashes found my sword. I shook off my cloak and unfurled my green wings. The sky closed forever.

Author bio: Simon lives in Edinburgh, works, reads and writes very short stories. Some can be seen at Simon tweets at @simonsalento.

Secret is part of 101 Fiction issue 7.

No comments:

Post a Comment