“Fallen Angels” was published in Ember: a journal of luminous things vol. 1 issue 1 on May 31, 2015
“Fallen Angels” opening paragraphs
“It’s a bad luck sky.” Lizbeth’s mom pointed a finger at the first shooting star of the evening. She made the sign of the cross—Catholic style, even though she was a Baptist.
“Stars cast out of heaven like fallen angles. Bad times are on the way.” Mom said the same thing every August when the meteor shower came. Sometimes she was right, like when the Germans invaded Poland. Sometimes she was wrong, like when the family cow gave birth to twin claves. Sometimes she was half-way-wrong, like when the neighbor boy, Tommy Hotabee, came back from the war last fall—crippled but still alive.
Lizbeth helped her dad carry wooden lawn chairs from their front porch into the yard. She lined them in a row like the seats in the Orpheum Theater in Idabel, four pine chairs painted white so they stood out like ghosts. One for mom, one for dad, one for Lizzy, and one for Tommy, who looked like he’d fall over if he didn’t sit down pretty soon.
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