Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Demons are Another Matter
“I think the bump on his head sent him off his rocker.”
A voice, like plasticine mixed until grey, filtered through Harold’s consciousness and he sat up, wincing at the sudden pain. “Are you all right, lovey?” A kindly older lady in a fawn coat touched him lightly on the arm. “You were ranting on about an angel clocking you with a two-by-four. We thought we were going to have to call for the padded van.”
“I’m fine thanks.” Harold stood, cautiously. “I was dreaming. As if I could see angels!”
The small crowd laughed and dispersed. Jasfoup just smiled.