It is not a peaceful experience. It is not a humbling experience. It is to look upon the vastness of space and to see the marks of a creator, visible in all of its glory, but too vast for the human mind to fathom. It is to look upon the stars and to see the order in them. The reason for their existence. To touch the corners of how a mind must have thought along each step as it built up the cosmos. With purpose, but without a reason that I can comprehend.
I feel my head smash against the dashboard. It takes a moment for my eyes to open, and I can feel pain all over my body. I take a deep breath and feel newborn aches twist their way through my chest. Many shallow breaths follow, each afraid of being too strong still. The airbags did not deploy. I want to be angry but I feel too tired even for that. I move myself to get out of the car, almost involuntarily, trying to calm myself.
"Be not afraid." It says.
I turn towards the voice fast enough to feel another sharp pain jab through my side. It is the scariest moment of my life. The creature before me stands larger than any man of this Earth, easily towering over even the largest of us. It's face lays covered in eyes, with a large single orb at the center. I notice that I can still think in my terror, and that realization fills me with wonder. It smiles at me. A pleasant smile in its shape and warmth, but it rings false to me, like the smile of a beast trying to lure in its prey. It is not used to smiling, I feel the certainty of it. All of it's teeth sharp and vicious. It is the smile of a hunting beast. Upon its wings every feather is a different color, a different pattern etched in. It is not a stealthy predator, I realize. Something that must be capable of living in its environment without any danger from anything around it.
As I stare it waits. It looks back at me without blinking, with the smile still etched on its face. It is still as a statue and I cannot see even a breath escape it. This must be death. I think to myself. I died in that crash thinking about God and now Death has come to collect.
"Am I dead?"
"No." It replies and I see no movement in its mouth. I feel another chill pass through my spine, when there should have been relief.
"What are you?"
"I am an Angel."
"Why are you here?"
"I am here for you."
"For what purpose?"
"You are the prophet of this age."
I feel an involuntary giggle escape my throat. I must be dying and hallucinating in my last moments. It is the only explanation that satisfies me.
A feather falls off the wing of the Angel before me. As it touches the ground I smell fire and feel screams up my spine. The angel looks upon the feather, then looks at me, then looks back upon the feather and turns its smile upside down. It looks back at me with that saddened look now stuck upon its face. Every instinct of mine tells me it's lying. It is trying to emulate sadness for its audience. A part of me wants to run, but curiosity wins out in the end.
"Why does the feather sadden you?"
"Upon my wings is the weight of lives uncountable. Every feather that falls is the end of a world."
It is telling the truth.
I am still standing, the wounds that I had forgotten to tend to are feeling less tender now. If I were dying I expect I would have died by now. This is real. This is happening.
"Why me?"
"The prophet in all ages has been one who could see beyond any other of his time. Who was closer to the ways of God than any other being of the land. Capable of seeing things for what they were, better than any other eye."
"Why now?"
"A mind like yours is born once in millennia. You are wounded. You must move now." It points its finger towards the woods, away from civilization. Once again I wonder if I am being hunted. If I tried to run it is not like I have much of a chance of escaping it. If it wanted me dead I would be dead by now. What if it wants to torture me. I have no way of knowing. Realizing that I have nowhere else to go. I move in the direction of its finger. Passing it by as another feather falls to the ground.
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Tedious, repetitive, boring.
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Hello Man, thank you for your review of the post, can you elaborate as to how the text is tedious, repetitive, and boring? Thank you. Have a nice day.
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This passage basically distills all the issues with the piece. The voice is passive, boring, somehow at a distance. The writing seems to describe stage directions more than dynamic actions.
This is a vignette, not a story, and the writing is not good enough to carry it. You should have a distinct beginning, middle and end. Something should be resolved
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I see. Thank you for your criticism. Have a nice day.
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