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- From: blewis@be.seas.upenn.edu (benn bet nun nun lewis)
- Newsgroups: alt.prose
- Subject: STORY: ANGELS by Benn Lewis
- Message-ID: <97932@netnews.upenn.edu>
- Date: 17 Nov 92 01:54:25 GMT
- Sender: news@netnews.upenn.edu
- Organization: University of Pennsylvania
- Lines: 53
- Nntp-Posting-Host: be.seas.upenn.edu
-
- Benn Lewis
-
- Angels
-
- Requiem d-moll
-
- "What is it?"
- "You know angel dust," you say, "this is angel shit."
- "Oh, hashish."
- Shhhhh.
- "That's so sacrilegious," she tells you.
- Is it?
- Flames and it turns to dust. Dust to dust and ashes to
- ashes and together you're off to the hall.
-
- Introitus
- Eternal rest give to them, O Lord
-
- The concert box is lined with onyx, the trimming extends
- from below the railing to the rim of the ceiling, and the corners
- are ornamented with small polished black balls.
-
- Dies Irae
- Day of Wrath
-
- The choir vibrates the seats and the walls. You feel its
- pulsating, deep booming; it steals your breath and puts it into
- her. You feel the bass on your breastbone. Every extensions of
- your chest is counteracted by the prophetic music pushing against
- the septum. She grabs hold of your hand tight for balance and
- you hold on too.
- The lulls encourage a reason for the wandering eye. Your
- eyes dart across the people down below, and the prophets in the
- choir. But, you can not avoid the onyx trimming that draws you
- and her in. She squeezes tighter and it wraps around your throat
- stealing you voice and clenching your thought.
-
- Confutatis
- When those cursed enter flames
-
- The death march.
- The deep onyx has only two faces to display. An anti-
- reflection of your worst conception; your own face strewn in a
- deep ashen, burnt charcoal, ebony ominous tone amidst the
- teachings of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. They pull deep within
- the chest, stealing what breath you might have while the violins
- extract your wandering eye and yet force them once again to look
- back into themselves.
- You shut your eyes and it's still there, in stereo. In
- quadraphonic, in octophonic, in infiniphonic.
- She turns towards you and says her crotch feels weird.
-
- Amen.
-