Wednesday’s Son

What would you do if you found out that you’re meant to be a vessel for something you thought was a fairy tale? All of a sudden two crows turn up in your life and you just accept them. Then you find out you’re some kind of prophetic figure foretold in some old book that stinks of urine and old blood. You don’t even want to know how either of those fluids got on there and why. You wear a trench coat and fedora. You have a cat who eats all the cheese in the refrigerator and you don’t cook because you’re barely home often enough to use plates. Luckily, the cat knows how to charm the neighbors. You don’t even remember getting the cat to be honest. Lately you’re realizing that you don’t remember a lot of things. But you remember her. She was your world, once, a long time ago. Then she dies. You had to investigate her murder. That is when the weirdness started. You think she might still be with you, hiding out in one of the crows, but between the weirdness underground and the brick wall of ignorance above ground you’re not really in a position to take some time off and figure stuff out. So here you are, 300 meters below ground and looking at one of the most beautiful sights you’ve ever seen in your life. Liquid brilliance. Bright blue crystal shot through with light. Mirrors on mirrors painting everything in this amazing luminous fantasy. People mill around the edges of the lake chatting and laughing and generally looking like something out of a commercial for some new real estate development. You try to shield yourself from it because you feel like your heart is going to break if you don’t, but you can’t help it. The light and the sound of music filling the air seeps into you, into your ears, your blood, your soul and it takes you with it. Tears well up and you just stand there like an idiot grinning and weeping. The crows on your shoulders look a little embarrassed for you and decides to fly off around the lake. They take off on opposite paths keeping low over the heads of the people. They swing back around and come back to their perches. And then you swear they start whispering in your ear and you suddenly realize that you know everything that everyone is saying and sharing and you know all of them by name and where they come from and what their story is. You weep some more, but this time from sadness because there is so much pain here and so much love and so much loss. And then some men in weird robes start surrounding you. You think you probably should have realized they were preparing for this but the overwhelming feelings and need to soak in all the feels has left you a little dopey and none too alert. You think maybe you should call the captain and warn him that something big is coming but you also realize that right now, you don’t care and you also know something really important is about to happen to your really sad little life and the magnitude of that makes everything else seem irrelevant. You mumble an under-the-breath apology to Trish because this is really going to delay the solving of her murder but you kind of get the feeling she’ll understand. The crow on your right shoulder squawks softly as the blindfold slips over your eyes.

This is the prologue to a novella I am almost finished writing and hope to publish at the beginning of 2020.

Copyright Jodie Mann 2019

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