Fresno, California; Friday, September 10, 2021

The Language of Angels

I drove onto the freeway on-ramp and straight away, I pulled to the shoulder of the road to call Laura again.

It was a narrow lane and like a crazy person, I effectively blocked the freeway to make the call. To make matters worse, as I dialed Laura, the cell phone’s battery went out.

A car then pulled up behind me, so I punched my car in reverse to get back onto the street to fix the phone situation and you should have seen the look on the other driver’s face.

“What type of madness is this?” the guy seemed to say.

“It’s love sickness, sir.” I wanted to respond. “A bad case.”

Now on the street, I saw some guys I knew from high school; they were standing around a fire pit not far from the freeway. I approached them and they said I could use their charger.

As I waited for the phone to charge, they asked what the emergency was and I told them I was trying to call Laura. This piqued their interest, but I didn’t divulge any more information. I wasn’t ready to announce to the whole world that I was still in love with her.

Before I knew it the phone was charged, and the leader of the group had already called Laura on my phone, and she answered too! They had a full-on conversation; they spoke in a mysterious, ancient language—a mixture of soulful gutturals and warblings full of charm.

Innately I knew: this was the language of Angels.

 

To be continued

See also Ashtray Wasp

Stereo Story #691


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PJ Grollet is the scribe for the six-volume series, The Book of Dreams. He’s been published in Horror Sleaze Trash, A Thin Slice of Anxiety, Impspired, Bull: Men’s Fiction and elsewhere.