Angels and Demons

Pop Fiction

WITH HALLOWEEN soon upon us, we’re considering briefly the idea of angels and demons. Are they mere metaphors for the emotions of good and evil– or unseen forces influencing us in mysterious ways?

As Hamlet said, “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”

Which brings us to our new fiction feature, “Fatima” by Karl Miller. Novella-length noir in which a pair of insurance investigators look into two deaths at a construction site. There is more to the deaths than appears at first glance– and more to the story. Not your typical detective tale. We know you’ll enjoy it.

Next to an overturned fourteen-foot aluminum fishing boat, its engine blade stopped in a last futile cut at the air, two fully-clothed bodies, face down, gently moved back and forth with the motion of the waves.


(Art: “Demon Seated” by Mikhail Vrubel.)

4 thoughts on “Angels and Demons

  1. Frank Walsh

    Wed, Oct 21, 6:46 PM (20 hours ago)

    to New
    Yo King and Mandy, howz about I forward yaz a Halloween goth beat punk rock opera po’m that if you like yuze can do any thing wit’t ?


    from, F!, October19, 1994@Scofflaw

    Where we tune in the latelatelate television monster movie
    neither of us are sure if we’ve missed the recumbent RNA or
    the love boat. Slasher after burn the public broadcast bejesus freaks sing
    of pitchforks and torches carried on campus however pointed-
    less because of everything else that’s transpired outside the domestic
    scene today and for last few moons at the same time watching
    we may wonder before the next commercial hits what the gabbing head
    who directed the final outcome of Henderson’s monster, what that
    severed PHD candidate’s head in horn rims jabbers about being
    so clean shaven under such and such studio contracts.

    she asked me what, who did I want, she thought to name names
    but then at this point and especial in the odd hours I keep when
    the neighborhood annoyance sleeps, their tight children open windows
    for the pick of the crop, the usual characters are alternatives charged
    to separate tasks held in check by genteel butcheries the rank and file
    call sane behavior of the newly baptized must be just so
    as within the walkytalky shadows of the fonts and idle saints drag on
    and on a night like your betrayal I wouldn’t recognize the dread girl
    of shade I easily cool to craves a timetable for any cover charge partner
    be assured will dance into the far gone drizzle of tipsyturvy
    mourning for her boredom I allow this other one to fall asleep the TV off
    a tangent I can still manipulate their favorite body parts both wake
    latelatelate for the whole work week I’ll be full steam ahead at last
    steady as I go or stay a woman’s veiled eyes averted now toward
    now away into the muddy craters that rain over fresh mounds of graves
    for her benefit concerted effort does not go unrewarded. Long enough, faith
    and cosmetic surgery test my patience oh by her dark disco soul I could
    smother in kisses but go no further, keep the distance.

    And now and solitaire I remember my place but not unfortunately age
    is it strikes a regressive note in the mad scientist symposium, a real live
    American strapped in the unhallowed sanctuary long gone ago no return
    under volcanic glass streamed still luke warm into my patent laboratory
    by mad coincidence it must have been the BVM vetoed certain catastrophe
    while I busied myself with counting the ripples on the danger signal light
    as I overstepped biology by leaps and bounds what is science to the young
    at heart, there’s no shock value despite the voltage trill and crisp
    the insulation unraveled into my sick dream of bloodshot equations thus
    like mechanical door to door of backwater cults I spawned from dust
    a sexless puppet for good reason a tad larger than the marine corps
    later beyond the initial stages autoerotic acclaim relieved by obligatory
    and regular burlesque, a show of strength the she creature never afforded
    her hypnotist even in their final embrace at the fringes of party beach,
    I didn’t have any pretensions always forgiving the way they talked to me
    as if I was behind on the rent or was their own version of the mad
    father figurine amended and belittled by sorting laundry.

    Page 1

    Without benefit of puppet or doll now I may tell the truth let it fall
    into incidents where she the woman in my life kidnaps an opera star
    along with all the comely postures girls are wont to practice
    lower than the gutter what I innocently sought to be a solemn calliope
    warbling barely audible up through the sewers iron grate, the mask
    and fence for every conceivable secret corridor and gas lit bondage
    fantasy beneath the looming enterprize of the great civic theater,
    red carpet remnant invested with carpet lice, me the Phantom
    Playmate soggy and sodden velveteen aristocratic one eyed jack too nice
    guy cornered deep down under the point of near death in a network
    city opera hosiery the top soprano wears for me alone for me the scoundrels turned my promising life upside down pinched my brat libretto signed
    me on to a curtain call my daft fingers cleft their seasoned boxes where
    the grasped and dead faint wives or mistresses (rarely both) at toll
    of midnight made me drool with delight I strung their bottoms caterwauling
    from the cellar casks full of dirty acrobatics as their hides hooked
    a chandelier I was the Pantomime of the Opera and can not die
    nor is shame my pet comfort as it might as well be yours my ivory keys
    cake with seepage my sofa bound cat naps are legend and damp
    matter the machine of Nature abhors such birth defects in our posthaste
    sojourn here for lack of discipline I’ll yet indulge her dirge to quicken
    the step of every dainty little churl lingering in the pitch dark wing.

    Page 2

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