'Ashtray of Lust' by Ross McCleary



When the Aliens landed and enslaved the human race, myself included, it really put the brakes on the affair I was having with the luscious Mr Palmer.



They were rubbery with spaghetti limbs and skin-tight skulls. They demanded tribute without respite. I prayed to God, not them, for the first time. I prayed for something, anything, which would save us from their hard-nosed captivity.



Soon an answer came.



Magnificent beings, Angels, in clean white robes and knee-length boots, floated through the clouds. They channelled lightning and skewered the Aliens’ hearts with their tridents. The festering rot of lungs, kidneys and spleens permeated our skin; the streets ran red.



The King of the Angels, twelve feet tall, spoke to us of devotion and piety, of justice and chastity. I wondered how he knew English.



It was then that Unicorns arrived: incomprehensible and vicious. Upon their horns the Angels were impaled and they screamed as they crumbled to dust.



When the Beings of Pure Fire descended, I caved in and told my husband about the affair.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

‘Honey’ by Patricia Quintana Bidar

'How to Sacrifice Your Life in the line of Duty and Still Go Uncommemorated on War Memorials' by Jan Kaneen

DEBUT FLASH: 'Come home' by Anne Chapman