Gold Marvels, Gold Marbles

It wasn’t that I was afraid

From what I could tell it wasn’t… the stories that father told to me- I held like scripture. It was an affixed legend, something I never thought to have tread upon in all my days. He’d always told me— stay away from the angel with the yellow eyes. He told me this with the intention of keeping me away— for whatever reason he told me intently with- nothing else. I’d tried prying it out of him before- hell, even sneaking into his chambers and looking for some journal of sorts and- I’d gotten my read end handed to me when he found out.I stand here, my hands folded and standing before my altar. My job has always been one of grace and service to the community, I’d indulge in my studies- yes— but I upheld my church as if it were to the humans. 

He’s standing before me and I know what my father meant now. I’d spied upon angels— dozens with gold, daffodil, pale daisied orbs— but this kind of hue. It was intense— it spilled from his eyes, it speckled his face like the starry sky. He looked stern, his stance firm. There were no whites in his eyes, just yellow.I folded my hands in prayer, I wasn’t scared. No not at all— the twitch in my lip and my stiff legs told me otherwise its just— those eyes. There were unforgettable.

Petrifying.