I wrote a 3000 word entry for a recent Third Flatiron anthology, the theme being 'Sympathy of the Spheres'. Re-read it, binned it. I've just found the start of it as an email to myself (iPad to Laptop) and considering giving it another go, but it still comes over as willfully obscure. So, any comments...
Saturn hits me in the gut as I leave Dickies Bar - bass growl laying down a foundation for Earth’s alto to build on, soaring high, high, pulling me with her. I bite down on the inside of my cheek, scrape my fingernails along the rough brickwork, slam the pain gate shut on euphoria.
For now.
Take a breath, then another. Conscious of other pedestrians so play the ‘tipsy afternoon’ card – exaggerated straighten up, run an unsteady hand through my thinning hair, walk on. Teeth clenched against the smile pulling at my mouth, avoid the florist as blooms always lighten my load and I have to stay grounded, if only held down by feet of clay.
Unworthy, unworthy – that’s my mantra, my tether to reality. Lifeline of sorts, but one fraying a bit more each time the Heavens come calling. I glance at the sky, at unseen Saturn, and swear under my breath, but joy sucks out any real invective. Can’t hold a grudge, see? Goodnatured, that’s what they call me – my last job even put that on a sweatshirt, as a leaving present.
I’m an alto – but you already got that – the Kepler resonator for Earth. Just being awake fills me with joy, shading towards reckless abandon, nirvana. Sounds good? Sounds just peachy? Man, if you only knew what I go through to bring myself down each and every goddam day, and all in your name. Got to keep a lid on it, see? Can’t give in, can’t let myself go, or a sixth of you will just be gone.
Needs all of us, all six, representing the primary planets. It has to be the full choir ethereal, or nothing. Don’t know what the music of the spheres will mean for humanity, but on my own I’m just one of Death’s soloists.
Tried finding the others, of course. Reached out through social media, even personal ads in case we’re talking old-school, but one man can’t canvas the world, even for those wanting to be found. Well, there was this one woman, pure random, in a club, looked at each other and just knew. She was a Mercury, soprano trill in my head like clear air at altitude. Saw it in her eyes, body language; the recognition, the rising harmony, the fear. Turned on her heel and left, me fighting through the throng, saw her step out and under a bus. No hesitation, no backward glance, no duet.
Can’t take that way out – call it dedication, or cowardice, or any damn thing you please, but topping myself wouldn’t head this off at the pass, get me? I’m not the first Earth alto, and won’t be the last, it would just jump to some other poor undeserving sod. Look, I just know, OK? Woke up one day and it was all there in my head, all laid like the echoes of other voices stretching back to God knows when.
The why? Beats me, bud, and I’ve thought long and hard, did the research. Maybe Kepler knew when he put his name to it, but couldn’t be explicit, out of fear. Trust me, telling folks you’re a living death warrant doesn’t make for deep and meaningful relationships.
But, man, my soul so wants to sing.
Hand on my shoulder makes me start, swing round elbow first, empty air. Man along the pavement pulls up short, crosses the road, wide berth and then some. Lining up the shots at Dickies Bar gets real appealing, oh yeah.
Hand on my shoulder.
“Earth”. Statement, no question. Male voice behind me, alto, English as a foreign language but can’t place the accent. Nothing else, though, no connection, no song. I shrug his hand and turn, slow like, fists held low but ready.
Ageing hipster facing me, grey hair and goatee. So downright ordinary, average, it’s a strain to focus on him, like my gaze keeps drifting away. Get my act together, square my shoulders. “And you are?”
Corner-curl smile. “Venus.”
“Yeah, right, man. Can’t hear you.”
He pulls his shirt collar down, exposing a diamond on a chain. I mean, a real rock. That earns him a frown. “So?”.
“So this is the Venus gemstone. It negates the tendency towards euphoria, keeps a lid on things, as the saying goes.” Mid-brown eyes narrow. “You do not know? Seriously?”. Comes out with a short laugh, more a bark. “Idiot.”
Seven years of frustration, denial, self-harm boil up as embarrassment. Feel my face flush. “No gemstone for Earth, tosser, just the elements. I’ll give new-age crystals a body swerve, thank you very much. Rather not rattle when I walk.”
“Ruby. The Sun in splendour. It works for all of us, all the resonators. Not as powerful as a specific, but it does mitigate matters somewhat.”
So, yeah, I like to catch a few rays. Find it a distraction from the music, reason why I’d risk going outdoors even though the app still had Saturn above the horizon. Venus makes a fist around the diamond and his note is there, like a carrier wave, but down-the-hall distant. Still makes him stand out against the street, though, like he’s framed in neon. Opens his hand and I’m alone again. Well, you know what I mean.
Take a breath, lose it slow. “Right, thanks. Look, wrong foot and all that.” Hold out to shake but the recent past coughs, gets my attention, turns that open hand into a pointing finger. “You touched my shoulder, but before it happened. For real, I mean. Damn neat trick, in anyone’s book. Care to share?”
“The containment offered by the gemstones, the separation of souls, all that innate connection has to go somewhere. With practice it can be focused, directed.” His eyes go hazy and I feel a ‘fingertip’ against my cheek, then it’s gone.
Makes me flinch. “Back off! My life is weird enough without any of that crap!”
Holds his hands up, smiles, but he’s the poster boy for condescension. “As you say, we seem to have set off on the wrong foot, but the underlying need for each other remains undeniable.”
“Like hell! Us, people like us, getting together just ups the ante. So, yeah, your gemstone is a plus, thanks for the tip, but put Venus up there…” Jerk a thumb skyward, “…and that’s a whole new ballgame. No way any ‘containment’ could cope with line-of-sight, especially during-“.
“The alignment. Three days hence-”.
“And I’ll be tucked up in my basement flat for the duration, curtains closed. Go find a deep, dark, hole, if you’ve any sense, and pray the others like us do the same.”
Dude picks a speck of lint from his sleeve, lets it drift away on the breeze. “Humanity, so distracted by the incidentals in life that they cannot truly listen. Unlike us. We hear the fundament refrain, the music of the spheres, albeit in snatches.” Give me a blink-and-you-miss-it smile. “We are the flight of angels who will sing them to their rest.”
Saturn hits me in the gut as I leave Dickies Bar - bass growl laying down a foundation for Earth’s alto to build on, soaring high, high, pulling me with her. I bite down on the inside of my cheek, scrape my fingernails along the rough brickwork, slam the pain gate shut on euphoria.
For now.
Take a breath, then another. Conscious of other pedestrians so play the ‘tipsy afternoon’ card – exaggerated straighten up, run an unsteady hand through my thinning hair, walk on. Teeth clenched against the smile pulling at my mouth, avoid the florist as blooms always lighten my load and I have to stay grounded, if only held down by feet of clay.
Unworthy, unworthy – that’s my mantra, my tether to reality. Lifeline of sorts, but one fraying a bit more each time the Heavens come calling. I glance at the sky, at unseen Saturn, and swear under my breath, but joy sucks out any real invective. Can’t hold a grudge, see? Goodnatured, that’s what they call me – my last job even put that on a sweatshirt, as a leaving present.
I’m an alto – but you already got that – the Kepler resonator for Earth. Just being awake fills me with joy, shading towards reckless abandon, nirvana. Sounds good? Sounds just peachy? Man, if you only knew what I go through to bring myself down each and every goddam day, and all in your name. Got to keep a lid on it, see? Can’t give in, can’t let myself go, or a sixth of you will just be gone.
Needs all of us, all six, representing the primary planets. It has to be the full choir ethereal, or nothing. Don’t know what the music of the spheres will mean for humanity, but on my own I’m just one of Death’s soloists.
Tried finding the others, of course. Reached out through social media, even personal ads in case we’re talking old-school, but one man can’t canvas the world, even for those wanting to be found. Well, there was this one woman, pure random, in a club, looked at each other and just knew. She was a Mercury, soprano trill in my head like clear air at altitude. Saw it in her eyes, body language; the recognition, the rising harmony, the fear. Turned on her heel and left, me fighting through the throng, saw her step out and under a bus. No hesitation, no backward glance, no duet.
Can’t take that way out – call it dedication, or cowardice, or any damn thing you please, but topping myself wouldn’t head this off at the pass, get me? I’m not the first Earth alto, and won’t be the last, it would just jump to some other poor undeserving sod. Look, I just know, OK? Woke up one day and it was all there in my head, all laid like the echoes of other voices stretching back to God knows when.
The why? Beats me, bud, and I’ve thought long and hard, did the research. Maybe Kepler knew when he put his name to it, but couldn’t be explicit, out of fear. Trust me, telling folks you’re a living death warrant doesn’t make for deep and meaningful relationships.
But, man, my soul so wants to sing.
Hand on my shoulder makes me start, swing round elbow first, empty air. Man along the pavement pulls up short, crosses the road, wide berth and then some. Lining up the shots at Dickies Bar gets real appealing, oh yeah.
Hand on my shoulder.
“Earth”. Statement, no question. Male voice behind me, alto, English as a foreign language but can’t place the accent. Nothing else, though, no connection, no song. I shrug his hand and turn, slow like, fists held low but ready.
Ageing hipster facing me, grey hair and goatee. So downright ordinary, average, it’s a strain to focus on him, like my gaze keeps drifting away. Get my act together, square my shoulders. “And you are?”
Corner-curl smile. “Venus.”
“Yeah, right, man. Can’t hear you.”
He pulls his shirt collar down, exposing a diamond on a chain. I mean, a real rock. That earns him a frown. “So?”.
“So this is the Venus gemstone. It negates the tendency towards euphoria, keeps a lid on things, as the saying goes.” Mid-brown eyes narrow. “You do not know? Seriously?”. Comes out with a short laugh, more a bark. “Idiot.”
Seven years of frustration, denial, self-harm boil up as embarrassment. Feel my face flush. “No gemstone for Earth, tosser, just the elements. I’ll give new-age crystals a body swerve, thank you very much. Rather not rattle when I walk.”
“Ruby. The Sun in splendour. It works for all of us, all the resonators. Not as powerful as a specific, but it does mitigate matters somewhat.”
So, yeah, I like to catch a few rays. Find it a distraction from the music, reason why I’d risk going outdoors even though the app still had Saturn above the horizon. Venus makes a fist around the diamond and his note is there, like a carrier wave, but down-the-hall distant. Still makes him stand out against the street, though, like he’s framed in neon. Opens his hand and I’m alone again. Well, you know what I mean.
Take a breath, lose it slow. “Right, thanks. Look, wrong foot and all that.” Hold out to shake but the recent past coughs, gets my attention, turns that open hand into a pointing finger. “You touched my shoulder, but before it happened. For real, I mean. Damn neat trick, in anyone’s book. Care to share?”
“The containment offered by the gemstones, the separation of souls, all that innate connection has to go somewhere. With practice it can be focused, directed.” His eyes go hazy and I feel a ‘fingertip’ against my cheek, then it’s gone.
Makes me flinch. “Back off! My life is weird enough without any of that crap!”
Holds his hands up, smiles, but he’s the poster boy for condescension. “As you say, we seem to have set off on the wrong foot, but the underlying need for each other remains undeniable.”
“Like hell! Us, people like us, getting together just ups the ante. So, yeah, your gemstone is a plus, thanks for the tip, but put Venus up there…” Jerk a thumb skyward, “…and that’s a whole new ballgame. No way any ‘containment’ could cope with line-of-sight, especially during-“.
“The alignment. Three days hence-”.
“And I’ll be tucked up in my basement flat for the duration, curtains closed. Go find a deep, dark, hole, if you’ve any sense, and pray the others like us do the same.”
Dude picks a speck of lint from his sleeve, lets it drift away on the breeze. “Humanity, so distracted by the incidentals in life that they cannot truly listen. Unlike us. We hear the fundament refrain, the music of the spheres, albeit in snatches.” Give me a blink-and-you-miss-it smile. “We are the flight of angels who will sing them to their rest.”
