Hidden angels

I have seen what the angels see. The patchwork grid of city streets spreads out before me, containing an infinite number of individuals. Each soul gleams a bright yellow, leaving the city as dazzling and blinding as a gem in the sun.

Fog slinks across the horizon, enveloping the edges of the city in a blanket of sulphuric gas. The souls begin to wink out one by one. Beyond the city is a solid wall of pale pink-colored vapor reflected off the sunless sky above.

Some would say that this is the end of the world. I believe this is the beginning. Who is to say what will happen once our souls are extinguished? Will our pulse-less bodies continue their daily routine as the skin falls away from the bones? Will our consciousness ascend to the next plane as beams of light zipping across the universe? If there are no people, will the Earth continue to spin, or will it crumble to nothing?

As the fog creeps steadily closer, I climb back down the telephone pole, placing one foot at a time on the metal rungs stuck out of the wood.

People stream along the sidewalks, cars flow down the streets, but everything is silent. No one speaks, the birds don't sing. They feel the change in the air. Death approaches. I can taste it on the wind.

I plant both feet on the ground and lean my head back to look up at the sky. My eyes search for the angels, but they hide from my view. I know they are up there somewhere.