KM Baysal
The Book of Revelation Didn’t Warn Us About This
It’s all fun and games at the rodeo until the angels show up, winging their way to the main arena where the dirt is kicked up by red-nosed clowns in cowboy hats while they ride satyrs in colorful silk pants. It’s unsettling, yet entertaining, to watch the half-men, half-goats of our storybooks and myths prance around the arena trying to buck the clowns off their backs. Everyone says we’ve reached the end of days; what else explains the appearance of so many otherworldly and celestial beings. They might be right, but we still need to find ways to pass the time.
We groan in unison as the sky grows dark, and the flapping of wings swallows all other sound. The show ceases as the satyrs scatter, and we look to the sky in annoyance and trepidation. It’s impossible to tell which kind of angel is overhead until it’s too late. The guardian angels are often a nuisance. They mean well, of course, but they like to step in and protect against even the silliest of mistakes, as if we’re all toddlers about to trip over untied shoes. The avenging angels are the worst. The tiniest grievance can set them off nowadays, not like before when only the most heinous of crimes would bring down their wrath. Now anyone can be smote at any time. It’s unnerving to say the least.
The angels swarm above the arena like a murmuration of starlings, the hum from their wings so loud some of us cover our ears. It’s then that I see their chubby cheeks, their wide eyes, and mischievous grins. “Cherubs!” I yell as I leap from my seat and try to hurry past the legs of the people in my row. The last time these guys showed up they dowsed the crowd with some kind of love potion. Within minutes the stadium was filled with people falling desperately in love and lust with whoever they looked at first. The lucky ones ended up with their original partners, but when the effects finally wore off many of us woke in beds with friends, strangers, enemies. Even the satyrs and clowns were caught up in amorous embraces. It was a nightmare to unravel the aftermath.
Slinking home to my husband after spending a week with one of the most annoying, but admittedly sexy, women in my book club was beyond embarrassing. I had been in line ahead of Jennifer at the concession stand when the attack happened. I turned to see what all the commotion was about and BOOM, I was hit with an all-consuming wave of lust for, and infatuation with, her and her infuriatingly perfect blonde ponytail.
“Two days ago you were complaining about Jennifer’s insistence on reading The Stand over The Parable of the Sower and now you’re telling me you spent an orgiastic week with her after the cherubs drugged everyone?” Steven asked after his relief that I was alive wore off. He never attended the rodeo, said it was an abomination, and this cemented his stance. That wasn’t anything new, he was always against one exciting thing or another throughout our marriage. His latest vetoes, besides the rodeo, were couples massages, swimming in the public pool, and trying edibles. He wouldn’t, or couldn’t, look me in the eyes for a few days after I returned. “It’s harmless fun,” I countered to little effect, not even sure I believed it myself.
Now, as the cherubs zoom menacingly closer, I cover my nose and mouth with my jacket and run for the concourse. The vibration from their buzzing wings pushes against me like a wave, urging me to go home. For just a moment, I follow the footsteps of Lot’s wife and stop to look back, curious to see who will end up together this time, wondering who will get to lose themselves to the foggy bliss of pleasure with no one to blame but the angels. I spot Jennifer lingering in the last row of seats, her perfect ponytail swinging in the wind. She sees me too and offers a shy smile. I lower my jacket from my face and take a deep breath as the cherubim hover in the sky.
KM Baysal lives, works, and writes in NYC. Her work has appeared in Does it Have Pockets, Folklore Review, Inkfish Magazine, Bright Flash Literary Review, and Mulberry Literary (forthcoming). She can often be found haunting the New York Public Library or cozy coffee shops, tapping away on her keyboard. She is currently working on a novella-in-flash. Follow her on Instagram @kmbaysal.
