By Robert Devereaux
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Additional resources for A Flight of Storks and Angels
What if her parents yelled at him, threw him out? What if she didn’t like him any more? “Maybe tomorrow,” Ward said, turning to go. A heavy door opened like an axe chop behind him, noise of TV on too loud, people arguing, the DeSario house, Big Mike. An invisible hand scruffed hot at his neck, recalling his fear that day when he’d stood up to Big Mike in the cafeteria. The memory revived as he turned: Ward’s assigned table of six, Joey Russo sitting opposite him for a week of punishment, away from his gang, not all that bad when you got him alone.
I can hardly understand you. No, you don’t need that bottle—” “Keep your hands off, don’t you go grabbing that, or I’ll—” “All right, all right,” he said, backing off. ” He turned and walked away, his stride slower than it had been but no less resolved. ” It stung his son. Carver watched it land between his shoulder blades. Suddenly his coat whirled about, and the boy with the Fay-anger in his eyes loomed up and grabbed him by the shirtfront, one hand raised to strike. Instead, he held his father’s bawling body up for an instant, then let it collapse to the bench.
I wouldn’t want to go on living if I thought it was all just eating and sleeping and taking my clothes off—I mean, putting them on. —Mary Chase, Harvey It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye. —Antoine de Saint-Exupery, The Little Prince I. A Confluence of Faith 1. ” said Ward to his invisible companion over chess. ” Seed-words sounded in his ear: Wise old fellow, an agile mind, a fascinating eavesdrop, a born storyteller. As usual, complete thoughts bloomed out of them.
A Flight of Storks and Angels by Robert Devereaux