Envoy

Acidic watercolor droplets flowed down the window panes whose edges were smeared in mud and pieces of dead moths. All I could see outside was heaps of pebbles and mud drenched in rain, a quagmire swallowing up my front porch. It had been like this for weeks by constant molding of terrain with big-wheeled trucks and bulldozers. A knock on the dark mahogany door made me jolt, and I scurried over and opened. The yeoman had arrived in leather armor, brandishing his onyx horn and his bronze crook. "Ey, waver there?" He had an eye patch but incited with a glint in his other eye, smiling. Some of his teeth were yellowed and missing, and I noticed a triangular piece of cartilage torn out of his left ear. "Egged and toasted. Longpig on the barbie. You've known ruby ridges. The tee tubers. It's 'bout time. 'Bout time. Educated girls. Wait look at this. Look." He slapped me in the face hard. Then I saw the shine of his steel toe boot swiftly smashing into the bridge of my nose. My last memory before being knocked out, after the shine of the buckles on his leather greaves, was him flaunting a tattoo of a triskele above my teetering body. The tattoo was on the underside of his muscular arm which he was flexing and I think my body fell face-first into a cinder block. Next thing I knew I was alone, splayed out in the cargo bay atop a truck which was lined with drab concrete. Something in the air kept whispering wordlings into my ears. Someone was here to champion me. My duty was to stand proud and listen to the yeoman while in awe of his signals and heraldry because it was ordained by the Brotherhood. I was hungry and sleepy and I knew it beyond any doubt. I sat there for hours. Then a lightning bolt hit the truck and the concrete all lit up, burning the coiled cords of the cage with sparks running down sparking lattices of fiberglass, making me cry out as if I was floating betwixt everything while the cherubim had sent their rapturing envoys. The truck had rolled over and was lying in the middle of a field, lonely cars zooming in the distance. The driver had broken out and was running as far from the scene as possible. I punched the concrete and the fiberglass to make my way out. My fist was morbid black and red, the sky was jagged ultraviolent pink and purple, and my goal was to avenge the Brotherhood as I trudged through the scattered hyssop and peonies in the meadow.