Haniel stood in front of the one hundred metre tower that preceded the gothic structure; the old centre of Rumon. The north and south transept arms flanked the six bay nave, studded with characteristically pointed arches. Standing in the vast cobbled plaza, she noted the various coffee shops and restaurants, both chain and independent, maximising the pull of their location. Behind her, a fountain was littered with pennies from wish-makers; an encrusted, verdigris instillation of Neptune with his trident pointing skywards was the fountain’s centrepiece.
Haniel was an unassuming young angel. Auburn of hair, Haniel dressed to look older, but her freckles betrayed her. She was the girl-next-door you never noticed, who shrank into the corners and hid in passing shadows. But in the middle of the plaza, she was exposed; the cathedral made her feel small. It didn’t help that it was midnight. Caught in the moonlight, the carved statutes of saints on the lofty façade stared through her amber eyes. It made her feel insignificant, as if she was being judged for sins she never committed. Her ears detected up a low-pitched ringing. She shivered; her body reacting to the presence of something that was not there. Are they trying to put the fear of God in me?
©OliverKerrigan2018
Oliver Kerrigan 