Angelic Chronicles

“You call us Angels, but you laugh loudly at our backs when we speak to you of the flight.

Kirill was pursued by some ill fate. Or maybe a healthy and kind one.

“Ave! Did you check yesterday thought-mail?

It was surprisingly quiet today in the Hall of Destinies.

In this most significant for him day Artem Sergeyevich was, as they say, out of sorts.

By a road, made of black stone blocks, along with the anthem, coming from a loudhailer of the accompanying armored personnel carrier, accurately measuring out the pace,

The figure in a black as night attire, which has stopped reflecting shadow and absorbing light an uncountable by earth standards number of years ago, punched a chessboa

“Stretch! Now push on! Push on! More! Come on, darling, I know that it hurts! Such is our female fate, we all passed through it. Here… I can see his head!

This particular day of Anton Pavlovich’s life went awry from the start.

“…And there they meet with happiness at last…” the Story-Teller has finished the narration, closing the book and beholding faces of listeners in the light of evening st