Flash Fiction

Do you not believe in angels?

“No, Tino, I am not homophobic. Here I am… in your dungeons… listening to your tall pundits. You laugh. I work here: I am the security guard. I am here to kiss the green and the blue of these dollar bills, not your rainbow flags. Can I not cast a fair judgement? Do you have to look at me as though I have five heads? No, I am not homophobic. It is out of care that I reproach: see that young man over there? His arms are too lean to fight the enemies in his midst. His eyelashes are too pretty to face the dirt in our winds. He is too fragile – too fragile for life.” 

“Too fragile for this life, Eduardo. Do you not believe in angels? You are wearing that silver cross: bless that young man with it; pray away the bigots who might harm him. Let him be fragile: let him give us courage, us others, to navigate the world with these wings made of silk. Not everyone is a hawk like you, our dear security guard! Descend from these heights: come sit with your cousins, who use their colors to attract others knowing the dangers here below!”

“Your metaphor is too pretty: it will not scare away the panthers in the jungle. I can pray all night for your little fairies: in the morning, hunger kicks in and they will have to wear their uniform. Am I unreasonable? Ought we not think of tomorrow, us who exist in the real world? No, no. You cannot convince me. This is la-la-land: and everyone here is out of their mind. Let me go back to the coat check: at least there I shall find their true selves!”

“True selves? You speak the language of the creed you denigrate! You are both wrong: them, for believing truth spreads along shadows; you, for believing there are no lies outside these walls! And how caring… to calculate their futures on their behalf, you who proclaims to count only dollar bills! I said they were angels: I did not deem you their God.”

“You are too harsh: I only said they were exposing themselves. I did not grow up in your Canada. I was not told I could be anything. They showed me instead the portraits of crooks. There were no runways: only people running away. I experienced the full spectrum of human stupidity – will you not accept my advice? No, I am not homophobic. I only want their safety.” 

“Guide us the way, then, amigo. These people here accept your wise security: did they not make you their guardian? Perhaps in our modern world there are no more guardian angels… only some of us guardians, some of us angels.” 


Rayyan Dabbous

Rayyan Dabbous is a PhD student at the University of Toronto. He is the author of Torontino (2022). \\ IG: @rayyandabbous