Looking for AngelsMature

Authors Note:

About a year ago an old friend and I sat and listened to a song of the same title as this piece by Skillet, it was the first time either of us had listened to it properly and, inspired beyond reckoning, within 10 minutes both of us had begun our own tale, woven around it's lyrics.

I'm not sure where it's going, I know the nature of this place is to have others write into it, however this is one I'd like to develop myself and maybe have people enter into later and if that happens I'd like those people to listen to the song, it's intrinsic to this.





There’s a world. A world which the majority know about but which few know…and which fewer should know. A world which kids should have no idea about, which they should be protected against and innocent from as I was as a tyke, but a world far too many kids know far too damn well and endure with their adult counterparts. Those adults who brought them into the cruel world that they suffer in daily, those adults who had a say in being in the world they exist in, maybe not a choice, but a say none-the-less.

I’m one of those adults, I know the stories, I know the reasons that some of them are here. The kids have no such stories or reasons. Poor buggers.

You tend to witness things out here, sitting in my little corner of the world…alright, this big hobnob insurance company’s corner of the world with its sweeping stairs and little nooks that keep a man out of the weather, out of the rain. You witness how petty the world is, how much it’s headed to hell in a hand basket.

Take that woman for example, the one with the phone pinned to her ear and not a long brown hair out of place. You just listen to the conversation as she rushes past.

‘Why the hell not?…I don’t care who else you have booked in, I need an appointment now…no…no I’m not available then either…no now…a cut and colour that’s right…20 minutes? Thank you.’

Her face is almost the colour of a tomato she’s getting so heated up. And over what? A fucking haircut. She’s probably never had an issue bigger than that in her life, she needs to experience our world where the colour of your hair is the last thing you care about, but she will never. Nor will that kid, lucky bugger, or that gent in a suit over there. He probably gives his buck a day to help poor kids in Africa like the rest of them, ignoring the world that exists within his where kids are homeless and starving just like them ones in Africa. He wouldn’t have a clue.

The End

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