How to Listen When the Angels Sing

The angels do not speak. They do not whisper, or shout, or even cry.

They sing.

The greatest minds in modern angelology do not yet agree whether they prefer to sing, or if that is their only way to communicate. Valerian believed it to be the latter, though with no evidence either way the question was moot.

They, even now, didn't even have evidence that the angels were even real. No evidence except what Val had seen, and all his detailed sketches of every angel he had encountered. That was how this project had started, he'd wanted to prove that the beautiful creatures he saw were more than hallucinations. But still, no evidence.

Nothing but the sketches, and the songs.

Even though the others couldn't see the angels, they could hear them sing. Well, maybe hear wasn't the right word. More like feel. Without the feeling, after all, the song itself was easy to overlook. It always sounded like part of the background noise, just slightly out of place enough that most would overlook it, but some might notice. A bit of static on the radio, a creak of wood, a splash of water.

And for the lucky few who did notice it, who tried to find the source of the sound, or listen for it again, they were the most likely to feel the song. Sometimes it felt inviting, the angel inviting others to share in its worship, or meditation, or whatever else it might be doing. Other times it felt foreboding, like the angel was warning would-be trespassers. But most of the time, it was simply awe-inspiring, causing various emotions as the human mind tried to comprehend it.

But, as much as hearing the song for the first time convinced Sol and Winter, they all knew their accounts of it would only serve to further entrench the idea that Val was crazy. Not just crazy, crazy in the way that sucked others in and made them crazy too. Like a cult leader. Val had shared this fear many times, even after the others tried to console him.

"Don't worry, you're not like that," Winter had said in their smooth voice with careful, practiced intonation, fixing the straps of their corset again, "If this was all fake and you were luring us in with your charisma alone or some shit, you'd probably have more people convinced."

But that was the goal, wasn't it? To convince more people. To get evidence of the angels on camera, or to see if their song could be heard as more than ust some unexplained noises. That's why they'd filled Winter's old black van with what they affectionately referred to as "ghost hunter crap." Cameras, EMF detectors, audio recorders, and many more items only Sol seemed to have any idea how to use. And they searched for angels.

They'd found many, according to Val. But no matter how clearly he could see them, no camera technique they'd tried produced any proof that there was anything at all. Sol was on the edge of tearing her dark, coily hair out over this. That never stopped them, however.

Winter drove toward an old house at the edge of town, angels tended to love abandoned houses, especially ones with a history of sorrow and misfortune like this one. They had the radio on, listening for stray static, for angel song.

Sure enough, a small noise, like if the sound of sitting in a beanbag chair was autotuned, came from the radio as a new song started. Winter listened as closely as they could as they focused on the winding road ahead. It wasn't long before the sound came again.

This time, Winter felt it, like a punch in the gut. They wiped away the tears that sprang to their eyes and smeared their makeup, trying to focus on the road. They felt a grief that was not their own like a lead weight in their stomach.

"Fuck--maybe we should leave this one alone," they said to the other two, struggling to keep their voice in their usual register.

"Was it angry?" Sol asked, popping a candy pink earbud out. She hated crying in front of others, and cried so easily when the angels sang, so she generally tried to tune out the radio as they traveled.

"It was...mourning."

"Did it say why?" Val asked, moving blue hair out of his eyes as he leaned forward a bit, listening closer to the radio. It was a curious question, Val knew full well the angels didn't "say" anything.

"No," Winter simply replied. The van fell into silence outside of the sound of the engine and the noise of the radio.

A few moments later, Winter swore loudly and slammed on the brakes. The other two were surprised, asking nearly at the same time why they had done that.

"Deer in the road," Winter simply replied.

The deer finished its crossing rather quickly, seeming to bow its head to Winter as it passed. And when its destination was illuminated by the headlights, they could all see how it curled up next to a mangled form on the side of the road. A dead deer, that looked like it had been hit by a car relatively recently.

Only Val could see that the creature, with too many eyes and wreathed in a soft light was not a deer, and likely never had been.

And the static, that mournful song, came again.