The Spirits of Knowledge
The angels leave South Scotia. The religious turbulence there simply became too much for them. They leave their prized lions behind. By day, the lions sleep. With early evening, the lions hunt. It can be inconvenient for a citizen to be out and about early evenings. A collection is taken up to hire a chess master to train the lions in chess. Theory is: chess will give outlet to the lions’ unleashed predatory instincts. What purposes the angels had for the lions is unknown, but it is hoped that chess, with its binary nature and twists of logic, will fill as well the need of purpose in the lions. The hired chess master leases the high school gymnasium and invites all the lions in for an early evening explanation of elemental chess. The master is less than two sentences into his introductory fundamentals lecture when the lions leap en masse and the man is totally consumed. The horror is universal. But South Scotia early evenings for the entire following week is safe. Certainly, a stray dog or cat is taken, but no neighbors go missing. A collection is taken up to hire another chess master. From the next town, settled in sacred ennui, the angels watch meticulously, looking for signs of learning, for intentions, for calm. They remember the time when they mastered lions.
Ken Poyner’s four collections of flash and four of speculative poetry can be found at all the usual places. He is married to a world class female power lifter and lives with several rescue cats and betta fish in a dreary townhome development. He is a retired information systems warrior.
