Read Online Thy Fearful Symmetry by Richard Wright - Free Book Online Page A

lowered his face into his hands. Two days ago, he would have known the answer. Though he did not worship, he lived a good and generous life. Now those same hands that cradled his sobbing face were guilty of beating an innocent boy half to death.
    “Hush, Clive.” The words were immediately soothing, and he lifted his head again, scarcely aware of the tears freezing on his cheeks. “You have sinned, it is true, but my Master knows that it was a sin wrought of confusion and guilt. You are not an evil man. Thus, you are offered an opportunity.”  
    Clive's face split in a pitifully grateful grin. “Yes, anything. I'll do anything.”
    “Be sure, mortal. There is always a moment of choice. This is yours. Do you commit to me?”
    Clive nodded, wanting to cry at the angel's doubts in him.
    “Then find him. Find Ambrose. Your friend is in grave danger. He has offended the battalions of Hell, and they nip at his heels. Should they catch him, he will be lost.”  
    Clive's fear exploded afresh. Clutching himself, he felt urine dribble down his left leg, a streak of heat in the bitter chill.
    “You have to find him for me, Clive. I have looked, but he has hidden himself away. You must find him, and then you must summon me.”
    Nodding, Clive forced his lips into action. “How?”
    The angel held out a hand. Resting on its palm was a crisp US dollar bill. Tentative, Clive reached out, ignoring the icy aura that drove needles through his fingers, fascinated by the play of blue light on his own imperfect flesh, and took the offering.
    “This binds you to me, Clive. Rejoice at that.” Clive felt exultation shaft him, gathering at his suddenly straining penis. “On the design of that note is an eye, resting atop a pyramid. Press that symbol to your forehead, between your eyes and a little above, and think of me. I will come to you, and the hordes of Hell shall be baying at my back. There is not much time.”
    Again, Clive felt the fear, and a suffocating hopelessness. Casting his arms wide in despair, he indicated the cell around him, its four walls more claustrophobic than ever. “I'll do it, I'll do anything,” he was desperate for his sincerity to strike home. “But how am I supposed to search while I'm locked away...”
    The light coming from the angel soared in intensity, flashbulb bright, and Clive fell back, covering his eyes, waiting for the hard slap of the concrete floor.
    When instead he felt the soft tickle of grass at his neck, he began to laugh. Somewhere, deep down where his critical self still lived, he knew it wasn't a healthy laugh. Pulling his hands from his eyes, he sat up, still giggling, and looked around.  
    Evening was falling on Kelvingrove Park, in the West End of the city. To his left, past where the park dipped down to the river Kelvin and back up to the road, Glasgow University's one hundred and twenty year old clock tower speared a finger at the setting sun. In summer, students crowded the grassy bank on which he lay, soaking in the sun while they grappled with philosophies, arts, and sciences. In another University, in another part of the world, he had once done the same. Another world. Another Clive Huntley. Things were different now.
    There was nobody in sight, and the cold evening air told him why. Still giggling, absently wiping dribble from his chin, Clive climbed to his feet, the smell of his own sweat and urine hardly bothering him. Kelvingrove Park was big, but he was near to Hillhead Street, where he had once been neighbours with an angel. A very long time ago, so it felt. Staggering, unaware of the vacancy in his smile, he limped down the slope to the path, slipping the fresh dollar bill into his pocket as he went.
    Not much time. Not much time to save an angel from Hell's screaming damned. Not much time to earn redemption for his crimes. Pulling in a lungful of fresh air, he knew he had been set a big challenge, but was sure he was up to the task.
    Clive Huntley had a special