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One Line Poem
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 Category:  Spiritual Fiction
  Posted: February 4, 2020      Views: 102

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This work has reached the exceptional level
Angels among us.
"The Angel of Ireland" by Sally Law

Dr. Sedrick McGrath, now there's a pecuilar one. Was he human or not? This subject was committed to lore. He always wore the same overcoat and never seemed to eat the food he ordered in picky fashion.

It was rumored by those who saw him, or had been touched by him, that Dr. McGrath was an angel. Some swore to it on Sean-mathair's grave.

As usual, his need for supper happened to bring him near a desperate soul who had just sat down at MacKibbin's Tavern. The angel of Ireland saw into his pockets, but even worse, his empty soul. "Money is always easier to remedy than a human bereft of hope," thought the angel clad in human clothing.

The good doctor entered as he always did, calling to the bartender for a dark pint and menu. He strategically sat next to the young man.

"What do you recommend here? Soups and stews vary from town to town, I think. The key is in the oxtail. It makes the best broth," commented Dr. McGrath.

"Ah, I'm just having me pint before I head home. Long day." The man licked his lips at the thought of some oxtail soup served with soda bread.

"My treat," said the doctor before the man could protest. In a blink, the Irish soda bread was sitting in front of him, and his drink topped off. "I'll be back in just a few," said the server.

"This is very kind, Sir. Missed my midday meal at the factory today."

The doctor bore into his soul. "The fact is, my friend, the factory closed months ago. You've been separated from your wife and family, and you haven't a dime in your pocket. Is that about the truth of it?"

"How do you know all this?"

"Does it matter?"

"Not really. I'm a pathetic loser!"

The doctor lowered his voice, "The one who sent me doesn't think so."

The soup arrived, and the man ate until he could hold no more.

"Before we get on, what's your name?"

"Rory O' Fallon. I've lived here all my life."

"Well, that's great news," said the doctor.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm on the road all the time, you see. I own a nice house up the hill--the pretty blue one. Anyway, I need someone to live there and care for it while I'm away. It would be perfect for your two boys. What do you say?"

Oh, yes! Wait ... how did you know I had two sons?"

"You mentioned them earlier. I need to get going, Rory. Here are the house keys. See you in the morning?"

Rory O' Fallon never saw the doctor again, but the deed to the house had been signed over to him, dated the day he had met the angelic visitor in the tavern.

Flash Fiction Writing Contest contest entry


Author Notes
Art: "Serve Love" by booklotto of FanArtReview.

"Sean-mathair's grave" is one of the many spellings in Gaelic/Irish for "old mother's grave." For this story, I chose this one.
Pays one point and 2 member cents. Artwork by booklotto at

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