**Angel Chronicles**

(written in haste)

I must begin by apologizing for the tardiness of this post. I suppose I did promise to update every Monday Wednesday and Friday, and I suppose it is Monday, but I feel bad for not having the post up before noon.

I will continue by offering an excuse, as the actions of the day are the subject of my post.

Now, normally I don’t like to make a big deal out of my birthday. I didn’t really do anything worthy of merit, and entering this particular plane of existence doesn’t exactly elicit joy. Hurray for having a body? I guess. I also don’t like to advertise because there’s always that person who gets me a gift, even though I overlooked their birthday, or offered them sincere well wishes rather than material goods.

But in a few hours, I will turn 22.

I suppose I have a bit more explaining to do than I previously expected. It’s been a while since I’ve written. Please endure the pain of chewing on these splintery sentences.

If you have been reading my blog for a while, you have probably seen a couple posts like this. Well, that feeling has been mounting since that post, though I didn’t think it merited a daily announcement. Shortly put, I have been anxious, on edge, and tense on some sort of ethereal, spiritual way. As a result, I have taken to working out with frequency and intensity unsurpassed in my personal history. I have also taken to reading the bible. It seems strange, but I realized that I’d been disparaging of that particular piece of literature, and all its forms of followers, but I am mostly ignorant of its contents (having been taught what it says, rather than reading it myself).

My father called me earlier, while I was writing the poorly written piece of meta-fiction that would serve as my first regular post. He solved the mystery. He also gave me better subject matter to write on... Which is why I'm writing this, instead of posting previously mentioned heap of shit. I'm afraid the fiction is going to have to wait.

Once, in a slurring stupor, one of my friends turned to me and asked, “Are you a dragon?” Am I a dragon? Like Jake Long? Shut up.

It turns out she wasn’t far off. I don’t have time to tell the entire story—there are many preparations that need to be made. Expect Wednesday’s post to contain more details. Right now, I write frantically, because I promised I would.

My father is an angel. The kind the bible talks about. The kind that crop up in myths and legends spanning history. The kind that Romans and Greeks worshipped as gods and heroes. My brothers and I are his first set of children. He promises more of that story later, but for now, he says, be as far away from inhabited lands as possible by midnight, because the transformation is going to be brutal.

“I raised you into a man,” he told me, “a man strong enough to withstand what you will have to endure. Good luck, my son.”

There are many things to be done. Personal preparations that required most of my day, and will call for the rest of the night--clensing of mind and body (to ease the transition) as well as collecting artifacts and writing words on scraps of paper.

And so I end my post, without writing everything I should have… without editing, without the floral language I so love to employ. I end my post now, because I need to speed as fast as my car will carry me. There is plenty of farmland around here. I hope the middle of one of those fields will do.