Image Reference Writing
No one could quite remember when they started appearing. The children called them Geels. When we asked the children why that name, they simply said: 'Goat Eels'. The innocence of children was not lost here. They would run onto the streets when the sky darkened to watch the beasts arrive. Their horns carved wounds into the sky as if the heavens were opening, though it wasn’t angels that came through. The children couldn’t see the beings that rode the Geels, or the those that flew through the rifts. Only the women could see them. The beings were naked and feminine in form with feathered wings where arms should be. We didn’t have a fun nickname for them, but some of the others called them harpies – an ugly and monstrous mix of bird and woman that struck fear into your heart. At times they would descend and embrace random women. We would stand watching with hands over our mouths in horror as they took them away. Then, we would continue our day without sparing a thought. The Geels would circle the children, their wide eyes mesmerising them. The children didn’t notice. We noticed. I noticed. I watched with secret envy each time a woman was taken. The beings were not harpies. They were beautiful creatures, with faces that morphed and bodies that were free. The taken knew that. I saw them up there, blissful in their mutating forms. I grew with envy after each abduction. Perhaps that’s why I got left behind.
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A micro narrative I had to write during an exam. We had to write something that drew upon the imagery attached.
