Lenny let another rock fly from his slingshot toward the ancient weeping willow just on the other side of the fence. A flurry of little songbirds took to the sky.

Lenny used to be fun, but now all he wanted to do was shoot things. Through the kitchen window, Maribel could see her mother with the coffee pot and Lenny’s mom holding up her cup. She wished they would hurry up.

“Aren’t you scared you’ll hit an angel?” Maribel asked. “I saw a picture in the paper of an angel that got shot by a hunter.”

Lenny lowered his shooting arm and turned to face her. “My dad said that picture was fake. And anyway, I’ve never seen an angel around here.” He scanned the yard looking for his next rock.

Maribel had never seen an angel either, but she wasn’t going to admit that to Lenny. “Why do you want to shoot things anyway?” 

Lenny reached for a chunk of brick that had broken off the edge of the patio. He loaded it into the band of his slingshot. “It shows my skill. I can’t go out hunting with my dad until I prove I’m ready.” He pulled back on the sling as hard as he could, and when it reached its limit, he let it soar.

Birds took flight, and then Maribel heard branches snapping. It sounded like something heavy was crashing through the limbs of the tree.

 “I think you broke the tree. You’re gonna get it now!” Maribel said, eyes fixed on the swirl of birds circling above the willow. She’d never seen so many birds.

Lenny stuffed some rocks in his pockets and took off down the side lawn. “Come on,” he yelled back.

At the edge of the dividing fence, Maribel and Lenny both stopped. A low keening came from the other side. A deep sound that vibrated the ground.

“Maybe we should get our moms,” Maribel whispered, glancing up at the birds still swirling like a funnel above them.

Lenny stuck his hand over the fence and groped for the latch. “I’m gonna see what happened. No need to get them all riled for nothing.”

The air grew thick and still like before a storm. The deep wailing filled the sky. Lenny slowly pushed the gate open. He took a rock from his pocket. The air throbbed, and Maribel pressed her hands against her ears. Lenny looked up at the cloud of birds then at the willow. The weeping branches shuddered. He loaded his weapon, closed one eye, and aimed for the center of the tree. The wailing grew louder and higher becoming a dreadful screech.

“Stop!” Maribel yelled. 

Lenny pulled back the band and sent his missile flying.

The sky screamed. Then everything went still. Except for the little birds that rained down. Hundreds of broken angels. 

– Kait Leonard