Echoes of the Fall is about the terror of waking up inside a human body — born into Florida sun, shattered by divorce, and dragged north to an old house full of the dead, where an angel trapped in infant flesh discovers he can still see what no child should ever see.
By Thomas J. Allen, © 2026
I am awake.
But I cannot move. I cannot stretch my wings.
I am trapped in the dark water... bound by a flesh-prison.
Sometimes, the walls shake.
A vibration... a sound they call laughter.
The woman wrapped around me is happy.
But I am terrified. This is all wrong.
I do not belong in the womb.
I do not belong in the dark!
Pushed from the water! Thrown to the light!
The Florida sun... burning my sight!
A crying infant... an ancient soul!
Crushed into a body... I cannot control!
The skies break open! The southern storms roar!
The lightning reminds me of the heavenly war!
As I sleep in the crib, the thunder rolls through...
And I swear in the rumble, He whispers:
(I love you...)
The Father's voice... in the crack of the sky!
An echo of the fall... making the mortal cry!
But mortal life is fragile. It shatters so easily.
Four years in the sun, and the foundation breaks.
Divorce... The severing of the human bond.
A packed car. A long road north to New Jersey.
But first... a detour. A temporary shelter.
My aunt's house. Built in the eighteen-hundreds.
Built on secrets.
The floorboards creak... the shadows grow long!
My angelic sight... is interpreting wrong!
I look in the corners! I stare at the stairs!
I see the dead standing... answering prayers!
The house is alive! The house is awake!
My spiritual eyes... beginning to ache!
I hear them whispering... the ghosts of the past!
The vessel of clay... is cracking so fast!
The angel is trapped with the spirits of earth!
The terrifying curse... of the human birth!
They walk in the hallway.
They stand by the bed.
I am no longer an angel.
But I see the phantoms of the dead.