Welcome to the Wednesday Briefers flash group. The short stories have a maximum of a 1000 word count plus links at the bottom to the other flashers. The prompts for this week are:
"How can you look me in the eye and say...?"
or use silk in an original way
or use: candy, blossom, serenity
or "I knew you were the one when..."
or "Hold on there, I'm no..."
or "When we were young..."
or use a peacock in your tale.
All That He Desires #16
Anslee grunted in his sleep. He did not want to remember.
A single angel was created, the first of any kind, and the angel’s name was called out. From the holy light of Heaven, the angel emerged—glorious, beautiful, and powerful. The angel was named Heylel.
Anslee threw his arm over his face. The name meant glorious and exalted Morningstar, Son of the Dawn. Or, in other words... trouble.
The angel would announce My coming, just as the Morningstar heralds the rising of the sun to light the world. I, and my Morningstar, formed the heavens, earth, and everything in between. Brothers and sisters were created for the Morningstar, and names were called out. Michael, the second angel, arose. Then another name was called, and a third angel, Ariel, came forth. More names were called—Gabriel, Uriel, Raphael, Azrael, Camael, Beelzebub, Samael, Rameel, Ashmodai, Mephistopheles. These first twelve angels, the oldest, would be the highest leaders of angels.
Anslee rolled over to his side, but he couldn’t get away from that damn voice. Oh yes, Anslee remembered now. Pride had gotten the best of the Morningstar. He believed himself to be God's equal. In what was basically a coup, the Morningstar tried to gain God's power and position. If God hadn’t placed Jesus where he did, at his side and above the Morningstar, none of this might have happened.
But then again, the Morningstar was an arrogant little fucker anyhow. The whole thing was sort of a big fuck you—he’s over you and everyone else, so deal. Needless to say, that hadn’t gone over well. Michael turned his back on his brother, the Morningstar, and the war in Heaven began.
A third of the angels sided with the Morningstar, and the war waged. Many angels on both sides died, or as much as an angel can die. Michael was victorious and cast the Morningstar out of Heaven. Every angel who had followed the Morningstar was dragged down with him to a new place that was no longer earth, but some place darker. A place that came to be called Hell.
Except for a chosen few who were not cast down to Hell. They were given the… opportunity to redeem themselves. You are one of those few. The time has come, Anslee, to make a choice. Don’t waste this. It’s your only chance.
* * * *
Anslee opened his eyes, stared up at the darkened ceiling, his mind racing with memories and things he did not want to relive. A quick check showed Jules was still asleep. Restless, and knowing he wouldn’t sleep more this night, Anslee carefully rose from the bed. He walked to the living area, turning on a table lamp as he passed. Flopping down on the couch, he buried his head in his hands.
“Why now? Why show me this now, damn you?” He wanted to shout to whatever had been talking to him in his dream to just hold on, that he wasn’t some… what? Angel? Demon? Fallen Angel? All of the above? “I was perfectly happy not remembering!”
Not that it seemed to matter now.
“Ah shit.” Who was he kidding? He’d not only picked the wrong side in a war, he’d then gone on to have doubts right in the middle of the whole damn thing. Because of who he chose to follow, he’d gotten his ass kicked out of Heaven.
How many could claim such a glowing achievement?
Anslee snorted. He remembered it all now, and it wasn’t pretty. Too late, he, and some others, had questioned the Morningstar... otherwise known as Satan. What was that saying about pride going before a fall?
The archangel Michael had defeated Satan, and they’d been tossed out like yesterday’s garbage. Guess he should be thankful he hadn’t ended up in Hell like so many of his brothers. But what was this opportunity to redeem himself the Lord had given him? And it was the Father who had spoken to him; he knew that—even if the sheer thought did freak him out. When Jules had first brought the Bible out, he’d called it tired old tripe. Had he known somewhere in his foggy memories what bullshit he’d uttered? Maybe. Frankly, he didn’t care. He wasn’t what anyone would call the ideal candidate for holiness.
Um, he liked the pleasures of the flesh way too much. Plus, he didn’t do the whole bowing and scraping thing well, either.
So, back to what exactly this opportunity was. It revolved around Jules; he knew that without a doubt. None of this shit started happening until he saw Jules at the service station that cold night. He couldn’t even blame Jules for this—he’d been the one to present the lotto ticket and the opportunity that went with it. Jules took the lotto ticket, sealing his fate… and Anslee’s, apparently. Now he had to figure out what he and Jules had gotten themselves into.
He’d been told he had a choice to make.
“Okay, fine. I’ll make that choice—just as soon as I figure out what the hell it is.” Anslee glared at the ceiling. “Want to drop a few hints? A little clue, maybe? Something?
“Yeah, of course not. That would’ve been much too easy, right? I might’ve only been a minor angel, but come on. Give me something here. By damn, why can’t you, for once, tell us something straight up without all the fucking riddles? Maybe if you’d been a little clearer some of us wouldn’t have followed the Morningstar. Ever thought of that? How am I supposed to get this right if I don’t even know what the hell the choice is? ”
“Anslee?” Jules looked around. “Who are you talking to? Are you okay? You sound a little... ah, pissesd.”
See? Jules cares. Build on that. And... that straight enough for you, Anslee?