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:
"... has arisen..."
or use: lamb, soul, redemption
or use ham in an interesting way
or "You have no faith to lose and you know it..."
or use: chocolate or use a church in some way
or "Family values? Your family wouldn't know family values if..."
I’m using a picture prompt:
All That He Desires #13
Both of Anslee’s eyebrows rose as Jules placed the book on his lap. The chapter heading was clearly marked The Book of Revelations. “You want to show me something from the Bible? Why, Jules?”
Jules chewed his bottom lip. “I… I think you’re a Fallen Angel.”
* * * *
“You can’t be serious.” Anslee pushed the Bible off his lap and stood. He needed room to pace, by damn. Of all the things Jules could’ve come up with, he hadn’t seen this coming, not at all. He snorted silently. A Fallen Angel, indeed. This was almost as good as when Jules wondered if he was his Guardian Angel, at the very beginning.
“It makes the most sense. Just… just hold on a second.” Jules placed the Bible on the coffee table, then reached for his laptop. After a quick search, he turned the computer around so Anslee could see what he’d found.
Anslee brushed his long hair back behind his shoulder, his eyebrows rising nearly to his hairline as the shocks kept coming. Fuck, was this him—a dark Lord stumbling along two paces behind a human? He certainly wasn’t expecting Jules to show him that.
“Okay, why are you showing me pictures of what mankind assumes angels look like?”
Jules looked at Anslee. “Why do you say we assume angels look like this? Are we wrong? And if so… how do you know?”
Anslee’s mouth snapped shut. How indeed? He just knew the pictures were close, but not dead on. Moving back to the couch, he sat and stared at the screen. Most drawings had the wings wrong. The base needed to be lower, farther down the back. A hazy sheen covered his vision as everything around him faded… everything but that picture. Torn by something he didn’t understand, he raised his hand, his finger slowly tracing the wings of the creature on the screen.
Longing, an emotion buried so deeply he didn’t recognize it at first, shot through him, followed by the memory of a ripping pain. Anslee jerked his finger back as screams surrounded him. Oh merciful Father, what had he done? He couldn’t kill, killing was wrong. It was clearly written. He shouldn’t have listened to the one that… that what? Led him wrong?
The clang of swords rang around him, but that wasn’t what bothered him. It was the shouts, the words he could hear but couldn’t quite make out. Then a bright, searing light, so pure it hurt to look upon, blasted across the skies… followed by a feeling of falling, crashing down.
Then… the abrupt, painful absence of falling as he was jerked to a stop. Finally… nothing for a while.
“Anslee! Anslee? Dammit, answer me!”
Anslee’s vision cleared and he found a very pale Jules staring at him. Anslee looked down to where Jules clutched at his arms. What the fuck had just happened?
“You looked at the picture of that angel and kinda spaced on me.”
“I spoke out loud?”
“Yeah, you did. And that’s not all. You talked about swords, words you couldn’t hear, how killing is wrong, a pure light and falling down… Come on, dude. Don’t you see? It fits.” Jules let go of Anslee and started tugging at his shirt. “Take this off.”
“You want me to take off my shirt? Really?” Anslee pulled the garment over his head. “Anything else while we’re at it?”
“Would you stop?” Jules manhandled Anslee until he could see his back.
Anslee let his human place him as he wished, slightly amused at Jules. “What do you think to find, Jules? Scars from where my wings were ripped out?”
“You said that, not me. But it’s funny how we’re thinking the same thing.” Jules ran his fingers down Anslee’s perfect back, watching as the muscles bunched and twitched.
Anslee shivered as phantom—what? Pleasure? Something damn sure raced through him when Jules touched him right under his shoulder blades. That was nothing more than him reacting to Jules’ touch on his body. Right?
Anslee looked over his shoulder at Jules, a slight smirk on his face in an attempt to hide his real thoughts. “See anything?”
“Well… no.” Jules shrugged. “Can you be killed?”
Anslee turned to face Jules. “No.”
“No? That’s it? How do you know? Has someone tried to kill you before? What happened?”
Anslee sighed. “Take my word for it, I can’t be killed. And if you think I’m going to let you slit my throat to find out, you’re wrong—no matter how much you may wish it. I may not be able to die, but I can feel pain. And to how I know I can’t die… well, I just do. I mean, I’ve been here since the start, Jules. Obviously I can’t die.”
Annoyance surged through Anslee. “Look, Jules, I’m no angel. They are good and pure and—”
“I didn’t say you were an angel. What I said was you had to be one of the Fallen Angels. Big difference.”
Anslee stood again, his eyes on that damn picture. The need to pace was a living thing in him. “But, according to your Bible, they were cast down to Hell. They were not cast to Earth. Earth didn’t exist yet.”
“But what if it did? And the Bible was written by Man, Anslee. Mistakes can happen. Things can be left out for whatever reason. Maybe man isn’t supposed to know about—” Jules waved his hand at Anslee “—about this. The Bible also says not everything that’s taught in it will be clear.”
“And just what do you think this is?”
“I think you and your kind were given a second chance—and opportunity, if you will, to redeem yourselves. Isn’t that what you call your kind? The Lords of Opportunity? Fitting, wouldn’t you say?”