The Archangel Finds His Champion
Archangel Michael stared down from the golden glowing clouds of Heaven, searching the earth for The One. Lucifer had already found his moral warrior, the black king stealing the first move in their little game of sacrificial lambs and slaughter. Now it was Michael’s turn to select a pawn, to decide which little piece of the board he wanted to invade. There was a man, big and quick on his feet, an ideal fighter – yet not such a smart one. His left guard was constantly down, despite how often his opponent took advantage of the weakness and using the same combination of kicks and grabs made him depressingly predictable.
Michael could certainly fix that, if the contemptuous little man would allow him to. Michael …show more content…
Michael really didn’t care to stay on earth any longer than he had to, but was he really so desperate that he would claim the first decent being he laid eyes on – even if it were a child? Michael flapped his wings once, the moon’s light making the snowy feathers shimmer like light against the ocean. He reached a hand back and stroked one of the wings absently, wondering if he really was so vain that he would ruin a child’s adolescence. A crash sounded from inside and, as the crying grew louder, Michael decided that yes he really was that …show more content…
The children at the door turned and ran when the gang returned to the building, not one making a sound or move to check on the black and blue form lying just outside. Something inside Michael twisted and began to coil. The door shut, and a vulture cast its shadow on the broken girl as it flew overhead. Minutes passed; the lights inside Farside turned off. The coil tightened.
Seconds more and Michael finally approached the gasping child, breath leaving him as he gazed down at the girl’s face. Not a single inch of skin had been spared, flesh spotting black, blue, and yellow. Both eyes were swollen shut, the girl’s lip torn and stained with still flowing blood. Her arm had been twisted up and back, bone threatening to scratch through the girl’s skin. Her chest bent inwards, breath rasping as a rib threatened to puncture a lung.
The coil turned tighter and tighter, and Michael’s hands shook as his nails pressed into the palm of his hand hard enough to draw blood. She had been brave, Michael thought. She saw the danger and she still approached, still fought. Where the other children feared punishment this girl pressed on, risked the older children’s retribution for the sake of another who didn’t even bother to show her savior the same selfless
Archangel Michael stared down from the golden glowing clouds of Heaven, searching the earth for The One. Lucifer had already found his moral warrior, the black king stealing the first move in their little game of sacrificial lambs and slaughter. Now it was Michael’s turn to select a pawn, to decide which little piece of the board he wanted to invade. There was a man, big and quick on his feet, an ideal fighter – yet not such a smart one. His left guard was constantly down, despite how often his opponent took advantage of the weakness and using the same combination of kicks and grabs made him depressingly predictable.
Michael could certainly fix that, if the contemptuous little man would allow him to. Michael …show more content…
Michael really didn’t care to stay on earth any longer than he had to, but was he really so desperate that he would claim the first decent being he laid eyes on – even if it were a child? Michael flapped his wings once, the moon’s light making the snowy feathers shimmer like light against the ocean. He reached a hand back and stroked one of the wings absently, wondering if he really was so vain that he would ruin a child’s adolescence. A crash sounded from inside and, as the crying grew louder, Michael decided that yes he really was that …show more content…
The children at the door turned and ran when the gang returned to the building, not one making a sound or move to check on the black and blue form lying just outside. Something inside Michael twisted and began to coil. The door shut, and a vulture cast its shadow on the broken girl as it flew overhead. Minutes passed; the lights inside Farside turned off. The coil tightened.
Seconds more and Michael finally approached the gasping child, breath leaving him as he gazed down at the girl’s face. Not a single inch of skin had been spared, flesh spotting black, blue, and yellow. Both eyes were swollen shut, the girl’s lip torn and stained with still flowing blood. Her arm had been twisted up and back, bone threatening to scratch through the girl’s skin. Her chest bent inwards, breath rasping as a rib threatened to puncture a lung.
The coil turned tighter and tighter, and Michael’s hands shook as his nails pressed into the palm of his hand hard enough to draw blood. She had been brave, Michael thought. She saw the danger and she still approached, still fought. Where the other children feared punishment this girl pressed on, risked the older children’s retribution for the sake of another who didn’t even bother to show her savior the same selfless