Tuesday, May 21, 2013

Falling Angels

image courtesy of Digital Blasphemy

Has Heaven cast out the angels for failure to follow orders?  Is this the coming of the apocalypse?  Maybe it's an astronomical light show or the beginning of the end of your world.  Write a little Flashy Fiction on how a witness might interpret and react to this scene.



    The Warrior knew.

    Armageddon was at hand. Hell be damned.

    He had seen the mark of Man left behind when He had descended, for this battle needed its Supreme Commander. Hell would be damned for sure. But not without a fight.

    The agents of evil had infiltrated the gates, posing and passing as obedient servants of He who is to come again. The temptation is strong for those who are not prepared. Thankfully, Michael's sword cut swiftly to separate the rebels from the Defenders.

    The Warrior had been a Defender. He still was actually, But his "assignment" had been changed. He was to wait for the Coming and the Downfall. The mark of Man had affirmed the Arrival of Him. Now, the Warrior awaited the descent.

    He remained vigilant; a sentinel charged to protect all that was Holy. His eyes were trained on the horizon. Tranquility took residence briefly, but he knew it was a matter of...

    A thunderous rumble reverberated in the distant sky. A cacophony of screams and explosions; cackles and war cries. The sky became inflamed with the brightness of a million stars released from hope, each star a fallen soul discharged from the multitudes to avenger their infiltration. Plummeting to earth, scorching all that surrounded their impact to stand erect and strong; a combatant in the name of Darkness. The Warrior unsheathed his weapon; it's glistening a signal to all.

    The battle had begun.

    The Warrior knew better this time.

    Heaven and Hell be damned.


    This is a continuance of one of my earliest FLASHY FICTION pieces. From "A SHOW OF SIGNS" (http://wallegories.wordpress.com/2011/08/31/a-show-of-signs/) 19 Jan 2010

  2. Very cool, Walt. I wonder when the next prompt will arrive that will provide the next part of this story.

    by P. Wanken

    The drive home was taking longer than expected. Exhaustion from a whirlwind of activity following Dad’s death doubled each minute, lengthened each mile. I may not have graduated from college as Dad hoped his only son would, but I had always been a sensible and responsible driver and knew that I couldn’t change that now—except the nearest town was still at least two hours away, and I needed to sleep.

    Pulling over to the side of the road I made sure no part of my car was still in the road. There wasn’t a lot of space, but I managed; and I left my parking lights on just so I could be seen in the darkness of the night, unlit by the new moon.

    Just a short nap was all I needed; reclining my seat back, I quickly drifted off.

    Not knowing how long I had been out, flashes of light caused me to bolt upright in my seat. Rubbing my eyes and blinking them into focus, I wasn’t sure what I was seeing. Fireballs, falling from the sky—more than I could count!

    Having seen enough “end of the world” stories played out on the big screen, I couldn’t help but wonder if this was it. This was how it was all going to end. I would die along the side of the road in the middle of nowhere. Alone.

    Pinching my eyes closed in spite of wanting to see what was happening, I prayed. I wasn’t exactly praying one of those “in-the-face-of-doom-bargaining-with-God” prayers. But I certainly saw my life from a perspective of what was important and what wasn’t. I had just buried my father, for goodness sake. Death was very fresh in my mind. I prayed that I would have a chance to make something of my life.

    My life mattered and I wanted the chance to live in a way that mattered.

    Bird songs filled the silence—beautiful, melodious bird songs. Opening my eyes again I was startled to see the sun had already risen above the horizon.

    It was morning? Had I prayed all night long? What became of the fireballs that had rained upon the earth? Had it happened? Or had I been dreaming?

    I stepped out of the car and stretched my aching limbs. I listened to the sounds of morning. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. There was a light breeze carrying the scent of honeysuckle. The only thing that seemed different—I felt renewed. I remembered my prayer and my desire to live a life that mattered.

    Settling back in behind the wheel, I smiled, remembering the care Dad had taken in growing honeysuckle in his garden.