The words of formation? This stands out to me. I wonder if those are the same as the words that the shop keeper spoke of. I doubt they would be speaking of the same words that I had in my mother’s locket. I’m sure most religions teach of God speaking words to create the world. It has to be a coincidence, hasn’t it?
“It was Adam’s act of disobedience that set this world into its current and twisted state of imperfection,” the pastor continues. “But the time is at hand when the wicked will be burned up like ash and the world will be raised to a state of perfection as it was before. And we are the worthy vessels that will see that day and be raised with it. So have been the words of the angel to us. We shall hear those words spoken again by the chosen vessel, the words that will usher in the end.”
The pastor moves on to spout off commandments of God to the congregation. Several of them are familiar, like don’t kill and that sort of thing. Although, he goes as far as not allowing the killing of even animals. “The lowest of life is precious to God,” he says. “For all have contained the souls from the great wheel of rebirth. Even the bean should not be consumed, for it symbolizes the budding of new life.”
Well that explains the dietary restrictions I’m forced to endure. However, I am not so convinced that eating Betsy in my burger is that great of a sin. The way I figure, if I ever got eaten by a bear, I wouldn’t hold it against him, so Betsy shouldn’t hold a grudge either. It’s just part of the laws of nature. Of course, the visual of being eaten by a bear makes me reconsider my ideas.
The pastor turns to the window behind him, depicting the seraphim. “The day is at hand brothers and sisters, when the great devour of worlds will come forth like a comet from the heavens. And his name will be called Wormwood. No man can stand against him. Only he shall deliver us.” He is quite animate about the whole thing. There are a few Amens and Hallelujahs that come from the congregation. Ashur seems disturbed by the whole thing. The pastor then turns back to the pulpit, wiping sweat from his brow. Looking over the group one last time, he bows his head and offers another prayer, ending the service at last.
As we leave the church, I see that Ashur is still troubled. “What‘s wrong?” I ask.
“Nothing,” he says, sternly. I can tell that he does not want to tell me what he knows.
“So that’s it,” I say. “You’re just going to keep me in the dark. I guess that’s what angels do. They keep their secrets to themselves and leave us mortals to wander in the dark alone.”
“God leaves no one alone,” Ashur says.
“Really? Then where was he when I was taken from my mother and placed in a house of strangers.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Then enlighten me,” I demand. “Or am I just too mortal to understand.”
Ashur looks around at the crowd of parishioners exiting the church. He takes my hand, and leads me to a quiet spot away from the crowd but still in full view of them. We stop, but he does not release my hand. At first I am resistant. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he says. “Just close your eyes.”
“Why?”
“Just do it,” he says. “You’re too caught up in what you see in front of you that you cannot see what is.”
“That makes no sense,” I say. It seems that the only answers that you can get from God or His angels are guarded in some mysterious riddle that has no meaning at all. It’s probably just to get us to accept the fact that it’s all too complicated so we will stop asking annoying question that they don’t want to answer. Nevertheless, I concede to Ashur’s request to close my eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh as I do, to signify the fact that I am not amused by the whole thing.
“Very good,” he says mockingly. “You can follow instructions.”
I open one eye slightly to glare at him. He makes a gesture with his free hand to close my eyes again. After he is certain my eyes are closed, he says, “Now I will show you what I see.” He breathes steadily.
A warm sensation travels from his hand to mine as if he were transferring some unseen energy to me. I can feel it travel up my arm. As it does, the hair on my forearms stand on end. Every nerve tingles, nearly causing me to let go. The current of energy runs up my shoulder, along my neck and continues to the space slightly above the bridge of my nose.
“Try to keep your mind clear,” he says. “Just focus on that space on your forehead, between your eyes.”
I do as he says. In the void of thoughts, I see a light, though my eyes remain closed. It is a white light, beyond any purity of white I have ever seen. At the fringe of the glowing orb, the light frays into an array of colors that fill out the rest of the blackness that was once there. As I continue to stare into the light, I can feel my consciousness being propelled forward toward the flowing rays, and through the light as if I am no longer sitting in my own body, but solely in that radiance.
From this point of view, I am able to see the crowd of people standing outside the church as they were before, but there are more. Others stand among them. Some are black, as if they are covered in shadow. Others are white with an intense light that seems to emanate from them. “What are they?” I ask.
The voice of Ashur enters my mind, although something tells me his words are not spoken. “There is a battle that exists in every soul. There are those voices of darkness that tempt and discourage, striving to plunge the soul into the same misery and despair that they find themselves in. Those are the outcasts of God, the fallen of Lucifer who rebelled and were cast to the ethereal realms of Hell. The others are the angels, sent to entice men toward the light that abounds in the universe.”
“What do they say?” I ask. Even as I ask the question, my consciousness is projected forward toward Liv who is standing in the distance, near Jeff and Justine. She is listening to them talk, but somehow her mind is elsewhere. I can hear the thoughts that enter her mind like whispers just below the noise of the world.
One whispers, “You are nothing. Your father gets angry because you disappoint him. Because you’ll never be as good as your mother.” Even as the voice speaks I can see her expression darken and I can feel the heaviness of her heart. I am sad for her and want to reach out to her, to tell her not to listen, but I can’t.
Then another voice comes. This time it’s from the angels, “You are more than you think you are. Yours is a divine nature. Your heart is filled with love towards all, even your father who hurts you. You are loved more than you can know.” The words bring hope and a feeling of comfort, but I can sense her brushing them aside, choosing not to listen to them.
My heart is pained to think that she will not listen to the voices. I yell out to her, “Why won’t you listen to them?” But my voice is nothing more than a whisper in her mind, drowned out by her own thoughts, which speak their own condemnation as she denies those words spoken by the angels. She instead confirms what the dark voices say as if it were a more certain fact. “Don’t listen to them,” I demand. But she doesn’t listen.
I am helpless. I can do nothing to dissuade her from her own thoughts. She will not listen to me or the angels. I can see the darkness that surrounds the fallen ones begin to wrap around her as she continues to tear herself down. “Stop it,” I exclaim. “You don’t know what you are doing.” There is still no response from her. The darkness coils around her, like a python constricting around its prey.
I want to turn away. I don’t want to see this anymore. The sight is too grotesque. But I cannot keep from seeing it. My whole consciousness is caught up in it. “Stop this,” I plead with Ashur. “I don’t want to see anymore.” He does not answer. An uneasiness comes over me as if I am trapped in some unending hell. I strain not to see what is going on, but I am continually forced to look. Why would he do this to me? Why would he make me witness this? It’s then that I notice a faint light pulsing in her heart. Despite the efforts of the dark vapor to choke it out, it remains steady, though faint.
In an instant, my consciousness is reeled back and I am standing ag
ain in my body. The uneasiness is gone, along with the tingling in my hand and arm. I can only feel Ashur holding my hand. I open my eyes and everything is as it was before the vision. Ashur is staring at me.
“You saw it didn’t you?” he says. “You saw the light in Liv.”
I nod my head, confused. “What was it?”
“Hope,” replies Ashur. He looks over at Liv who seems unaware of anything that has happened. “Despite all the dark thoughts that plague her, she will not relinquish one last ray of hope.”
“With all that darkness what hope could she possibly have?” I ask.
“It is the memory of her mother,” he says. “She remembers her mother’s love for her, and in that she finds hope.”
“But her mother is dead,” I exclaim, bitterly.
“Not as long as that light still burns within her,” he says. “Angels often say that the love of the mother is the kindle of the fire within the hearth of the soul.”
I think of my own mother and the anger I feel towards her, wondering if there is any spark of that light left in me. “Will that light ever go out?”
He is hesitant in replying. “There is always hope.”
Something in me tells me that this is a lie. There isn’t always hope. Sometimes bad things can’t be avoided. In that there is no hope. As I think these thoughts, I can feel bitterness overwhelm me, and that uneasiness returns that I felt when I saw the darkness surrounding Liv. I am angry that Ashur would show such a thing to me. “Why? Why did you show that to me?”
“Because it was the only way for you to understand why I don’t want to tell you everything.”
“But I still don’t understand.”
A mournful soberness comes over him. “I was that angel trying to get you to stop listening to the darkness around you, but you wouldn’t hear me. I felt as powerless as you did when you saw Liv as the darkness tries to extinguish what’s left of that light within. Only I couldn’t stop seeing it.”
I don’t know what to say. I remember the helplessness and the wanting for it to end. To endure that day after day and not be able to do anything about it seems unimaginable. “Isn’t there something else you can do besides whispering?”
“What you heard as merely whispers were as loud as war cries. Only they were not spoken to the ears, they were spoken to the heart.”
“So then speak to her directly, so she can hear it,” I say. Surely there is a better way than this. There must be something that can be done.
“Do you think that telling Liv those things would change her heart? The heart is a sensitive instrument, tossed about by the currents of thought. What she chooses to think affects her heart and consequently how she sees the entire world?”
“But I can tell her she is a good person,” I say desperately. “She would listen to me.”
“Will she?” Ashur gestures to Justine who is still talking to Liv. “The entire time you were listening to the whispers of the angels and devils, Justine was trying to convey to Liv what a wonderful girl she is. Trying to convince her that what her father does to her is not her fault. Despite everything she says, despite the many years she has loved Liv as a daughter, nothing Justine says can sway her heart. So deeply she has convinced herself of her own worthlessness.”
“Isn’t there anything that we can do?” I ask.
“Even God with all His power, knows he cannot turn an unwilling heart,” Ashur says.
“Then what’s the point,” I say. “Why do anything, if we can’t change people?”
Ashur sighs. “I have asked myself that many times. Many angels see their work without hope. They feel that man cannot change and wonder why God would make such a creature. And why we serve them? They feel that we should separate ourselves from man, that we should not allow our feelings to determine how we interact with humankind. They feel it’s easier that way when those they guard become lost.”
“What do you think?” I ask.
“I don’t know what to think, anymore than you do” he says. “I only know what my heart tells me.”
“And what is that?”
“We can’t give up hope. We can never give up hope.”
I feel my own heart tell me the same thing as I think of Liv. No matter how hopeless it may seem, I cannot give up. She means too much to me. I also realize the reason that I refuse to let others into my heart. I don’t want to be responsible for them. I don’t want to feel the pain of seeing them destroy themselves and not be able to do anything about it. It’s just easier to keep everyone at a distance. But is it right? I know it isn’t, but it’s been so long since I have felt anything for anyone, I don’t know that I can anymore. Liv is the closest I have come since my foster sister. A determination pulls at my heart. I have to help her. I know there is probably nothing I can do, but perhaps that is the point of hope. Perhaps hope is simply believing, when there is nothing to believe in. As we leave, I glance one last time at the church and the depiction of the destroying angel and think how wrong we are.
Chapter 16
Back at the house, Jeff has planned a barbeque and invited the neighbors. Liv’s dad is there and is surprisingly sober. I don’t know if Jeff has talked to him yet, but from his demeanor, I think he has decided to at least tone it down for the barbeque. Jeff is at the barbeque, a soda in one hand and prongs in the other. I’m curious as to what he could possibly make that has neither meet or beans in it. I imagine something along the lines of a roasted zucchini on a hotdog bun. Not very appetizing.
Justine sets out a decorative table and appetizers while she gossips with the other ladies in the neighborhood. Liv and I sit in a hammock that Jeff set up in a secluded part of the yard. Ashur is at the table gathering drinks for us. The one benefit of having an angel around is the fact that they are more than obliging. Unfortunately, it means that a trip to get drinks turns into an ordeal that lasts much longer than it should as each woman in the neighborhood has to stop to talk to him. One particular elderly woman has had him cornered for nearly fifteen minutes and has no inclination of letting him go. I have to laugh watching him balance three drinks while the old lady takes out a collection of pictures for him to peruse.
“So what’s he like,” Liv says. It’s obvious she is still infatuated.
“He’s an angel,” I say. “What else is there to him?” The truth is that there is a lot more to him. I just don’t want to let on that I have noticed anything but the fact that he is an angel.
“I can’t even imagine what it would be like to be with an angel,” Liv says. She tilts her head back and allows her mind to run out as she thinks of the possibilities. “I’ve always dreamed of seeing an angel. Of course, I thought he would have wings.”
“He has wings,” I reply. “He just chooses not to have them around people. He can even fly with them.”
“You’ve seen him fly.” Liv sits up excited. “Did he take you with him?”
I’m reluctant to go into the details. “Umm. Yah. No big deal.”
“No big deal,” she exclaims. “Are you even listening to yourself? You flew with an angel. Most people would be happy just catching a glimpse of an angel. You must be pretty special.” Discouragement crosses her face. “I don’t think I could ever be that good.”
“It’s not like that,” I say. “Believe me; you are way better than I am.”
“You really mean that.” She doesn’t seem convinced.
“Of course. You’re one of the sweetest people I’ve met. If ever there was anyone that deserved to see an angel it would be you.”
“You’re just being nice,” she says.
Ashur was right. No matter what I say to her, she won’t believe that she is worth so much more. I don’t know how to convince her otherwise. “Liv,” I say. My voice is serious with concern for her. “I want you to stop thinking that you don’t matter, because you do.”
Liv glances away rather than look me in the eyes. I know that the voices are telling her not to listen and it angers me. Why don’t the
y just shut up? What pleasure could they possibly get in tearing down such a precious girl? I wish I could just cast all those voices away and send them back to whatever hell they came from.
“Don’t listen to them,” I say.
She looks at me confused. “Listen to what?”
“The voices in your head,” I say. “The ones telling you that you are nothing and that it’s your fault your father hurts you. It’s not true. You’re father is the problem, not you.”
She starts to stand up. Uneasy with what I have said. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t want to talk about this.” She begins to leave, but I grab her by the hand.
Angel Realms 01 The Dawn of Angels Page 17