Ange du Mal
Page 30
“So I’m in Limbo. Perfect. I could never bend backward enough for that stupid pole at Rosanna’s quinceañara.”
No wonder the petersword was acting up. I had unlocked the unlockable through my desire to escape. A place beyond the reach of angels and demons: the repository for souls, where the original apple-picking ditz had disappeared to for millenia, only to be reincarnated as me.
Mystery kid picked more roses, then deftly wove them into a garland. He had wild curls of black hair and a tan my ginger complexion would kill for.
Dark eyes lit like sparklers. With a hop, he joined me in the ravine, then placed the flower crown on my head.
I guessed he was an adolescent, twelve at most. However old he was, the kid didn’t know when to shut up: “How pretty. I’ve been waiting for you for a while. A lot of people have forgotten me. Sure, they remember my name, but they don’t remember me. Like Dad, I’m a wanderer. Maybe it’s my fault that my words have gotten twisted - I’ve been away for ages. Enough time to turn water into wine.”
I groaned. “You are not who I think you are. I can’t deal with any more revelations.”
I sat up. Kid offered me his hand. He was one of those saplings that shot up on the cusp of puberty, too tall for his lanky body.
The kid grinned. God, that smile: he could charm a lion away from its kill. No wonder he was holy.
“You don’t have to call me Jesus. Just Yeshua. I know you have hang-ups over religion. Remember, I hear people’s prayers. You sure did pray for BLTs a lot during services. As a fellow sandwich lover, I can respect that. Anyways, fact is, Dad’s missing. He’s the only one that can stop the Apocalypse. And we’re the only ones that can find him. You have the keys, and I have the map. So what do you say, Shannon? Want to find God?”
Against all common sense, I said yes – yes to a road-trip with tweenage Christ.
“Great,” Yeshua said. “You’re driving.”
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Thank you for reading this book! It was a labor of love. If you would like to learn more about the author and her other works, visit trickstertango.wordpress.org.
About the Author:
Allister Crawley is an avid writer and poet who enjoys long walks along the Styx, preferably without Samael. She can be contacted at eldritch.wanderlust@gmail.com.