Something to Believe In
by Trish Bell, (c) 2005
Screams pierced the smog-filled night. In a dark alley in the city, a woman was being raped. She struggled, trying in vain to push her attacker away. Blood flowed in a steady stream from a gash at her left eye.
The entity followed the sounds of her cries to their source, alighting at the back of the alley. He saw the outlines of the two figures reflected in the moonlight, and nodded in satisfaction. Finally. An easy decision to make. No need to bring out the judgment scales.
The entity held his hands up to the sky, summoning the forces at his disposal to gather in his open palms. He felt the pure, righteous energy gathering, growing white-hot at his urging. Ready.
It was time. He brought his hands together at his chest in a thunderclap of force, then turned them, palms outward, and pushed the ball of power toward the man on ground.
There was a blinding flash. Female screams were replaced by male screams. The disheveled woman stumbled, confused, out of the alley, clutching her shirt around her.
The man did not emerge.
#
The entity shot heavenward and disappeared into the sky, searching for a new cause to champion. He stopped at a church. Soft murmuring from behind a closed office door in the back drew the entity’s attention. A priest was embracing a young boy in white robes. The robes were bunched up around the boy’s waist. The priest was clasping his buttocks in both hands, eyes closed in rapture. Disgusted, the entity didn’t bother pausing to assess the situation. He summoned and sent forth the fire of righteousness on the priest. The ball of energy shot forward toward the pair.
The young boy fell backward onto the floor. His body spasmed uncontrollably. The entity’s eyes widened. The boy was having a seizure? The entity watched in horror as his young hand reached out toward the priest. As if he were seeking comfort. Then his eyes rolled back into his head and his small body stilled.
The terrified priest suddenly clutched at his chest. The entity could hear the blood rushing through the man’s veins. The priest moaned and dropped to the ground, clutching the cross at his neck. He crawled over to the boy’s limp body, propping him up and cradling him between his knees. Tears fell from the priest’s eyes. Ignoring the burning pain in his chest, he began mouthing a stream of words against the boy’s damp forehead.
The entity felt the priest’s life force slipping away. It was time to go. The entity stepped over the priest’s fetal body, and moved into the hallway. The man’s frenzied whispers followed him into the corridor.
“...the power of sin. None is righteous... All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God. All have sinned! All have... sinned.” The priest stroked the boy’s cheek as his eyelids fluttered closed for the last time.
The entity closed the office door. Romans 3:23. Not the first time he had heard it. But the first time that the phrase had affected him, given him a cold feeling down the back of his spine.
The entity wasn’t sure why the child had fallen. The fire was only supposed to have an effect on those who had a significant burden of evil on their souls. But a child, so young? What could he have done to deserve a final judgment so early in his life?
The entity would have cursed aloud, if it had been possible for his voice to utter such phrases. If he had used the scales, he could have avoided this tragedy. But he’d been taught that the fire made no mistakes! His judgment scales, he knew, were intended to be used sparingly. To offer a final chance to those teetering on the edge between darkness and light. The entity knew that he had been using them much more often than intended. He wondered if the child had been taken as a warning. Or as retribution.
#
The entity’s great wings beat a steady rhythm in the stillness of the night. Unwelcome thoughts weighed heavy on his mind. He landed inside a hospital, just outside the pharmacy. Inside, he knew, the pharmacist was stealing pills. The entity wasn’t sure how much of an offense this might be, but he was wary of using the scales, because of what had happened to the boy.
He was wary of doing anything, because of what had happened to the boy.
So instead of doling out his normal serving of justice, he tried the only other thing he could think of--talking. He manifested himself to the pharmacist, who dropped the pills and jumped back at the sight of the eight-foot-tall winged creature standing before him. The entity folded his wings and held out his hand to the man. “Please... I need you to tell me why you are doing this.”
#
Frustrated, the entity wandered the halls of the hospital. His talk with the pharmacist had been unenlightening. In fact, it had only served to confuse him further. After giving the pharmacist a stern warning to straighten up, the entity had cloaked himself in invisibility once more and left. He was fairly certain that the pharmacist was still standing there muttering to himself, wondering whether he or not was crazy.
“Wha-- What are you?” An old woman, lying in the bed he was standing next to, had opened her eyes to address him.
The entity blinked, surprised that someone would speak to him. That someone could see him. She must be dying, he thought. It was the only time he could remember that humans had responded to his presence unmanifested.
“I am a guardian angel.” The entity paused, his head dropping to his clasped hands, and then looked up. “I was a guardian angel. I lost my charge. She was just a little girl, but the Almighty called her home early, and I was left with no one to look after. So now, I look after them all.” The entity gestured broadly with his arms. “The world.”
The old woman chuckled. “That’s a big job.” Her laughter died in a fit of coughing. When the fit subsided, she sat up. “An angel, huh? Well, you look like hell.” She started to chuckle again. “Okay, poor choice of words. Exhausted and overworked, I mean. Not as easy as it used to be, I guess?” She paused, her wrinkled eyes searching his face. “Just how long have you been at this, son?”
“Four hundred years. People have changed. Things aren’t simple anymore.”
The woman made a strange face, then sank back against the pillows, closing her eyes. “Maybe they never were. Maybe you’ve changed.”
#
The entity stood in front of the mirror, looking at the ball of energy that he had gathered in his hands. Ready to bring justice to the world.
Justice. If he thought about it hard enough, he wasn’t sure that he knew anymore what that meant.
He was tired of judging. Balancing the weight of people’s wrongs on the scales. Deciding who was right, who was wrong.
He just wanted to believe. To know the righteousness of his actions. The energy jumped and sparked in his hands, impatient to be used. The entity looked down at it. It wouldn’t hurt anyone without due cause.
He trusted in that. Didn’t he?
The entity looked in the mirror. He was exhausted, but still a vision of... what? Radiance? Heavenly goodness? Except for the wings and his extraordinary height, he might pass for a human. How much different from them was he, really?
The entity thought back to the pharmacist’s comment earlier. What did give him the right to pass judgment on them all?
What if he had been wrong, all this time? He shuddered, repulsed at the thought. If so, the horror that he may have wrought over the past few centuries was unthinkable.
He stood staring, motionless, at his reflection. Maybe for ten minutes. Maybe ten hours. It didn’t matter anymore. Nothing mattered, except the truth.
The entity swallowed hard. He had to know.
Hands trembling, the entity slowly brought the ball of energy up to his face, opened his palms toward the mirror, and pushed it toward his reflection. He watched the power arc through the air like electricity.
His lips moved in silent supplication.
Father, forgive me.
The entity closed his eyes and fell to his knees as the fire burned a hole through his reflection.
#
A long crack split the mirror in a jagged line from one corner to the next and then it crashed to the floor. Shards of glass clattered to the ground and fragmented, settling into the spaces between the floorboards.
And then the room was silent.
Empty.
A single, cream-colored feather, marred by a spot of red, drifted to the floor.
###
