Rebel without a Cause
His gaze pierces the cascading sheets of liquid crystal. “Son of the Morning--Anointed One of Covering—Cherub of Light…These My Titles and well suited.” The reflection of the one responding to his gaze was more beautiful than any other. He stood in awe, as eyes of transparent emerald returned his stare. Chiseled features—perfect in every way--his shoulders broad--muscles rippled from chest to calves.
Triceps and biceps of golden bronze complete a perfect torso. Thick wavy locks glazed by sunbeams cover his shoulders. The feathers on each wing’s tip flutter with every pulse. “Yes--a beautiful specimen indeed.”
“Raphael, Please summon Prince Michael. I am in need of his service.” “Yes your Majesty, I’ll send for him at once.” Never before have I witnessed the King’s countenance so sullen. Perhaps I am mistaken. The brightness of his eyes seemed a bit clouded…probably just my own blurry sight. This must be serious if His Majesty desires an audience with the Great Prince. Revered and esteemed by every one of his warriors, this Protector over the Chosen People and High Chief of all armies…yes—a serious matter for certain!
The Prince enters the Throne Room. The King stands alone peering through the quartz windowpane with hands cupped behind his back.
Michael approaches the Throne. His left knee touches the cool marble floor, raising his right fist to his chest, with head bowed, he speaks, “Your Majesty, Raphael has sent word that you desire my humble presence. As always your will is my command.”
“Please stand…come—sit. My faithful friend, thank you for responding in haste. My greatest fears have come to fruition. You were right my Prince. Rebellion disturbs the tranquility. Evil lurks within the ranks…He must be dealt with.”
“Sire, if I may speak?”
“Of course you may, you know that I trust your counsel.”
“Prince Apollyon has disregarded every effort made, to persuade him of the treasonous path on which he now trods. I have personally met with my brother numerous times, begging him to turn from such destructive behavior. I am sorry to report sire, that he has enticed many of our finest warriors to join him. I know that your plan for Prince Apollyon was a voluminous one Sire. Perhaps we will see it fulfilled yet?”
“Go to him my Friend. Tell him that I will meet with him at the Pool of Orah…alone Michael, I would speak with him privately.”
“Yes Sire, your desires are mine.”
The two stand, the King’s arms like embers of hope embrace this trusted servant. The Prince bows, his lips gently press against the mighty hand of his Liege then exits the room.
How could you be so selfish? Don’t you see what you are doing to our King—to the brotherhood—to the entire Kingdom? I could kill you with my bare hands, but then I would be just like you—evil! Yes I know where you lurk…as did the master. The Great Waterfall at the Pool of Orah would be my presumption.
From a distance the Pool comes into view. He sets himself down within twenty-yards of the one he has loved and served with. His wings are now settled and still, but his chest is taking a beating from the pounding of a breaking heart. Beads of regret have dotted his face. Trembling from head to feet, through gritted teeth he weeps. Why? Could you not be content as the highly favored one? Why do you force my hand?
“Honey—dinner’s on the table.”
“I’ll be right there sweetie, I’m just finishing this last sentence.”
Her arms gently wrap around my shoulders, as she closes the laptop.
“Another Manuscript? Well it will have to wait until after dinner. Now bid your friends farewell and come to the table…or should I set out more plates? She chuckles, as we head for the dining room.
“More plates aren’t you the cute one… your will is my command your highness.”
“Careful, I could get used to that title,” she snickered.
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