Short Stories

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The prince
of the kingdom
of Persia
withstood me....
but Michael,
one of the
chief princes
came
to help me.
[Daniel 10:13]
*****************
(Archangel Michael
has been summoned to
the Throne Room.
About to begin his annual
Christmas-Season-
Throne-Room-Guard-Duty,
he has been called
just a few days earlier.
Michael never comes
with a buddy,
like the other
of the Angelic Host;
he is always summoned
to an audience
with the Lord, alone.
Unlike the other angels,
Michael does not knock
on the Throne Door. He
simply waits for the
issuing command
from his Lord,
and the Father.)
__________________
[GENTLE VOICE.]
"Come in,
Michael."

(The Golden Throne
Room Door opens.
The Heavenly Air
is suddenly scented
with the powerful
aroma of a camp fire,
lit somewhere...in
a deep green
and cool forest,
in the twilight
of a summer's evening.
Michael, whose head
almost reaches the top
of the Golden
and Pearlescent*
Door Frame, quietly enters.
Michael's face,
as usual, is solemn and
stoic; his sculptured high
cheekbones radiate a
pearlescent glow all their
own. His magnificently
high, statuesque wings
are not white,
but actually a subtle rainbow
of beautiful glistening
colors: some of which
have never been seen by
the human eye.
His wings are heavy,
very thick, and never ruffled
or downcast: they are
always straight at attention,
except when during battle,
they are as powerfully
in motion
as the angel, himself.
Michael's angelic-skin
is dark-hued; his hair
is a thick black, hanging
over his muscular,
brown, satin-smooth shoulders
in long heavy
strands of wavy-curls.
His hair is never mussed
or frizzy, though the
Archangel, like one of
the King's knights
of the romantic medieval-days
in Earth's history......
pays no attention to it,
at all. He never pays any
attention to anything,
except his Lord and Master,
and the Father.

Michael walks, barefoot,
over the Gold Tiles
of the Throne Room Floor:
keeping his eyes straight
ahead and fixed on the
Two Thrones in his view.
Without a pause, upon
reaching the line of
velvet cushions before
the Thrones,
he immediately kneels
face down: his huge sword,
it's pure gold shaft
reflecting the Light
of the Two Thrones,
makes a scraping sound
upon the Gold Tile, and
his huge gold-tipped wings
folding inward in one lovely
and majestic motion.
Archangel Michael has
all the beauty and
exquisiteness of Satan,
but without
even a hint...
of vanity,
or pride,
or self-absorption.
And, all of his muscular,
magnificent strength....
comes from the Lord.)

(Upon kneeling facedown,
the Archangel
does not say a word:
only waits for his
Lord to speak.)

[GENTLE VOICE.]
"As you know,
Michael.....
it is the Season of
Celebration."

(Michael, continuing
to be facedown on the
royal-blue velvet cushion,
murmurs quietly. His
voice is lovely: not like
that of the musical angels,
but deep, and rich,
and heavily accented.)
"Yes,
my Lord."

[GRUFF FATHERLY VOICE.]
"At EASE, Michael!
You can SIT UP,
NOW!"

(Slowly, and solemnly,
Michael sits up;
his knees upon
the royal-blue cushion
will never move,
however,
until he is commanded
to do so.)
"Yes,
my Father."

[GRUFF SIGH.]
"As you know,
We have sent two
of your Fighting-Angels
back down to Earth to...."

[GENTLE CLEARING
OF THROAT.]
"Three...
Father."

[GRUFF VOICE.]
"WHAT?"

[GENTLE VOICE.]
"Nathaniel
went with them: I
felt he was
rested enough
from his recent
injuries to aid
Sylvestor
and Briggund...
to get back
their swords."

[GRUFF, IMPATIENT
SNORT.]
"Some GOOD...
THAT'S GOING TO DO!
It's like the THREE
MUSKATEERS!"

[GENTLE SIGH.]
"That is why We
have summoned YOU,
today, Michael....."

(Michael, very solemn
and concerned,
immediately nods:
his beautiful dark
eyebrows pulled together
in a look of compassion,
and total obedience.)
"Yes,
my LORD!"

[GENTLE SIGH.]
"Sylvestor, Briggund
and Nathaniel are part
of your Fighting Brigade...."

(Solemn, furious nod.)
"Yes, my LORD!
They are part of the
Lower-Right-Squadron of
Fighting Angels who
are sent to battle a few
of the Lesser Demons
of Satan's Army! But,
I KNOW, my LORD,
from EXPERIENCE...
that these Lesser Demons
can be quite
FEROCIOUS!
And......QUITE
RESOURCEFUL!"

[GRUFF FATHERLY
VOICE.]
"We KNOW that,
Michael! That is why
we have summoned YOU,
here, TODAY!"

(Michael nods,
solemnly and with great
alertness.)
"YES, MY FATHER!
I WILL GO WHEREVER
YOU WISH TO
SEND ME!"

[GRUFF SIGH.]
"We are not asking for
YOU to go....
Archangel MICHAEL."

[GENTLE VOICE.]
".....Only,
two angels from
your Special-Units Squadron:
not to fight....but merely,
to be stay in the background
and be
present if......"

(Michael solemnly, and
with reverent hesitation:
interrupts.)
".....If the need arises,
my Lord."
(Solemn nod.)
"Yes, my Lord.
I understand!
YES!"
(Michael nods, again.
The long black curls
along the width of his
magnificent, dark bare
shoulders tenderly sway
and undulate,
like the in-coming
gentle tide of the
aqua-blue ocean along
the coast of Kauai.)

[GRUFF FATHERLY
VOICE.]
"We were thinking,
specifically of William
and Harry."

(Michael's beautiful
dark eyes sparkle
in the Throne Light.
He nods again, furiously.)
"My two Special-Units-Squadron Angels,
from over the
British ISLES?
YES!
YES!
ABSOLUTELY!
I WILL SEND THEM,
IMMEDIATELY!"

[GENTLE VOICE.]
"Now, remember.....
they are only to go
as mere observers,
and rescuers....
if need be."

"YES, MY LORD!"

[GRUFF VOICE.]
"We do not want
William and Harry
to be doing ANY
of the FIGHTING
for those THREE......!"

[GENTLE VOICE.]
"Now,
FATHER........."

[SNORT.]
[GRUFF SIGH.]
"You know EXACTLY
what We want you
to do,
Archangel Michael!"
[GRUFF PAUSE.]
"OH! And,
ANOTHER
THING!"

(Michael, never budging
from his majestic
kneeling position on the
royal-blue-velvet cushion,
becomes immediately alert
and solemm, again.
His intense,
centuries-old love
for the Father and
Son is as enormous
and seemingly infinite,
as his unbelievably
majestic, and
pure-gold-tipped
wing-span.)
"Yes,
my FATHER?"

[GRUFF PAUSE.]
"One of our human
children......
has a CRUSH on YOU."

(Michael's beautiful
dark eyes widen,
in sincere confusion.
Nevertheless,
his statuesque face
remains stoic,
and calm.)
".....A...
C...R...A..S...H,
my Father?"

[GRUFF SIGH.]
"No, Archangel Michael:
a CRUSH."

(Michael, who is
only interested in
whatever his Lord
and his Father
are interested in,
tilts his powerful
dark head
to one side.
His dark eyelashes
are long, and deeply
shadowed.)
"What is that,
my FATHER?"

[GRUFF SIGH.]
[PAUSE.]

[GENTLE BURST OF LAUGHTER!]
"She thinks you are
handsome."

(Completely confused,
yet stoically calm look.)
"I do not KNOW
any humans,
my Lord."

[SMILE!]
"She is one of
Our Hebrew children."

(Michael shakes
his head. His long,
dark hair gently
caresses his
magnificent
and satiny
shoulders.)
".......from the HOLY
land?"

[GENTLE SMILE.]
"No.
From the land
of the Alamo."

"AL....MOE?"
(Michael shakes his
head again, with very
serious confusion.
The only
discussion he is
comfortable with,
is about battles,
and fighting demons,
and Satan's
other minions.)
"I don't think that
I have ever been
ASSIGNED....to
the land of ALMOE
my Lord! Is it......
in PERSIA?"

[GENTLE VOICE.]
"No. It is.....
in the land-to-the-West."

(Michael, never taking
his beautiful dark
eyes off his Lord,
and his Father,
squints just a little.
No crinkles show, on
the sides of his face...
even though he is as old
as Earth's centuries.)
"How does this Hebrew
child KNOW ME....
my Lord?"

[PAUSE.]
[GENTLE SIGH.]
"Well.....
Archangel Michael.....
you are,
in
My Book."
************************
Now
war
arose
in Heaven,
Michael
and
his angels
fighting
against
the dragon.
[Revelation 12:7]



_________________
*In his book,
"90 Minutes in Heaven",
Don Piper said that
the "Pearly" Gates
are actually not made
of little pearls,
but seem to be
a 'pearlescent'
material.


Copyright 2010.

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