The Fallen and the Elect
Page 76
Epilogue – The First Angelic Eulogy (Unrecorded)
The first eulogy incident occurred without warning or premonition. In the funeral, as in any many other funerals, a simple planked-wood casket lay up front. For this culture, it laid closed, contrasted as opposed to America, where the body is presented in the glory of its decaying and rotting mass. The decedent’s family occupied the first two rows of pews. Friends, coworkers, associates, others who knew the deceased and were there only for the semblance of support, sat scattered throughout the chapel. The weighted emotional pressure of grief suffocated the chapel.
Something sweet, flowery, too evanescent to explain wafted in the air. Everyone breathed in a smell unfamiliar to the accustomed acrid, dusty, and desiccated summertime air of the Mexican village. The torrent of a thousand spring times flooded the memories of most in the aromatic environ.
How could something so beautiful just appear? Its eyes were black within what appeared to be another shade of black. Some were at first shocked, unsure they even saw the radiant seraph. Others were fully aware of the vision before them, which was not the aura of some ghostly apparition but an actual physical creature. Their bladders emptied. The warm, soft, compassionate expression upon the angel’s face eased the apprehension of those in the sanctuary. As unexpected as its arrival, the being charmingly and benevolently began the eulogy of the funeral of the deceased. First, a summary of his birth, the synopsis of his childhood, the recapitulation of his youth, a memorialized voyage of his teenage years, college, and medical school leading into a dissertation of the wonderful research work by the decedent prior to his passing. Throughout the eulogy, many began to recite rosaries; some prayed; others so affected by the beauty before them cried.
A second angel appeared. The expression on its face, some would say, was anger and fury, a radiant sword held across its chest. With a thunderous voice, it interrupted the first and made one boisterous statement, “The Lord rebuke thee and depart!” The first angel flashed a scowl toward the second and then disappeared. The new arrival perused the small sanctuary with a disapproving look; the growing intensity of the lustrous sword increased the feeling of impending malfeasance. Some fainted, some began weeping in fear this was the angel of death. Those whose bladders had emptied earlier were surprised to have involuntarily relieved themselves again.
Terror, fright, and fluctuating ranges of horror flooded the attendees’ emotions since the second seraph-like creature appeared. The officiating priest was one of several falling unconscious onto the floor. Many no longer wanted to stay. The stampede of mourners who were conscious flooded toward the exits. Children were dragged like little rag dolls; an old man falling was snapped up, only the love and consideration of his adult grandson reaching down in the panic, grabbing him by his old cracked leather belt, and almost fracturing the bones of the elderly man’s frail body. The doors of the church now mysteriously locked prevented anyone from departing. Many looked back toward the main sanctuary. They wondered what would happen next and then witnessed their final sight.
The chapel evinced silence; most were now dead, except for two, one male on the floor, alive but unconscious. The other, a middle-aged Latina, a mole over her right eye, emotionally frozen in place, paralyzed with fear throughout the entire incident, which altered her hair to have silver streaks interwoven with the black. Her name was Ashere. The angel, Abriel, spoke to her, “Do not reveal what was witnessed, nor what is to come, yet you shall be guided.”
Acknowledgements
I have to thank Pamela and Emily K. G. for their wonderful help in moving me forward to finish this project and very much appreciate their insights for the story. This is also so very true for Cesar, Cynthia, Monika, Shirley, and William, without a doubt, your support in helping to keep it real and truly providing substantive input is appreciated very much.
I also have to thank the crew at the now-closed Coffee Depot in Riverside, CA, for listening to my ramblings of this story and providing the feedback to keep it plausible and interesting, which I hope comes through.
Most important of all, I would like to thank you the reader for travelling along with the story. I thoroughly hoped you enjoyed it.
Discover Other Works by Jerry Rogers
Novella and Novels
Legend of the Salad Traveler
The Fallen and the Elect
North of Elysium
Short Stories
Rebel Marriage
Light in the Eyes of Father
About the Author
Jerry Rogers is a career airman working both in the United States Air Force and in the California Air National Guard, with over 26 years’ experience working in technology supporting legacy and state-of-the-art telecommunication and data-communication systems. He also worked for nearly seven years working in Information Technology at two post-production film companies. He’s also traveled extensively across the county to each of the contiguous 48 states and around the world to both Asia and Europe.
Ever since he was a teenager, Jerry's always had a fascination with Religion and Science Fiction and has always enjoyed writing, starting with writing short stories over the years. He took the next step and wrote a humorous novella called “The Legend of the Salad Traveler.” He later began working on his first novel, the Fallen and the Elect in 2011 developing the concept after months of research, building notes, and jotting down ideas into developing a full story outline and plot. See what else is brewing at his website.
Connect with Me:
Follow me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/jjkrogers
My Site (with blog): https://www.jjkr-writings.info