by Mark Tufo
“Father, please!” The newly arrived angel turned and looked between them, pleadingly before pressing his face to the marble floor at God’s feet. “My father is touched with madness, Holy Lord. He knows not what he does. Spare him…Please, spare him!”
Lucifer’s eyes filled with fear for a moment. His son, Raphael was pleading for his life which meant that he would give up his own. “Raphael, no!”
Fighting now with all his might against the chains, God’s face tightened and contorted with the pain of the decision. Lucifer was his most loved and prized creation. Raphael was his son, born with the heart of bravery, compassion and love for mankind.
“Do you see, Lucifer?” His voice cracked with the breaking of his heart as he spoke to the angel being restrained before him. “This is why I created you. Compassion, and duty.”
Lucifer’s face was wrought with torment and disdain for his Maker, his wings bound behind him were fighting to be free but the weights and shackles were heavy, forcing him into the position he was in. It infuriated him even more.
“Compassion.” He spit the words out like a poison he could not stand to taste upon his tongue. “Compassion for the mortals that defy you?! Who turn their backs on you! They are pitiful and weak at heart and soul. WE give you our will, our love, and our loyalty and you chain us to protecting the filth you have spread out across the earth!”
Lucifer’s words ended with him lunging forward, only to be jerked back by the two guards beside him.
Raphael crawled to his father and continued to beg for him be still, “Father, please! Why are you doing this?”
Lucifer’s heart raced with conflict. The brilliance of the beating muscle shone through the translucent skin of his chest, before dimming slightly again, “My son…” Tears fell from his eyes then, remembering his mother who was now banished from Heaven for the shame of their transgression. The mortals were paired, could mate and create children but angels were forbidden this kind of freedom. They were merely the employers of God’s law. They were merely his soldiers, watchers, and entertainment. He spoke, they acted. Because of God’s affection for his first “born” creation, he spared Raphael in hopes that it would bring Lucifer back to the bosom of the King, but instead it made Lucifer’s plight that much stronger.
Without warning, Lucifer’s wings shattered the weights and chains, his form rose to its full height, and his heart illuminated brightly with such force that the guards at his side had to shield their eyes, “I do this for you!”
Suddenly, with sword drawn, Lucifer ran at God unleashing a scream. The pillars shook around them until they began to weaken and fall upon the ranks beneath them. Seeing the intent of their former General, the soldiers were called to attention prompting action with intent on stopping the attack on the King. Just as Lucifer had reached the steps and thrust out his sword, the world around him slowed to a crawl and the sound of a horn filled the air stunning him with the decibel of its power and vibration. Every single piece of matter around him was completely still, from the falling debris to the swarm of soldiers. Though he could not move he was aware when God’s voice filled his mind.
“For your crimes, you shall be imprisoned beneath the bowels of the earth. To crawl under those you hold such contempt for until such time as you learn humility, and love.” God’s voice broke again and Lucifer watched as his Creator’s hand twisted his sword so that the edge glinted with power. The sound of the blade cutting through the air was a sound that Lucifer would never forget, for all eternity.
Noooo! He screamed within his mind and witnessed the execution of his son, Raphael. A sacrifice made by God to save Lucifer’s soul.
The world came into focus again. Debris exploded around him like shrapnel and the guards were thrown away. Raphael’s body fell limply in slow motion to the floor as Lucifer ran to catch him. The blood of his only son poured like wine over his fingers even as Lucifer tried to press his palms to the wound in effort to make it stop. Raphael tried to speak but the gash in his throat made it impossible. He choked and gurgled fearfully, then fell quiet.
“Shh, my son.” The words could barely be choked from his Father’s mouth. He felt the life of his child slipping and his energy, the life source that he was made of, snaking up through his own arms, until he was completely absorbed. Raphael’s physical body slowly dispersed into light and then faded like a star in the distant universe.
The room around him continued to tremble and the world continued to be showered in blood rain. Lucifer did not care. A world away, he heard the scream of Raphael’s mother raise up and fill the skies like a dragon’s cry. Holding his head in his hands, he continued to kneel among the chaos to mourn his son before finally the madness consumed him whole.
“It is time for you to go, Lucifer. I can no longer look upon thee.” God turned his face from Lucifer and began to walk away. The guards had surrounded the King, protectively, as they moved in silent footsteps to the entrance of the tower.
With a hiss, Lucifer stood up again and extended his razor tipped wings in all their glory, aiming his sword at his Creator, “Condemn me to my belly; I’ll still walk all over you.” Lucifer had raised his own army and they began to close in.
Turning to the sound of gathering masses, God’s eyes widened. He looked upon his ranks of angels who had collaborated with their brother and betrayed their King. They had witnessed the slaying of Raphael, and now they were there to claim blood for blood.
In a last minute decision to end all the bloodshed, and to save the lives of the angels that remained in his service, God released the final command which ended Lucifer’s ability to enter Heaven, ever again. The floors opened up and universe cracked, sending darkness swirling in. The whirlwind was more than even Lucifer could fend off. The black hole roared and inhaled, stretching further and further around them until each angel who stood at his side was dragged down into the abyss.
Lucifer, who wanted only unchained will and freedom to love, became consumed by his hate and anger. He climbed atop his own throne and ruled over the Fallen with an unforgiving hand. They had no choice but to follow him and do his bidding with the ultimate goal of destroying everything that God held dear.
REVELATOR - ISABEL
The year is 1254. Having exhausted all his funds and a dire need for him to be home with this family, Louis IX of France returns home. Pope Innocent IV excommunicates Rudolph I of Germany who would later become the Holy Roman Emperor. By the end of the year, Pope Alexander IV succeeds Pope Innocent IV.
She was breathing. The painful expanding and contracting of her of her ribcage told her that and the only sound that she could hear was the sound of her own breathing in the still of the darkness that surrounded her. A darkness that was so thick that even with her eyes open she could see nothing. Her body ached like she’d been beaten for days and she could feel her skin, cold as a corpse, wrapped around her body to try and stop shivering.
It brought back childhood memories of a time when Louis and she played hide and seek. Isabel hid in mother’s closet one afternoon but got locked in. At first she thought it was fun. She played in all mother’s dresses until the minutes which seemed like hours ticked away until she realized, suddenly, she could not hear anything outside the door. What a great hiding spot! Louis would never find her here. Isabel sat down on the floor and began to crawl under the hems of gowns, letting the material brush over her face. The small sliver of light from under the door just off in the distance when she saw a shadow run past, causing her to freeze where she was. She had to remain silent or Louis would find her, and win. Rolling back to sit on her heels, Isabel leaned further into the darkness and felt the prickling of danger, raising the hairs on the back of her neck. Something was there with her.
She remembered, now, screaming and banging on the large oak door. The sound of the brass handle jiggling was still fresh in her mind. Another blood curdling scream and the light finally washed in, blinding her momentarily as the nanny opened the door and reached for
her, snatching her small arm to jerk her to safety. The sound of Louis’ laughter could be heard and Isabel cradled the crook of her arm over her eyes to shield them from the offending light. She remembered the feeling of how heavy the thumping of her heart in her small chest was while being chastised by the woman, and ridiculed by her sibling.
Isabel curled into a fetal position letting the memory fade away. She tried to cry but there was no moisture in her mouth or her eyes. She could only weep in dry silence. Her entire small frame shook with despair.
Just like the closet door letting in the light when she was seven, the light rushed in and blinded her, now. This light was different. This light was brighter. It was pure like sunlight. She lifted her hand upward to protect her vision which had grown used to the darkness. Sensitive eyes squinted at the offensive brightness and tried to focus on her surroundings.
All Isabel could see was the blood that dripped from her hands and along her arms. Smeared trails of blood and dirt made their winding path to her torn and ragged fingertips. Crying out, she gasped and wrung her hands together to try and clean them. She was crying again. The realization of what happened flooded her, pulling her into their smothering depths.
“No!” she screamed.
She was grabbing her skirts now trying to spit on the material to rub off the blood. Looking down, she saw that it was everywhere. It was futile to try and clean it but she could not stop herself. Panic swept in and she began screaming louder, rocking her body and repeating the word over and over again. No! No! No!
“Nooo!!” there was no echo and the sound assaulted her own ears.
The morning light had trickled into the room along with the cool draft of winter’s air, taking with it the nightmare that continued to claim her, repeatedly, for the past few months. Isabel stirred in her sleep, curling up deeper into her thick, wool blanket. Shivering a little, she’d squint and bring her knees up so that she was in the fetal position, again. Just as she was about to fall back asleep when she was awakened to the chill once more moving against her feet. Using her toes to tug the blanket down, she avoided full consciousness for another five minute’s rest. Beginning to shiver, yet again, pulled her out of the sleep world. Opening one eye, she gazed down to see the blankets were off her legs. She sighed and tugged them over her body, cocooning into it but the blankets were suddenly jerked off of her and thrown into a crumpled heap at the bottom of the bed.
With a gasp, she sat up and looked around, expecting to see someone there; another nun, Father Raphael or anyone. Even with the first light of morning, the grey was too dark to see much of anything so Isabel scooted to the top of her meager bed, drawing her knees to her chest. Tucking her freezing toes within the hem of her nightgown, she wrapped her arms around herself. Her hand began to tremor slightly and she grasped it with the other to still it, paying no mind to it, other than fear and cold.
“Just dreams,” she’d say aloud to herself.
Standing up from her bed, Isabel lit the candle beside her and shuffled into her shoes. She walked to the window to gaze outside and saw Marciel walking in the garden. A man she’d never seen before was at his side. The two seemed engrossed in conversation and Isabel wondered if he was just a visitor or if he was new to their town. She smiled a bit then backed up, closing the shutter to her window so that she could begin her morning prayers and dress for the day.
Setting the candle on the small table, she kneeled in front of the crucifix on her wall and made the sign of the cross. When she bowed her head, she could feel a sour churning of her bowels before nausea rose up in her throat. It was so sudden that Isabel was drawn forward to one hand and felt as if the temperature in the room rose twenty degrees, enveloping her in a wave of heat. Confusion set in and she braced herself just as the pain welled up inside her once more.
“Oh God,” she whispered but the rest of the sentence was cut off.
She felt the familiar rush of saliva to her lips which had grown dry and the trembling of her lower jaw that preceded the inevitable; her body was forced forward again and she suddenly felt choked. The scraping in her throat brought about a new pain, even more severe, and she tried with all her might to help it up. Something was lodged in her throat.
She gasped in small doses as often as she could but whatever was in there was tearing its way out and scraping against the tender flesh of her esophagus. Tears swelled in her eyes and she rocked back and forth, afraid she would die from lack of oxygen. Another dry heave and she could feel it on the back of her tongue now. She was disoriented. She had to be. It felt like something metal. Metal!? What is going on?! Reaching an unsteady, fumbling hand up, she dug her fingers into her mouth and scratched desperately to pull whatever it was, out. Her fingertips found the edge, which was sharp and thick. Finally getting a grasp on it, she tugged but the end seemed lodged in the small, enclosed walls of her throat. Her gasps turned to small wheezes and Isabel could feel the tingling of dark spots that came when one was about to lose consciousness.
More desperate now, she pulled without care of the damage that was being dealt to her throat. Saliva mixed with blood fell in long thick strands from her lower lip, the fingers of the hand that held her weight curled against the floor. I can’t breathe! She screamed inside her mind. The object was growing slippery but she continued to pull until finally it moved. She pulled the object from between her lips and a trail of something long followed, seeming to come up from her belly. Shaky fingers slid over what looked like small stones, but her vision was still blurred and the threat of unconsciousness still lingered on the outer edges of her tunneling vision.
Finally! She was able to dislodge the foreign object before passing out, dropping it she heard it clatter to the floor amid the spit and blood. Isabel rushed to her feet still lightheaded, nearly falling as she reached out for the candle and then collapsed to her knees again. She lowered the candle to the floor, lowering her face to inspect the area. What she saw ripped through her with a fear so deep, she feared for her very soul. Setting the candle down, she fought back the coughing sensation caused from the itchy, scrapes against her tonsils. There was no denying what it was that was in her throat. Sliding her fingers through the blood and spit, she grasped it not believing it was real. It was her rosary!
Isabel’s teary eyes fixated on it for a long moment, lacking understanding. How could this be lodged in her throat? Had she gone mad? The sounds of the bells outside sent her reeling and she nearly knocked the candle over. Afraid of what was happening; Isabel quickly hid the rosary under the make-shift mattress of her bed and cleaned up the mess of fluid off the floor. Pushing it to the back of her mind, she did her best to look presentable. She threw her clothing on and ran out to meet the others for morning prayers, Lauds, chores, and breakfast.
When Isabel passed me that morning as I was coming in from the garden, she looked pale and worried. I felt something in her that I had never felt since knowing her. She was normally tranquil and full of peace but now she looked as though she was running scared. The other nuns bustled around her quietly and quickly but Isabel seemed lost. I watched her look over her shoulder several times before being nudged by Miriam toward their destination, and Isabel nearly dropped her bible. She caught it just before it landed on the stones before I noticed that her hand was trembling.
I nodded a hello to her as she brushed past me with her head down and caught a glimpse of blood against her collar. I frowned, concerned for her well-being but turned back to the way I was walking then paused when something caught my attention. Something was on the ground where she had almost dropped her bible. I moved toward it and realized it was Isabel’s rosary. Picking it up, I quickly rushed back out to return it to her. It took me a couple of light jogs but I finally caught up with her and placed my hand on her elbow, “Isabel, you dropped this.”
She tried to smile but I could see it was not genuine. Her trembling hand turned upward to receive the rosary and I cupped mine underneath, spilling the beads into her palm. Almos
t at once, she began a violent coughing fit. The other nuns shot me a glare drenched in angry silence then rushed toward their holy sister to assist her. I felt the sickness in her but I did not want to believe it. Stepping back, I kept my gaze on her, consumed by worry.
From behind, Father Dulante spoke, “Is she alright?”
“Yes,” I said a little too hastily, and then smiled a bit to cover the truth of my concern. “She is fine. She probably just caught a chill.”
Father Dulante tugged his robes to his body a little more, nodding agreeably, “Yes, it is unseasonably cold.”
His breath hung on the air between us.
“We should get inside before we catch it, too. Father Raphael doesn’t allow for us to take ill. The Lord’s work does not sleep, right?”
I grinned at him and he laughed.
“Careful, Marciel, I think he has ears on every flower” he said. He reached out to pat my arm and started to walk toward the chapel when his words seemed to cause the hair to stand up on my arms.
“Come! Let us go to morning prayers, brother!”
As much as I tried to stay focused, I could not. After morning prayers I brought the soiled laundry to the lay women to be cleaned but knocked over a bucket of water. I was thoroughly chastised for my clumsiness before being shoo’ed back out. Being mortal was hard. As much empathy as we Angels had toward humans, and as much jealousy as some of us could muster, I could never conceive how easy it was to be what WE were.
I guess at this point it would make sense for me to introduce myself. My given name is Marciel. As often is the case, I was sent by God to watch and record the life of one mortal. In this case, it was Isabel. Posing as human, I took a humble position in the sanctum. I would clean up after the elderly who were afflicted with leprosy. I would clean their bandages, change their bedding and sit with them. Sometimes, they just needed to have someone listen and so I would. It was close enough to Isabel to be aware of her and record things that I needed to.
