Wings: The Beginning

A Short Story

Introduction

This is going to be a running serial of short stories, and hopefully eventually a novel or three, and possibly a cartoon!

Some of you may note that my angels have “generations”, young ones, and parents. For those who cite Matthew 22 as contradiction to this, if you read the Luke account, you will see that the exact wording is different. If you accept that wording, it could be construed that Jesus was merely saying angels do not die. Whether this is what he actually meant I doubt. But that will suffice within the context of these stories.

Now for the story.

Messenger. The worst detail in Heaven. Please, Lord, Ezekijah prayed to the Maker, let me not be a Messenger, anything but a Messenger.

Ezekijah was a Power. The Powers were angels of the seventh order. They presided over groups of people. The job possibilities were: Guardian, the most exciting detail, entailed the physical and spiritual protection of humans. Messenger, the worst detail, was just that, an angel who delivered messages for God. Wonderful job. NOT!!

There were other details, too, details such as Watchers, who guard the portals to Limbo, Keepers, who protect the Garden of Eden, Trainers and Instructors, who teach young angels, and Avengers, who avenge those who had been wronged.

And so, the young Power trainee Ezekijah stood in a hall of his fellow young, wingless angels. At the head was Gabriel, Chief Messenger of The Lord. He was a sturdy, but tall and light angel with a wingspan of 25 cubits. The Archangel’s yellow wings were spread behind him. Ezekijah could see right away why he had been given messenger duty. He was obviously a fast, high flyer, and his humility meant he was not above appearing in visions when necessary. In an odd way, Ezekijah pitied him.

Gabriel continued to read off names; “Susanna, Guardian, “Malachikil, Avenger, and that’s it...oh, one last name...Ezekijah...” Time seemed to slow down. Please, Guardian. Guardian. Scratch that. ANYTHING except Messenger. Thanks. “...You will be coming with me, young Messenger.” NOOOOO!, thought Ezekijah, but all he said was, “Yes, Lord Gabriel.”

As Ezekijah followed Gabriel through the hallways to the Messenger Headquarters, he felt that his last hope had failed him. He did not want to be a Messenger. Everyone knew there was no worse detail than Messenger. Usually it involved manifesting near the one you were to give a message to, or appearing as a vision to them. Very rarely did it involve manifesting anywhere more than a hundred feet away from your intended recipient.

After you delivered the message, you usually performed a voluntary demanifestation, a way of leaving the earthly plane without the pain of forced demanifestation, or you returned to your Celestial Cruiser, a ship which contained distilled essence of great faith, allowing angels to manifest there with ease, and enabling direct access to Earth.

He stepped into a room full of other wingless Messenger trainees. Gabriel motioned for him to sit down. He took an empty seat. Sitting next to him on one side was a burly youth who looked more suited to Avenger Division, and on the other side was a fragile-looking brunette from Class Angel. She looked as though she would make a fine, swift messenger when she got her wings, but for now, she only appeared weak.

All this happened in a much shorter time than it takes to read. While he was looking around at who was next to him, Gabriel stood at the front of the room, his wings tucked behind his back, before a podium.

Gabriel cleared his throat. Being a spirit, everyone knew this had one purpose only: he was about to speak. The other messengers looked on attentively, but Ezekijah only sighed. Gabriel took no notice of him.

“The first time you go through the simulator, you will be assigned a partner. This partner will be your partner throughout your training and probably your entire life until Judgment Day.”

Gabriel continued, “Prepare to enter the simulator.”

The entire class stood up and moved in the general direction of the simulator. Gabˇriel walked among them. Occasionally, he would say “You two are together” or “You and you”, or perhaps, “You two enter.” Finally, only Ezekijah and the fragile-looking brunette were left. Gabriel looked disapproving, then shrugged. “I guess you two are together.”

Ezekijah smiled, the girl looked nervous. “Well? Enter the simulator...”, commanded Gabriel. “Yes, My Lord.”, said Ezekijah. “Yes, Uncle.”, the girl responded nervously.

Gabriel is this girl’s uncle?, thought Ezekijah. If that’s true, then her father must be one of his brothers. Gabriel’s brothers were all dangerous Avengers. Oh boy.

The two of them walked toward the door into the simulator. It opened. Before they went in, Gabriel stopped them. “It would be foolish to enter not even knowing each other’s names, hmmm?” He lifted his eyebrows. “Ezekijah.” “Miriam”, said the girl nervously. They turned and entered the simulator.

They stood inside a room. It was cylindrical, with the two young angels standing in the middle of the circular floor. White lines streaked up and down the walls. Suddenly, they were no longer there.

They had arrived aboard a Celestial Cruiser. Before them stood...Gabriel? Ezekijah quickly realized it was all part of the simulation.

The simulated Gabriel told them, “Your first message will be to young Josh Simpson, down in Bensenville, Illinois. You will take to him a message of encouragement. You will not reveal yourselves. Speak in his thoughts. The equipment you will need is that way.” Gabriel indicated the hall, at the end of which there was a door. It said “ARMORY”. They walked toward it and opened it.

Inside were swords, which they promptly took, looked over, and stowed on their belts, and small boots with little wings at either side of the ankle. They put these on. Ezekijah had heard of wingboots before, but had never actually seen one.

For once, Miriam looked completely at ease. She flitted around the room like--there was no other word for it--an angel. Which she was. Ezekijah, on the other hand, looked like a human who had gotten mixed up with an angel. He rose, flipped sideways, and fell on his face. Miriam started giggling. “Sorry...but that was funny!”

Ezekijah rose into the air again, but forgot to get up first, so he was hanging upside down. “Uuuh,”, he said, righting himself. With a thump, she dropped to the ground, gesturing for him to follow. He awkwardly floated down to the ground and they walked down the hall. Gabriel turned around. “The docking bays are through that door,” he said, gesturing to their right.

They walked down the hall, and Ezekijah opened the door and held it for Miriam. They entered a huge, spacious bay, full of personal vehicles of all assorted shapes and sizes. There were winged motorcycles, chariots drawn by winged horses, and a few futuristic-looking vehicles too.

They stood at the edge now. The wind was blowing something awful, and Miriam instinctively reached for Ezekijah’s hand, which he took. Apart from the obvious implications of this, it was also practical because in this high of windspeed, wingboot maneuvering was very difficult and it would not do to lose track of each other.

“Here goes nothing,” said Ezekijah casually. With that, they jumped. 10 feet from the cruiser. 20 feet. 50 feet. Around here, the celestial energy lost its potency, and they were really battered by the wind. It was all they could do to stay together, and they really had no idea where they were. This went on about ten minutes.

Finally, the wind began to die down. Ezekijah and Miriam floated toward the surface. They were about 20 feet off the ground. They stood in a human city. It was amazing. Neither of them had ever seen any city save Charis, the City Of Heaven before. Now, don’t get me wrong, Charis was an incredible place, but never was it filled with all the interesting, though not necessarily good, things the young angels now beheld. Traffic. A new concept. Crowds. A new concept. Et cetera. “Where are we?” asked Miriam in wonder. “Chicago,” replied Ezekijah with a hint of disgust. “A haven of demons. Come on. Our town is to the northwest.”

They started to fly northwestward, but out from behind a mortal rose a creature so profoundly hideous as to defy the credulity that allowed the young ones to believe he had once been an angel. Then they realized it was merely his apparel. He was a demon, one of the angels who fell during the Luciferian rebellion.

Ezekijah stood in front of Miriam, who looked scared and caught off guard. The demon reached behind him, pulling a mace off his back. The head ignited with Angel Fire. Ezekijah withdrew his sword and his own fire ripped down the blade with blazing ferocity. His face set, the young angel charged the demon. Flapping his wings, the demon rose high into the air. Ezekijah floated upward and swung with his sword. The demon attempted to block with his mace, but it was knocked out of his hand and he ducked.

Time seemed to slow down. The mace’s fire extinquished. It was falling toward a large crowd of humans. Ezekijah raced after it. It was only 5 feet from someone’s head. He caught it, then let out a breath. This hitting a mortal’s head could mean their death, as well as all kinds of security problems. This was supposed to be a silent, invisible mission.

Ezekijah wondered why the demon had not followed him. He looked up and behind him. There stood the demon, throwing fireballs at Miriam. She looked terrified but was holding her own. Ezekijah flew upward as fast as he could, but he was not used to the wingboots. He wobbled and wiggled. Suddenly the demon lashed out with his hands, cloaking them in Angel Fire. Miriam’s resolve was steadfast, but she was weakening.

Ezekijah formed a ball of Angel Fire in his hand and caused it to fly toward the demon, who ducked under it and threw a fireball. Seeing where his fireball was going, Ezekijah extinguished it, but in the time it took to do that, he was thunked in the chest. He began to fall. Falling. Falling. He tried to point his sword at the demon, to throw it, but his chest was streaming his essence and his vision was blurry. He hit the ground, his spirit streaming from his body.

FWOOSH! SMOSH! SMOSH! Ezekijah could barely see anything now. He heard the sounds of Angel Fire and the crashing of fireballs against sword. He reached out with his mind and will, looking for some iota of Spiritual Energy to heal with. It was not there. He shortly blacked out.

He woke up an instant later, back in the simulator. He could see Miriam. She looked as if she was battling an imaginary demon with invisible weapons. Then she fell down, and immediately stood back up. Ezekijah sighed. “That’s that, I guess.” He reached for the door, and Miriam followed. As they stepped out, Gabriel looked at them in mild surprise. “Back so soon? I didn’t think Messenger was that dangerous a detail, did you?” Their leader looked off into space, but Ezekijah knew the archangel was talking to him. The ironic part was, Ezekijah was of a higher order than Gabriel. But accomplishments and merits mattered more than birth and raw potential in Heaven. Gabriel commanded many Powers, and even a few Principalities.

Ezekijah knew Gabriel was talking to him, but that did not mean he accepted it right away. Gabriel looked at them appraisingly. “You will be taking a class in Defensive Combat--Escape-Focused 101 down the hall in classroom 1Beta. You’d better get going.”

As the two young angels walked down the hall, Ezekijah felt anger and embarrasment. Deep down, he knew he had been wrong, but he did not want to admit it. Deep down, he knew that that was pride, and the reason the Cherub Lucifer was wallowing in hell right now was because of his pride. But what he knew deep down was hardly relevant. What was relevant was what he felt. He could hide what he knew deep down.

Later that day, Ezekijah was training. But he was distracted and angry. Rebukes from his instructors about not letting his rage control him only made him angrier. This anger gave him a certain ferocity, but also left him distracted and vulnerable to mistakes. Again and again, his calmer instructors tried to show him what he was doing wrong. He never listened. He escaped tbe opponents in the training scenarios very rarely. Finally the class was released. Gabriel was waiting outside the door.

When Ezekijah left classroom 1Beta, Gabriel stopped him. “Ezekijah,” he said “I know what bothers you. The Lord in His good judgement has made you a Messenger. Why are you not satisfied?”

Ezekijah knew that, as a first-generation angel, Gabriel knew nothing of youth. But he did not acknowledge that his dissatisfaction was due to youthful immaturity. He could not explain what he felt to Gabriel without admitting he was guilty of pride.

Gabriel looked at him with a piercing stare. “I figured as much. You know, Messenger has a reputation as the worst detail in Heaven. But here’s the thing. The Maker made us each with a purpose. We should take the greatest pleasure of all in carrying out that purpose. After all, it was dissatisfaction with his purpose that led to Lucifer’s fall.” Gabriel looked surprised at his own words and said “Man, I am getting way too philosophical all of a sudden.”

Ezekijah smiled. “Thank you, Lord Gabriel. I have been proud. I am sorry.” “It’s not me you should be apologizing to.”, replied Gabriel. Ezekijah turned to go, but Gabriel stopped him once more.

“Ezekijah,” he said, “I would watch my step around Miriam. I mean, I watch my step around her, and I’m her uncle.” Gabriel put his hand to his forehead and screwed up his face in a total mockery of military discipline. “DISMISSED!”, he yelled, then began laughing at himself. Ezekijah joined in after a moment of confusion.

When the laughter had died down, Ezekijah went and personally apologized to the Lord for his pride and stubbornness. And from then on, Ezekijah was a different angel. I won’t say his conversion was complete. His ego would trouble him for decades to come. But now he recognized the problem, and was willing to change.

THE END.

--Not really. There are many more stories where that came from. Glory to God, my Inspiration!

--Sam Starrett