heaven's best kept secret
original ( this one, with the angels.) gabriel. (Early on there is always a cave, or a desert, or some inhospitable spit of land. And no, knowing it’s a joke doesn’t make it sting less.)
notes: I did threaten more. Janie, I hope you enjoyed Berlin. Next time there might even be plot, for now I'm just playing with the characters.
“Cigarettes will kill you, they say.”
“Hello Gabriel. I’ve been expecting you.”
“Oh come on now. Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Don’t play God, Metatron.”
“Someone has to. He certainly won’t. And it isn’t like I’ve always been the problem child.”
“You know what? I wasn’t either.”
“You aren’t as funny as you think you are.”
“Forgive me if I don’t take your word for it.”
“Gabriel. I can’t help you.”
“Who said I was looking help?”
“You aren’t? So what is it you seek? Guidance? Forgiveness? Strength?”
“You’ve been talking to Michael.”
“Michael has been talking to me.”
“It’s all the same.”
“The last person who didn’t see such distinctions wasn’t long in Heaven.”
“Is that a threat?”
“A friendly warning.”
“You and I were never very good friends.”
-
When Mary says, “but I’ve never lain with a man,” it’s all he can do to keep the laughter from bubbling.
“Tough luck,” sits on the edge of his tongue.
The earth spins on an axis. The sun burns itself slowly away. Here sits a girl and she will birth some approximation of a savior but it won’t take this time either.
“Don’t be afraid,” he says, lays a hand against her dark hair.
Don’t be afraid and he wants her to ask, wants someone to ask, just this once, “why not?”
-
This is the beginning.
Lucifer says, “you look nice. In blue, I mean. You should wear it more often.”
There is a cave. (Early on there is always a cave, or a desert, or some inhospitable spit of land. And no, knowing it’s a joke doesn’t make it sting less.)
It is cold and they sit side by side and Lucifer says, “you look nice,” and his lips are too pink.
Much too pink. And Gabriel can’t look away. Gabriel doesn’t want to look away.
This is the beginning.
-
Michael is loyal and Lucifer is adored and Gabriel. Well, Gabriel is quiet.
This is the way it is. This is the way it has always been. This is the way it will always be.
Then Lucifer falls.
(That’s a lie. It’s Gabriel first. Gabriel is the problem. It’s always the quiet ones you have to watch for.)
-
They try it once, on Earth.
In Paris (because it seems like the proper place) there is a room with white curtains and their legs tangle and the sun crests over the horizon and the scent lingers on their skin, on the sheets.
It isn’t the same.
It’s earthly pleasure, human pleasure. A lack of sharpness, of pain, of something that only Heaven can provide and in the after they lie together and breath.
God is a vindictive bitch. It’s very important to note this before starting any prospective wars over all of creation.
-
Once, before (almost) everything, Azrael leans back, crosses her legs at the ankles and sighs.
“God. You’d think we’d be above everything being about sex.”
Michael’s outrage is a well-aged thing.
Gabriel traps a laugh behind a palm. Lucifer doesn’t say anything, but then he always could say it without words.
-
It’s too much sometimes.
The air. Earth. Heaven. The way the Archangels whisper and the others don’t seem to notice.
How ignorant, how selfish, how intolerant humanity is.
It’s too much.
-
The sky stretches on forever.
The sky stretches in every direction and you can look for a horizon but there isn’t one.
In the beginning the sky has no end and Lucifer walks with a song on his lips, one about the warmth of the wind and how easy it is to fly.
Gabriel turns back to look at him, a smile tossed back and forth between them and for a moment the future is an eternity of summer.
-
God created them. God created all of them.
God created Gabriel. And then God forgave Gabriel.
It matters.
-
“If I hadn’t cast you out, they would have destroyed you.”
Another rooftop, another night. Van Gogh wouldn’t have painted this one.
“And what a tragedy that would have been. Not to spend an eternity on the outside, not to watch you live always just a step outside my reach.”
“I never would have seen you again.”
“And what happens when He gets bored? When He stops indulging your whims?”
“That won’t-“
“You child. Forget one hundred. A hundred and another hundred and another hundred millennia of solitude, of want and you still can’t see Him for His cruelty. And you’re still plagued by faith.”
-
If the argument is faulty, is the conclusion?
God forgave Gabriel.
-
Michael is loyal. And Gabriel is loyal. And Lucifer is damned.
This is how things are.
notes: I did threaten more. Janie, I hope you enjoyed Berlin. Next time there might even be plot, for now I'm just playing with the characters.
“Cigarettes will kill you, they say.”
“Hello Gabriel. I’ve been expecting you.”
“Oh come on now. Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Don’t play God, Metatron.”
“Someone has to. He certainly won’t. And it isn’t like I’ve always been the problem child.”
“You know what? I wasn’t either.”
“You aren’t as funny as you think you are.”
“Forgive me if I don’t take your word for it.”
“Gabriel. I can’t help you.”
“Who said I was looking help?”
“You aren’t? So what is it you seek? Guidance? Forgiveness? Strength?”
“You’ve been talking to Michael.”
“Michael has been talking to me.”
“It’s all the same.”
“The last person who didn’t see such distinctions wasn’t long in Heaven.”
“Is that a threat?”
“A friendly warning.”
“You and I were never very good friends.”
-
When Mary says, “but I’ve never lain with a man,” it’s all he can do to keep the laughter from bubbling.
“Tough luck,” sits on the edge of his tongue.
The earth spins on an axis. The sun burns itself slowly away. Here sits a girl and she will birth some approximation of a savior but it won’t take this time either.
“Don’t be afraid,” he says, lays a hand against her dark hair.
Don’t be afraid and he wants her to ask, wants someone to ask, just this once, “why not?”
-
This is the beginning.
Lucifer says, “you look nice. In blue, I mean. You should wear it more often.”
There is a cave. (Early on there is always a cave, or a desert, or some inhospitable spit of land. And no, knowing it’s a joke doesn’t make it sting less.)
It is cold and they sit side by side and Lucifer says, “you look nice,” and his lips are too pink.
Much too pink. And Gabriel can’t look away. Gabriel doesn’t want to look away.
This is the beginning.
-
Michael is loyal and Lucifer is adored and Gabriel. Well, Gabriel is quiet.
This is the way it is. This is the way it has always been. This is the way it will always be.
Then Lucifer falls.
(That’s a lie. It’s Gabriel first. Gabriel is the problem. It’s always the quiet ones you have to watch for.)
-
They try it once, on Earth.
In Paris (because it seems like the proper place) there is a room with white curtains and their legs tangle and the sun crests over the horizon and the scent lingers on their skin, on the sheets.
It isn’t the same.
It’s earthly pleasure, human pleasure. A lack of sharpness, of pain, of something that only Heaven can provide and in the after they lie together and breath.
God is a vindictive bitch. It’s very important to note this before starting any prospective wars over all of creation.
-
Once, before (almost) everything, Azrael leans back, crosses her legs at the ankles and sighs.
“God. You’d think we’d be above everything being about sex.”
Michael’s outrage is a well-aged thing.
Gabriel traps a laugh behind a palm. Lucifer doesn’t say anything, but then he always could say it without words.
-
It’s too much sometimes.
The air. Earth. Heaven. The way the Archangels whisper and the others don’t seem to notice.
How ignorant, how selfish, how intolerant humanity is.
It’s too much.
-
The sky stretches on forever.
The sky stretches in every direction and you can look for a horizon but there isn’t one.
In the beginning the sky has no end and Lucifer walks with a song on his lips, one about the warmth of the wind and how easy it is to fly.
Gabriel turns back to look at him, a smile tossed back and forth between them and for a moment the future is an eternity of summer.
-
God created them. God created all of them.
God created Gabriel. And then God forgave Gabriel.
It matters.
-
“If I hadn’t cast you out, they would have destroyed you.”
Another rooftop, another night. Van Gogh wouldn’t have painted this one.
“And what a tragedy that would have been. Not to spend an eternity on the outside, not to watch you live always just a step outside my reach.”
“I never would have seen you again.”
“And what happens when He gets bored? When He stops indulging your whims?”
“That won’t-“
“You child. Forget one hundred. A hundred and another hundred and another hundred millennia of solitude, of want and you still can’t see Him for His cruelty. And you’re still plagued by faith.”
-
If the argument is faulty, is the conclusion?
God forgave Gabriel.
-
Michael is loyal. And Gabriel is loyal. And Lucifer is damned.
This is how things are.