Angels. I counted eight before their combined glory dropped me to my knees. If more appeared, I was unable to see them. I sensed no harmful intent towards me, but I had been dealing with some shit before they arrived, and those wounds were still raw. I raised a hand up to my face in a futile attempt to shield my eyes from the glare. Remembering that I’m not in the physical world, I allowed myself a chuckle as I covered my face.
Beads press into my skin.
I pull my hand back, and see the physical rosary wrapped around the palm, the index finger, and the thumb. The glare around me lessens some. The angels have moved slightly away from me. I close my hand on the rosary and look around.
The angels are clothed in white light. Some are humanoid. Some aren’t. Some have recognizable structures. Some don’t. Their skin (or surface) is emitting light in a spectrum no physical eyes can see. But I know they are there. And I know there are a lot more than eight of them.
What I don’t know is what they want from me. This time.
I grip the rosary tightly. This is not helping my paranoia and well earned distrust of angels.
«Trust me.»
I have only the timbre of the unvoice to identify her with. It triggers all the relevant memories but I am still wary. “Why?”
«Because I only want good for you.»
“Do you know how many times I have heard that before, and with how many different states of bleeding accompanying those words? No. I don’t trust you. I don’t trust those words.” I look around for any other sign of Mother Mary. But all I have is her unvoice, her rosary, and her intangible presence.
«I know.»
Someone remind me again why I am playing this long game. I seem to have taken complete leave of my senses.
«You are safe here. The rosary is the mark of my promise to you. I cover you. Let [the angels] minister to you.»
Did I mention I had been through some shit? I had been through some shee-yt. I was in no state to assault nor defend from an assault. The angels did not move from their positions any further. The glory was still blinding to look at, but I felt no hostility nor derision. Just attention.
I lowered my fists to the ground. The rest of me soon followed as my exhaustion rendered my challenge ineffective. “Okay”, I finally conceded.
I fell into a deeper sleep surrounded by guarding angels and clutching the rosary in both hands.
~~~
If everything ended there, this would be a non-event. It is no secret that I do not trust anything Christian and that my mistrust has been well justified.
But I woke up with the most sinister earworm and I can’t figure out if this is a warning or no. “Unnatural Selection” by Muse is on a constant loop, but stands out at the words “You are not the first, and you know you won’t be the last.”
Just what commotion am I supposed to counter balance? Fuck if I know.