RetributionChapter 14 Angel of Los Angeles
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Weeping Angel Of Death free porn video
Cosmos
In the beginning, Source projected the cosmos using music, arithmetic and geometry. He patterned souls after his Source spirit, mind and individuality. Angels were given the divine right to serve as co-creators of the universe. They mingled with the dust of stars and the spheres of winds. Feeling them, becoming part of them.
Earth held the position of the third dimension in the cosmos. The planet was created with its own laws, its own plan and its own evolution. It was preordained to be an expression of divine minds. And as the Angels descended as pure light upon the earth they were warned about the deep and powerful current on earth. These great spirits of light, expressed themselves through Source, empowered by their creations on Mother Earth. They imitated the beauty of the sea, filling it with swarms of living creatures. They soared as every winged bird flying above the earth in the open expanse of the heavens. The Angels became the great reservoir of silence that fills the forest. They were the blossom of flowers. Their language graced by love’s diction.
But there was a group of Angels who began experimenting with their power. Becoming more concerned with creation for the pleasure of flesh. They began to mingle with animals and made imitation of them, creating strange bodies and mixtures of animals. The stream of mind carrying out its plan for earth gradually trapped these Angels into its current. They had no choice but to flow along in the bodies they themselves had created.
Belial, an Angel of splendor, whose beauty once regarded to that of the morning star, was one of the trapped Angels who chose not to return to Source. Instead he convinced the others to wage a rebellion against Heaven. Soon, a division between the Angels of God who had retained their purity and the Angels who chose to follow Belial arose. And so the unseen war between light and darkness raged. The earth became a state of great spiritual darkness – the darkness which precedes dawn.
Carnal Desire
Down through the ages, fables of these half human half animal forms have persisted as a relic of this beginning. Centaurs, satyrs and the nephilims marked the soul’s tenancy on earth as liminal beings. The fallen sought gratification, a satisfying from the use of material things for self. There was no thought or consideration given to the hardships experienced by others. Their insatiable appetite for sexual pleasure became the catalyst for life on earth. Soon creation became a patchwork of ideas about what would be pleasant to enjoy in flesh.
Sex already existed among the animal kingdom but the fallen remained androgynous. So in order to experience sex, Belial used thought form, a creative energy with the power to form desired illusions. Among one of the most coveted objectification, was a thought form that became known as Lillith, the first woman. Sex was born from this creative power which could be used for good or evil. Used rightly the earth would be a paradise for souls choosing to experience earth in a faultless body. The trapped souls could then be freed of their cycle of rebirth into monstrous half animal forms. But they chose to give into the carnal side of man. Their path became a dwelling for the dark sweetness that they craved over and over, the daughter’s of men. They took many of man’s daughters and lay with her, and defiled her…impregnating many fair maidens. Their off-springs became known as Giants of the earth. The numerous fallen Angels were shown to have lead humans to sin through direct interaction or through providing forbidden knowledge to them.
Thereby the mysticism is consequently written, “Let love of the brethren continue. Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by this some have entertained Angels without knowing it.”
Angels on Earth
Anachel woke up in a pool of sweat. She had dreamt a recurring dream. It always began with her falling from a multitude of heavenly dimensions with three pairs of wings. Two wings that commenced from the small of her back reaching around to cover her face, another pair wrapped around her waist like a vine reaching down to cover her feet and two ominous and graceful wings poised to fly. In her dream, the thunderous sound of these two wings could be heard as far away as the earth. A peaceful darkness surrounded her as she fell from these heavenly existences.
Anachel’s wings withdrew as she became a brilliant ball of light speeding towards the earth. Her energy flowed through undulating shapes as she transmuted and inhabited the body of a human female, preparing to be born. The past, the present and the future co-mingled all at once. Everything shifted and melded like the stream that becomes the river that becomes the ocean. It was as if the universe spoke as an omnipresent expression of Source. The dream always ended as the feathery white clouds began to spatter the sky with darkness and a pair of cold, smooth marble like hands grasped at her.
The morning breeze sent a shiver down her spine. Anachel knew that the dream held great meaning but there was no time to give it anymore thought. She was running late. Anachel swung her legs out of bed. Breakfast had to be prepared for the family who had hired her to care for two little boys. They cherished her gentle homemaker abilities and couldn’t get enough of her lovely washed rind goat’s cheese she’d perfected over time.
She had been with them for many years. They treated her like family. And although Anachel was at an age where she was expected to be wed and begin a family of her own, they respected that she had taken a different path. It’s not as if she was opposed to the idea of falling in love, of loving softly and loving quietly. Loneliness had become a place to visit and not something she carried around with her.
The young maiden quickly braided her long blonde hair and twisted it into a bun. She poured cold water into the basin and washed her face. Anachel walked over to her window and opened it to assess the weather for what to wear. The early morning sky still holding hints of dawn, the ground looked wet and muddy. She would wear her sturdy brown lace boots and would need to hold up her long white dress with a belt tied around her tiny waist. She grabbed her heaviest coat and headed towards the barn to milk the goats and gather eggs.
As Anachel approached the barn she noticed a dazzling light coming from within. She wondered why the goats and hens didn’t seem to be stirring about. Without fear she opened the barn doors wide and there stood before her an Angel with arms and legs resembling polished metal and precious stones. His face was like lightning. She fell to her knees and kept her head down as if from instinct. Her spirit was filled with an almost unbearable joy. The Light filled every particle of her being, every thought and every emotion within her.
The Angel’s elocution was that of the most beautiful musical note filling her mind. Anachel received his message, “For as ye have been given a message in thy dream to take as a vision of spiritual truths.”
Images of creatures projected into her thoughts. There appeared to be a man with really long legs, dark, curly hair that wrapped around his lower body like a goat hide. There stood by his side a Minotaur and a demon with a body of a man and ominous horns. They were shown as fallen Angels who had descended from heaven to fornicate with human women. Behind them were armies of fighting men ready to bleed and die again. Anachel dreaded the image.
The Angel of Mercy imparted knowledge that these trapped sparks of divinity sought life from barren ground, suffering on in earthly fate. She had been sent to assist in the liberation of the imprisoned souls and to rejoin them to Source.
“Anachel,” the shiny and fiery Angel spoke her name. “Be warned, he is a goddess, terrifying, with hands like silk, smooth and cold. He will be the place you go to sin, to repent.”
She knew that the dazzling light had disappeared from the barn but there was a beautiful energy that lingered in swirls around the barn. Slowly she stood up, her equilibrium momentarily off balance. She made her way toward the chicken coop. Anachel was amazed to see that the hens had laid more eggs than usual. The eggs appeared to be a richer brown and some the color of olives. She gathered the goat milk and cheese wrapped in cloth from the crate and headed back to the kitchen in silence. That morning her family commented on how sweet and filling the morning meal had been.
All day her thoughts were filled with the visit from the Angel. She was still in awe of his shiny appearance, the fiery face, and his melodic words. She thought of her dream, the vision and his words as she gathered fruits and nuts. There were so many unanswered questions unresolved in her heart.
Angel of Death
There are untold myriads of Angels who have been created. Azrael, the Angel of Death is beautiful. He was created with a perfect face, beautiful eyes, and a beautiful body. His hair is fiery red and his wings are black. He is the only Angel with black wings. Azrael was given a voice with the power to hypnotize in order to ease a souls transition from physical form into spirit. The Angel of Death could be found roaming through the country-side, towns and cities far reaching every corner of the earth. His journey spanned across thousands of years.
Azrael’s travels were long and arduous – man’s path barely marked. Yet he envied the man walking solemnly through the dessert with the sun beating down on his face. He craved to know thirst, to feel joy and sorrow. How often he wondered what it felt like to mourn the loss of a loved one. To know what it feels like to have everything the dying held to be life slipping away.
Azrael wanted to know love. He wanted to have her awoken at dawn by his memory. He wanted to have her leaf through her empty house searching for a trace of his scent on her skin. He had swallowed a thousand different names, for great was the number of souls he collected from the earth, yet none beheld the taste of his own. An Angel does not experience human emotions. But this didn’t stop Azrael from wanting to feel them. As the centuries past, there was a certain unrest growing within him wild and reckless.
The Angel of Death carried a very large and ancient leather book tucked underneath his black wings. He was said to be forever writing in this book and forever erasing what he wrote. What he wrote was the birth of man, what he erased was the name of man at death. The fallen would stop at nothing to one day have possession of the book that Azrael guarded. The book held the Akashic Records. These records are said to contain the information of every being in the cosmos. They enclose the energetic prints of every soul through its lifetimes. The Akashic Records are continually updated, with each new thought, word or action that every entity makes. They hold an ever changing array of possible futures.
The fallen drooled, hissed and hovered around the immense Angel of Death, coveting the powerful book he carried beneath his black wings. The son’s of Belial knowing that they could not battle an Angel and win wooed the beautiful Azrael with words about ruling his own eternal kingdom. It was to no avail. But Belial demanded that the fallen find the Angels weakness. And as devoted son’s they vowed to stalk the Angel of Death from the moment the shades of light became dark until the shadows turned back into sunlight.
Their devotion remunerated for they uncovered the bearer of the Akashic Records weakness, hidden deep below layers of thought. Azrael’s weakness was for the beautiful fair maiden’s. He coveted the thought of sexual pleasure as felt by the flesh. And the fallen took note.
Darkness fell over the country-side, the wind blew hard and howling creatures of the night became a thick fog that crept over the window of a fair maiden. She had been the one Azrael had desired in his thoughts. A dark form slowing crept up the maiden’s body, ravishing her breasts while she slept. She moaned, her body aroused, a blush swept over her cheeks as the one of the fallen hovered between her legs.
“I know your name.” spewed the fallen. “Shall I claim you?”
Her moans grew louder, the maiden’s body twisting in pleasure, “Yes!”
Azrael shivered in horror as the dark energy took form of a beastly half animal- half man who bore into the fair maiden. Her back arched her breasts bare and her body aching with need, she screamed at penetration but then moaned a primal moan of both pleasure and pain.
The Angel of Death wept for the maiden, she had been a virgin and no man would ever declare her as his wife after being taken by the beastly man. Her current existence had been altered because of his desires. Azrael knew he had to act before the dark sky gave itself over to the impending sunrise. In the light, where all truth is revealed, the people of town would know that the fair maiden had been touched by darkness. So he lured the beautiful maiden with his voice into the grave-yard, past the withered gates beyond the gravestones of the forgotten. Hypnotized she followed him through the echo mist.
The Angel of Death took the ancient book from underneath his wing and erased the fair maiden’s name. Azrael used his power of co- creator to turn her into an Angel made of smooth white marble. For all eternity she would exist chiseled to perfection with every strand of hair defined and every drape and fold of her dress carved to exactness. The maiden’s suitors would marvel at the precision in the bows of her lips and the haunted expression in her eyes. Her wings spread open. Her fate sealed.
The fallen diligent in their devotion and service to Belial, assured that each maiden put forth in Azraels path was more beautiful than the next. But Azreal’s artistry grew more apparent with each marble Angel. The marble became more obedient to his mind, existing between shadow and truth and the beauty within. His marble Angel’s would not reflect a dead soul touched by darkness. The maidens would instead be bound by love, their marble fingers reaching out gently to those who beheld her. The Angel of Death took great pride in his work making the time to visit all of his creations.
To the marble Angel who had been coveted by her first winter, Azrael unburied her from the leaves and dirt. He traced the delicate curves of her marble wings while admiring his workmanship. The graveyard vines that had risen over her feet had grown tiny white flowers that lived through the dead of winter when she could not. Never would she become a pile of bones touched to become dust. She would live eternal, lovely and sad, graceful and polished.
To the youngest marble Angel he carved her close to the cement cross baring the name of an officer of war, to be bound together by erosion and moss. To the most desirable marble Angel he scribed her name upon a wing, Hetheria. Her porcelain skin, her red and wavy hair flowing down the small curve of her back, she had been lovely. When he closed his eyes he could still hear her musical laughter. He could see the smile escaping from her ruby lips. If only he could smell the hint of night blooming flowers and vanilla scent of her skin once more. Azrael pondered on how soft he had become. He had never been this sensitive; perhaps he had picked it up from the flowers.
He felt a disquietude in his flanks that needed satisfying, an ache so overwhelming. He was growing weak. Azrael wept, knowing that the fallen in their devotion to Belial would follow him through all eternities. The cemeteries of the earth would then continue to be graced by a multitude of marble Angel’s. But the fallen grew angry and frustrated with Azrael’s tenacity. Until the one in half man half goat form had a thought that hit the earth like lightening and thunder. They would create an illusion, a beauty that would fulfill his deepest desire.
Lillith, the first woman, stood before the Angel of Death in a sheer white dress flowing behind her with the curves of her delicate body showing. Her breasts heaving with desire making Azrael’s resolve weaker. The beauty’s lips were blood red and her eyes were the color of the desert sands. This fair maiden possessed the power to hypnotize with all of her womanly aspects from her porcelain skin, to the long sheath of hair flowing along with her dress. In her every movement, a haunting and ethereal tapestry of atmospheric music played.
He hungered for her breast, her nipples slipping through his fingers. She sank deeper and deeper into his mouth. Her tongue became an instrument of debauchery as she kissed him over and over angling her mouth one way and than another, exploring every fit. Lillith was salivating around his erection, looking up at the beautiful Angel, never breaking eye contact. His throat closes, he felt it. Azrael was given the sensation of pleasure as a mortal man rupturing her flesh. He inserted his raised penis into her mouth and between her breasts and over her hardened nipples…sperm spraying them.
His penis was against her ass awake, aware, and sensitive to every movement. Back and forth she stroked it, slowly opening her legs for him. He slipped his hands along her body searching for his sexual quest, thinking only of the moment he would take her like the beasts that had claimed the maidens. Every move was arousing beyond the expected. He pushed her body up. His penis went into her long and narrow. His breathing hastened with each blow that brought about more vigor and lust. He made her dance circles around his penis. He took her violently, panting and twisting until his body contracted from his orgasms.
While the Angel of Death was enthralled by passion, the fallen took opportune to reach beneath his wings for the ancient book. And as they did, Azreal’s wings spread open wide and strong towards the sky. Upon his wings was hundreds of blinking tiny eyes never before seen by any being. The fallen became so startled that the illusion of Lillith dropped, awakening the Angel of Death from his trance of passion. Azrael sought refuge in the sky but heaven was hidden from him behind a veil of grey. He now thought with a mind of a man, obsessing about the life he would lead, the life he desired, the love he would seek. He had become a luminal being with a body of an Angel and a tortured mind of a man. It was the worst kind of punishment.
For the Love of an Angel
The family dog barked and barked trying to chase away the birds from the crops that had been sown.
“Oh Rufus, silly dog, the birds must eat too.” Anachel giggled.
She was playing with a freshly laundered white sheet, holding it high above her head, letting it flow freely with the rhythm of the wind. The sun caressed her golden locks and applied a rose blush to her cheeks.
Azrael’s gaze lingered across Anachel’s fine bosoms. Her beauty both struck and startled him. The Angel of Death stood before her a fierce being with black wings. He realized, touching his own face, feeling the visual equivalent of a countenance so vastly different from that of a man that he might frighten her. But it was not fear she felt.
“Because I could not stop for death, he kindly stopped for me?” She felt a strange stirring in her heart as she looked upon the Angel of Death. Her eyes flickered with shades of ocean blue.
Azrael gaped at their beauty and promise. Her innocence, such a beautiful thing to behold, was awake.
“I am not invisible to you?” He answered her.
“No more than I am to you.” She smiled at him. “Come, gather me into your eternal embrace.”
Anachel welcomed death as her aggressor. She was going to love him. It was the profession of his fingers she wanted floating over her. The domestic fair maiden wrapped herself around the Angel of Death. She could feel his utter joy at her embrace, never wanting it to end. The flowers sang. The birds danced and the wind swirled the sky in praise.
Azrael was heart broken because he held her in love upon sight and it meant that she would become his greatest work of art.
“Go ahead and forget me,” he retreated back into the sky with the taste of man’s bitter defiance upon his lips.
“Azrael!” she cried out searching for the missing perfume in his name.
The Angel of Death wept, tears dripping down naked, freezing his desire. Her scent upon his wings, refusing to separate from what it clings to like an aroma held captive by a window that was never opened. Her pheromone had become a part of him.
Battle among the Angels
“Anachel’s arms will warm you; her skin will sizzle with desire.” The fallen basked in the deepness of Azrael’s love for the maiden.
They would use this weapon against him, an exchange of sort; they would not covet the maiden if he willingly handed over the book. But as he struck a deal with the fallen the pages of Akashic Records became blank. In an instant the blue sky was spattered in darkness and the sun recoiled back into the earth. The ancient book was useless to Belial and so was Azrael who was cast into the dark corners of the earth.
Like a tar of black smoke the fallen crept up Anachel’s window. But this time they could not penetrate it. They circled above her house, dove hard into the door but it remained firm. Angered yet undeterred they thrashed about outside counting on the maiden to step out to inquire of their commotion. She stood before them, sealed in a purity of light the fallen could not see. The Angel of Mercy stood by her side and the Warring Angels, with their bodies like chrysolite and faces like lightening were on alert. But the darkness would not conceal the Warring Angels’ eyes that were like that of torches, nor their arms and legs that gleamed of burnished bronze.
The fallen felt a trembling fear. But let it be known that powerful creatures aren’t bound by the laws of physics. They are not limited to appearing in just one kind of physical form. So the son’s of Belial chose to appear as a maiden in need of aid. But upon seeing the shadow of the maiden in distress, Anachel could see beyond the illusion, she saw their monstrous appearance.
Anachel thought about the monuments of carved demonic Angels that were created to frighten the living with the idea of death. But it was the thought of eternal peace that replaced damnation; she would not be repelled by such darkness.
“I have lingered past the shadows.” She was remembering her dream, comprehending the spiritual truth hidden in its parables. “And I say to you, without darkness there is no light.”
Their hooves thrashed against Anachel, hissing with disgust at her lack of fear. “Keep your light. The devil takes hold for nothing satisfies more than that of your soul.”
Anachel looked upon the fallen in their true form, bringing them into a state of ecstasy with her love, faith and understanding. The Angel of Mercy embraced the fallen in compassion until the lost sparks of divinity appeared as messengers with wings, two or three or four pairs. They entered into the realm of God-Spirit transformation.
The mystery concerned with freeing the souls trapped on earth became a fuller revelation at large of the mysteries themselves. And the earth renewed humanity’s privilege to discover the potential realms of human existence. It was a moment of rejoice for the war that raged between light and darkness. But often where a light appears for one it leaves another in obscurity. The earth roared and shook violently and Belial emerged, deceptively beautiful in appearance.
“Anachel, she who will never be thrust into flesh again,” he spoke, his voice soft but full of treachery, recklessness and lies. “Behold, the one you love, is but a statue of cold marble. He deprived me of my claim as Master of the Earth. And now, the Angel of Death has no master to answer. Shame, for lust and sexual pleasure is merely self preservation and power.”
“Beware, Crown Prince of the earth, for thou givest him naught; may he cry unto the Cosmos against thee, and it be sin unto thee.”
Anachel was afraid that Belial had succeeded in poisoning Azrael’s thoughts. It would be his greatest conquest to gain an Angel who was not necessarily inclined to be a sinner.
The sky became red like the color of passion and white of purity as the Warring Angels traveled like the wind to the earth. Their shield of gold and sword of silver these Angels beheld the empire of light reserved for the sanctified. The Warring Angels struck Belial down bounding him to exist only within the dark shadows of the earth. But as the Dark Prince was outcast an ominous laughter rippled across the earth.
“The earth is my playground. Come children of the shadows and play freely for the ground is covered in darkness.”
Once considered among the most sanctified of Angels, Belial was given the earth to rein over for two thousand years and his time was nearly up. He had served his purpose as a devoted servant to the ultimate Prince of Darkness. He had brought about wickedness and guilt to his dominion. But there were many more souls who walked the earth neither in light or dark that Belial desired. He would wait knowing that they would come to him freely, wanting, always wanting more.
Marble Angels Intertwined
The sun reappeared and the feathery white clouds graced the blue sky once more. The Warring Angels returned Anachel back into the Angel of Grace. Her three pairs of wings were given a ray of divine light with the power to break from the occult dusk of her earthly life. But the Angel of Death chose not to be restored to his former grace. Azrael remained immortalized in smooth cold white marble. He was given a single tear that would run down his beautiful face for eternity. It was a symbol of how he was caught in a moment between conscious choice and action. His wings no longer black spread out strong into the sky while his marble body conveyed one of holding another in his arms. Belial’s humor shun in the way he created Azrael’s eyes to gaze upon another in perpetuity while his lips remained poised to be touched by a maiden’s lips.
The Angel of Grace gazed up at Azrael whose beauty she coveted even in marble form. A single black tear escaped his smooth white marble eye.
“Weep my Angel of Death yet not from sorrow but from joy.”
The Angel of Mercy's warning had avail. Azrael would be her place to sin and to repent. She wrapped four wings around her like a dress of feathers and tucked herself into Azrael’s awaiting arms. Her arms outstretched to caress his crown of curls. Her body position to give itself to him. Her eyes stared into his marble gaze. His cold smooth hand rested upon her face. The Angel of Grace reached her lips up to his. She would love him.
Azrael had been right; she had turned out to be his greatest work of art.
In the beginning, Source projected the cosmos using music, arithmetic and geometry. He patterned souls after his Source spirit, mind and individuality. Angels were given the divine right to serve as co-creators of the universe. They mingled with the dust of stars and the spheres of winds. Feeling them, becoming part of them.
Earth held the position of the third dimension in the cosmos. The planet was created with its own laws, its own plan and its own evolution. It was preordained to be an expression of divine minds. And as the Angels descended as pure light upon the earth they were warned about the deep and powerful current on earth. These great spirits of light, expressed themselves through Source, empowered by their creations on Mother Earth. They imitated the beauty of the sea, filling it with swarms of living creatures. They soared as every winged bird flying above the earth in the open expanse of the heavens. The Angels became the great reservoir of silence that fills the forest. They were the blossom of flowers. Their language graced by love’s diction.
But there was a group of Angels who began experimenting with their power. Becoming more concerned with creation for the pleasure of flesh. They began to mingle with animals and made imitation of them, creating strange bodies and mixtures of animals. The stream of mind carrying out its plan for earth gradually trapped these Angels into its current. They had no choice but to flow along in the bodies they themselves had created.
Belial, an Angel of splendor, whose beauty once regarded to that of the morning star, was one of the trapped Angels who chose not to return to Source. Instead he convinced the others to wage a rebellion against Heaven. Soon, a division between the Angels of God who had retained their purity and the Angels who chose to follow Belial arose. And so the unseen war between light and darkness raged. The earth became a state of great spiritual darkness – the darkness which precedes dawn.
Carnal Desire
Down through the ages, fables of these half human half animal forms have persisted as a relic of this beginning. Centaurs, satyrs and the nephilims marked the soul’s tenancy on earth as liminal beings. The fallen sought gratification, a satisfying from the use of material things for self. There was no thought or consideration given to the hardships experienced by others. Their insatiable appetite for sexual pleasure became the catalyst for life on earth. Soon creation became a patchwork of ideas about what would be pleasant to enjoy in flesh.
Sex already existed among the animal kingdom but the fallen remained androgynous. So in order to experience sex, Belial used thought form, a creative energy with the power to form desired illusions. Among one of the most coveted objectification, was a thought form that became known as Lillith, the first woman. Sex was born from this creative power which could be used for good or evil. Used rightly the earth would be a paradise for souls choosing to experience earth in a faultless body. The trapped souls could then be freed of their cycle of rebirth into monstrous half animal forms. But they chose to give into the carnal side of man. Their path became a dwelling for the dark sweetness that they craved over and over, the daughter’s of men. They took many of man’s daughters and lay with her, and defiled her…impregnating many fair maidens. Their off-springs became known as Giants of the earth. The numerous fallen Angels were shown to have lead humans to sin through direct interaction or through providing forbidden knowledge to them.
Thereby the mysticism is consequently written, “Let love of the brethren continue. Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by this some have entertained Angels without knowing it.”
Angels on Earth
Anachel woke up in a pool of sweat. She had dreamt a recurring dream. It always began with her falling from a multitude of heavenly dimensions with three pairs of wings. Two wings that commenced from the small of her back reaching around to cover her face, another pair wrapped around her waist like a vine reaching down to cover her feet and two ominous and graceful wings poised to fly. In her dream, the thunderous sound of these two wings could be heard as far away as the earth. A peaceful darkness surrounded her as she fell from these heavenly existences.
Anachel’s wings withdrew as she became a brilliant ball of light speeding towards the earth. Her energy flowed through undulating shapes as she transmuted and inhabited the body of a human female, preparing to be born. The past, the present and the future co-mingled all at once. Everything shifted and melded like the stream that becomes the river that becomes the ocean. It was as if the universe spoke as an omnipresent expression of Source. The dream always ended as the feathery white clouds began to spatter the sky with darkness and a pair of cold, smooth marble like hands grasped at her.
The morning breeze sent a shiver down her spine. Anachel knew that the dream held great meaning but there was no time to give it anymore thought. She was running late. Anachel swung her legs out of bed. Breakfast had to be prepared for the family who had hired her to care for two little boys. They cherished her gentle homemaker abilities and couldn’t get enough of her lovely washed rind goat’s cheese she’d perfected over time.
She had been with them for many years. They treated her like family. And although Anachel was at an age where she was expected to be wed and begin a family of her own, they respected that she had taken a different path. It’s not as if she was opposed to the idea of falling in love, of loving softly and loving quietly. Loneliness had become a place to visit and not something she carried around with her.
The young maiden quickly braided her long blonde hair and twisted it into a bun. She poured cold water into the basin and washed her face. Anachel walked over to her window and opened it to assess the weather for what to wear. The early morning sky still holding hints of dawn, the ground looked wet and muddy. She would wear her sturdy brown lace boots and would need to hold up her long white dress with a belt tied around her tiny waist. She grabbed her heaviest coat and headed towards the barn to milk the goats and gather eggs.
As Anachel approached the barn she noticed a dazzling light coming from within. She wondered why the goats and hens didn’t seem to be stirring about. Without fear she opened the barn doors wide and there stood before her an Angel with arms and legs resembling polished metal and precious stones. His face was like lightning. She fell to her knees and kept her head down as if from instinct. Her spirit was filled with an almost unbearable joy. The Light filled every particle of her being, every thought and every emotion within her.
The Angel’s elocution was that of the most beautiful musical note filling her mind. Anachel received his message, “For as ye have been given a message in thy dream to take as a vision of spiritual truths.”
Images of creatures projected into her thoughts. There appeared to be a man with really long legs, dark, curly hair that wrapped around his lower body like a goat hide. There stood by his side a Minotaur and a demon with a body of a man and ominous horns. They were shown as fallen Angels who had descended from heaven to fornicate with human women. Behind them were armies of fighting men ready to bleed and die again. Anachel dreaded the image.
The Angel of Mercy imparted knowledge that these trapped sparks of divinity sought life from barren ground, suffering on in earthly fate. She had been sent to assist in the liberation of the imprisoned souls and to rejoin them to Source.
“Anachel,” the shiny and fiery Angel spoke her name. “Be warned, he is a goddess, terrifying, with hands like silk, smooth and cold. He will be the place you go to sin, to repent.”
She knew that the dazzling light had disappeared from the barn but there was a beautiful energy that lingered in swirls around the barn. Slowly she stood up, her equilibrium momentarily off balance. She made her way toward the chicken coop. Anachel was amazed to see that the hens had laid more eggs than usual. The eggs appeared to be a richer brown and some the color of olives. She gathered the goat milk and cheese wrapped in cloth from the crate and headed back to the kitchen in silence. That morning her family commented on how sweet and filling the morning meal had been.
All day her thoughts were filled with the visit from the Angel. She was still in awe of his shiny appearance, the fiery face, and his melodic words. She thought of her dream, the vision and his words as she gathered fruits and nuts. There were so many unanswered questions unresolved in her heart.
Angel of Death
There are untold myriads of Angels who have been created. Azrael, the Angel of Death is beautiful. He was created with a perfect face, beautiful eyes, and a beautiful body. His hair is fiery red and his wings are black. He is the only Angel with black wings. Azrael was given a voice with the power to hypnotize in order to ease a souls transition from physical form into spirit. The Angel of Death could be found roaming through the country-side, towns and cities far reaching every corner of the earth. His journey spanned across thousands of years.
Azrael’s travels were long and arduous – man’s path barely marked. Yet he envied the man walking solemnly through the dessert with the sun beating down on his face. He craved to know thirst, to feel joy and sorrow. How often he wondered what it felt like to mourn the loss of a loved one. To know what it feels like to have everything the dying held to be life slipping away.
Azrael wanted to know love. He wanted to have her awoken at dawn by his memory. He wanted to have her leaf through her empty house searching for a trace of his scent on her skin. He had swallowed a thousand different names, for great was the number of souls he collected from the earth, yet none beheld the taste of his own. An Angel does not experience human emotions. But this didn’t stop Azrael from wanting to feel them. As the centuries past, there was a certain unrest growing within him wild and reckless.
The Angel of Death carried a very large and ancient leather book tucked underneath his black wings. He was said to be forever writing in this book and forever erasing what he wrote. What he wrote was the birth of man, what he erased was the name of man at death. The fallen would stop at nothing to one day have possession of the book that Azrael guarded. The book held the Akashic Records. These records are said to contain the information of every being in the cosmos. They enclose the energetic prints of every soul through its lifetimes. The Akashic Records are continually updated, with each new thought, word or action that every entity makes. They hold an ever changing array of possible futures.
The fallen drooled, hissed and hovered around the immense Angel of Death, coveting the powerful book he carried beneath his black wings. The son’s of Belial knowing that they could not battle an Angel and win wooed the beautiful Azrael with words about ruling his own eternal kingdom. It was to no avail. But Belial demanded that the fallen find the Angels weakness. And as devoted son’s they vowed to stalk the Angel of Death from the moment the shades of light became dark until the shadows turned back into sunlight.
Their devotion remunerated for they uncovered the bearer of the Akashic Records weakness, hidden deep below layers of thought. Azrael’s weakness was for the beautiful fair maiden’s. He coveted the thought of sexual pleasure as felt by the flesh. And the fallen took note.
Darkness fell over the country-side, the wind blew hard and howling creatures of the night became a thick fog that crept over the window of a fair maiden. She had been the one Azrael had desired in his thoughts. A dark form slowing crept up the maiden’s body, ravishing her breasts while she slept. She moaned, her body aroused, a blush swept over her cheeks as the one of the fallen hovered between her legs.
“I know your name.” spewed the fallen. “Shall I claim you?”
Her moans grew louder, the maiden’s body twisting in pleasure, “Yes!”
Azrael shivered in horror as the dark energy took form of a beastly half animal- half man who bore into the fair maiden. Her back arched her breasts bare and her body aching with need, she screamed at penetration but then moaned a primal moan of both pleasure and pain.
The Angel of Death wept for the maiden, she had been a virgin and no man would ever declare her as his wife after being taken by the beastly man. Her current existence had been altered because of his desires. Azrael knew he had to act before the dark sky gave itself over to the impending sunrise. In the light, where all truth is revealed, the people of town would know that the fair maiden had been touched by darkness. So he lured the beautiful maiden with his voice into the grave-yard, past the withered gates beyond the gravestones of the forgotten. Hypnotized she followed him through the echo mist.
The Angel of Death took the ancient book from underneath his wing and erased the fair maiden’s name. Azrael used his power of co- creator to turn her into an Angel made of smooth white marble. For all eternity she would exist chiseled to perfection with every strand of hair defined and every drape and fold of her dress carved to exactness. The maiden’s suitors would marvel at the precision in the bows of her lips and the haunted expression in her eyes. Her wings spread open. Her fate sealed.
The fallen diligent in their devotion and service to Belial, assured that each maiden put forth in Azraels path was more beautiful than the next. But Azreal’s artistry grew more apparent with each marble Angel. The marble became more obedient to his mind, existing between shadow and truth and the beauty within. His marble Angel’s would not reflect a dead soul touched by darkness. The maidens would instead be bound by love, their marble fingers reaching out gently to those who beheld her. The Angel of Death took great pride in his work making the time to visit all of his creations.
To the marble Angel who had been coveted by her first winter, Azrael unburied her from the leaves and dirt. He traced the delicate curves of her marble wings while admiring his workmanship. The graveyard vines that had risen over her feet had grown tiny white flowers that lived through the dead of winter when she could not. Never would she become a pile of bones touched to become dust. She would live eternal, lovely and sad, graceful and polished.
To the youngest marble Angel he carved her close to the cement cross baring the name of an officer of war, to be bound together by erosion and moss. To the most desirable marble Angel he scribed her name upon a wing, Hetheria. Her porcelain skin, her red and wavy hair flowing down the small curve of her back, she had been lovely. When he closed his eyes he could still hear her musical laughter. He could see the smile escaping from her ruby lips. If only he could smell the hint of night blooming flowers and vanilla scent of her skin once more. Azrael pondered on how soft he had become. He had never been this sensitive; perhaps he had picked it up from the flowers.
He felt a disquietude in his flanks that needed satisfying, an ache so overwhelming. He was growing weak. Azrael wept, knowing that the fallen in their devotion to Belial would follow him through all eternities. The cemeteries of the earth would then continue to be graced by a multitude of marble Angel’s. But the fallen grew angry and frustrated with Azrael’s tenacity. Until the one in half man half goat form had a thought that hit the earth like lightening and thunder. They would create an illusion, a beauty that would fulfill his deepest desire.
Lillith, the first woman, stood before the Angel of Death in a sheer white dress flowing behind her with the curves of her delicate body showing. Her breasts heaving with desire making Azrael’s resolve weaker. The beauty’s lips were blood red and her eyes were the color of the desert sands. This fair maiden possessed the power to hypnotize with all of her womanly aspects from her porcelain skin, to the long sheath of hair flowing along with her dress. In her every movement, a haunting and ethereal tapestry of atmospheric music played.
He hungered for her breast, her nipples slipping through his fingers. She sank deeper and deeper into his mouth. Her tongue became an instrument of debauchery as she kissed him over and over angling her mouth one way and than another, exploring every fit. Lillith was salivating around his erection, looking up at the beautiful Angel, never breaking eye contact. His throat closes, he felt it. Azrael was given the sensation of pleasure as a mortal man rupturing her flesh. He inserted his raised penis into her mouth and between her breasts and over her hardened nipples…sperm spraying them.
His penis was against her ass awake, aware, and sensitive to every movement. Back and forth she stroked it, slowly opening her legs for him. He slipped his hands along her body searching for his sexual quest, thinking only of the moment he would take her like the beasts that had claimed the maidens. Every move was arousing beyond the expected. He pushed her body up. His penis went into her long and narrow. His breathing hastened with each blow that brought about more vigor and lust. He made her dance circles around his penis. He took her violently, panting and twisting until his body contracted from his orgasms.
While the Angel of Death was enthralled by passion, the fallen took opportune to reach beneath his wings for the ancient book. And as they did, Azreal’s wings spread open wide and strong towards the sky. Upon his wings was hundreds of blinking tiny eyes never before seen by any being. The fallen became so startled that the illusion of Lillith dropped, awakening the Angel of Death from his trance of passion. Azrael sought refuge in the sky but heaven was hidden from him behind a veil of grey. He now thought with a mind of a man, obsessing about the life he would lead, the life he desired, the love he would seek. He had become a luminal being with a body of an Angel and a tortured mind of a man. It was the worst kind of punishment.
For the Love of an Angel
The family dog barked and barked trying to chase away the birds from the crops that had been sown.
“Oh Rufus, silly dog, the birds must eat too.” Anachel giggled.
She was playing with a freshly laundered white sheet, holding it high above her head, letting it flow freely with the rhythm of the wind. The sun caressed her golden locks and applied a rose blush to her cheeks.
Azrael’s gaze lingered across Anachel’s fine bosoms. Her beauty both struck and startled him. The Angel of Death stood before her a fierce being with black wings. He realized, touching his own face, feeling the visual equivalent of a countenance so vastly different from that of a man that he might frighten her. But it was not fear she felt.
“Because I could not stop for death, he kindly stopped for me?” She felt a strange stirring in her heart as she looked upon the Angel of Death. Her eyes flickered with shades of ocean blue.
Azrael gaped at their beauty and promise. Her innocence, such a beautiful thing to behold, was awake.
“I am not invisible to you?” He answered her.
“No more than I am to you.” She smiled at him. “Come, gather me into your eternal embrace.”
Anachel welcomed death as her aggressor. She was going to love him. It was the profession of his fingers she wanted floating over her. The domestic fair maiden wrapped herself around the Angel of Death. She could feel his utter joy at her embrace, never wanting it to end. The flowers sang. The birds danced and the wind swirled the sky in praise.
Azrael was heart broken because he held her in love upon sight and it meant that she would become his greatest work of art.
“Go ahead and forget me,” he retreated back into the sky with the taste of man’s bitter defiance upon his lips.
“Azrael!” she cried out searching for the missing perfume in his name.
The Angel of Death wept, tears dripping down naked, freezing his desire. Her scent upon his wings, refusing to separate from what it clings to like an aroma held captive by a window that was never opened. Her pheromone had become a part of him.
Battle among the Angels
“Anachel’s arms will warm you; her skin will sizzle with desire.” The fallen basked in the deepness of Azrael’s love for the maiden.
They would use this weapon against him, an exchange of sort; they would not covet the maiden if he willingly handed over the book. But as he struck a deal with the fallen the pages of Akashic Records became blank. In an instant the blue sky was spattered in darkness and the sun recoiled back into the earth. The ancient book was useless to Belial and so was Azrael who was cast into the dark corners of the earth.
Like a tar of black smoke the fallen crept up Anachel’s window. But this time they could not penetrate it. They circled above her house, dove hard into the door but it remained firm. Angered yet undeterred they thrashed about outside counting on the maiden to step out to inquire of their commotion. She stood before them, sealed in a purity of light the fallen could not see. The Angel of Mercy stood by her side and the Warring Angels, with their bodies like chrysolite and faces like lightening were on alert. But the darkness would not conceal the Warring Angels’ eyes that were like that of torches, nor their arms and legs that gleamed of burnished bronze.
The fallen felt a trembling fear. But let it be known that powerful creatures aren’t bound by the laws of physics. They are not limited to appearing in just one kind of physical form. So the son’s of Belial chose to appear as a maiden in need of aid. But upon seeing the shadow of the maiden in distress, Anachel could see beyond the illusion, she saw their monstrous appearance.
Anachel thought about the monuments of carved demonic Angels that were created to frighten the living with the idea of death. But it was the thought of eternal peace that replaced damnation; she would not be repelled by such darkness.
“I have lingered past the shadows.” She was remembering her dream, comprehending the spiritual truth hidden in its parables. “And I say to you, without darkness there is no light.”
Their hooves thrashed against Anachel, hissing with disgust at her lack of fear. “Keep your light. The devil takes hold for nothing satisfies more than that of your soul.”
Anachel looked upon the fallen in their true form, bringing them into a state of ecstasy with her love, faith and understanding. The Angel of Mercy embraced the fallen in compassion until the lost sparks of divinity appeared as messengers with wings, two or three or four pairs. They entered into the realm of God-Spirit transformation.
The mystery concerned with freeing the souls trapped on earth became a fuller revelation at large of the mysteries themselves. And the earth renewed humanity’s privilege to discover the potential realms of human existence. It was a moment of rejoice for the war that raged between light and darkness. But often where a light appears for one it leaves another in obscurity. The earth roared and shook violently and Belial emerged, deceptively beautiful in appearance.
“Anachel, she who will never be thrust into flesh again,” he spoke, his voice soft but full of treachery, recklessness and lies. “Behold, the one you love, is but a statue of cold marble. He deprived me of my claim as Master of the Earth. And now, the Angel of Death has no master to answer. Shame, for lust and sexual pleasure is merely self preservation and power.”
“Beware, Crown Prince of the earth, for thou givest him naught; may he cry unto the Cosmos against thee, and it be sin unto thee.”
Anachel was afraid that Belial had succeeded in poisoning Azrael’s thoughts. It would be his greatest conquest to gain an Angel who was not necessarily inclined to be a sinner.
The sky became red like the color of passion and white of purity as the Warring Angels traveled like the wind to the earth. Their shield of gold and sword of silver these Angels beheld the empire of light reserved for the sanctified. The Warring Angels struck Belial down bounding him to exist only within the dark shadows of the earth. But as the Dark Prince was outcast an ominous laughter rippled across the earth.
“The earth is my playground. Come children of the shadows and play freely for the ground is covered in darkness.”
Once considered among the most sanctified of Angels, Belial was given the earth to rein over for two thousand years and his time was nearly up. He had served his purpose as a devoted servant to the ultimate Prince of Darkness. He had brought about wickedness and guilt to his dominion. But there were many more souls who walked the earth neither in light or dark that Belial desired. He would wait knowing that they would come to him freely, wanting, always wanting more.
Marble Angels Intertwined
The sun reappeared and the feathery white clouds graced the blue sky once more. The Warring Angels returned Anachel back into the Angel of Grace. Her three pairs of wings were given a ray of divine light with the power to break from the occult dusk of her earthly life. But the Angel of Death chose not to be restored to his former grace. Azrael remained immortalized in smooth cold white marble. He was given a single tear that would run down his beautiful face for eternity. It was a symbol of how he was caught in a moment between conscious choice and action. His wings no longer black spread out strong into the sky while his marble body conveyed one of holding another in his arms. Belial’s humor shun in the way he created Azrael’s eyes to gaze upon another in perpetuity while his lips remained poised to be touched by a maiden’s lips.
The Angel of Grace gazed up at Azrael whose beauty she coveted even in marble form. A single black tear escaped his smooth white marble eye.
“Weep my Angel of Death yet not from sorrow but from joy.”
The Angel of Mercy's warning had avail. Azrael would be her place to sin and to repent. She wrapped four wings around her like a dress of feathers and tucked herself into Azrael’s awaiting arms. Her arms outstretched to caress his crown of curls. Her body position to give itself to him. Her eyes stared into his marble gaze. His cold smooth hand rested upon her face. The Angel of Grace reached her lips up to his. She would love him.
Azrael had been right; she had turned out to be his greatest work of art.
Hortense
- 07.01.2021
- 35
- 0
- Category:
- Fantasy & Sci-Fi
