The Walk

A black sphere hovers about  a foot above the carpet.  It is quieter than silent, darker than black, and thinner than air.  People might walk through it, talk through it, but never focus on it, never know where to seek it.  Those who do seek it, to understand it, discover only bondage and misery.  I pity them. This sphere is an inch, a yard across, now a mile across, whatever suits  it best at the moment.

I hate it.  I literally hate nothing at all, that which was created and that which is yet to be. But this… entity. This non-life. This death angel. I seethe with anger.

I have discovered it in my client’s living room. My client cannot see it, but he knows it is there. He is a single man of 22, and he is happy. Even though he knows this foul entity prowls the world like a roaring lion, looking for someone to devour, he is safe. He knows it to the marrow in his bones. I protect him, shelter him, for I can do no other. It is my charge, my purpose.

The sphere spins off a shadow, and another. They dart away. The sphere is gone; it has prowled away to the territory of another, and I need not concern myself with the sphere. Its fate has already been sealed, though I know not why his dominion persists for a time in this realm. I am  focused. My client is surely in danger, and my quarries are now the shadowy forms that lurk and skulk about my land.  I hunt.

My senses are keen, and I know the craft of my cunning quarry well.

My client knows of me, though I admit he rarely spares me a thought. I haven’t yet met him, but I anticipate the joy and satisfaction I will feel  when I finally shake his hand, for he waits to acquire an inheritance of impossible value. We share the same father but I am still a stranger to him. I am at peace with this, because my father has many children. He has invited them all to run home, though many times my client has thought to desert his birthright and make his own way. My father’s pull is strong, and I am vigilant!  My client knows his father’s voice, and follows him. What father would have his children snatched from his hand by such a thing as death?

Today, my client runs home, and my father runs to meet him. You should see the banquet he has prepared, and the mansion he has built for just this purpose.

I’m really not that great, honestly. I am indeed perfect at what I do: you are correct. I’m very capable at my job, but I have had excellent training, and I do only what I was born to do. My father is also my employer, and as King, he doesn’t often  muck it up in my line of work. But oh, when he does… well, let’s just say he could shake up Heaven and Earth. And he has.  I would say he puts me to shame, but why feel shame at the greatness of my King? Why not rejoice at the honor of serving such a mighty warrior-king?

I spy some of the handiwork of my quarry. Its tricks don’t fool me, for I have been a protector  for as long as it has been  a conniving deceiver and trickster. A stone, out of place? My client approaches, so I must  act. I gently whisper, he looks at his watch to ensure he is not late for his weekly appointment with my father. In doing so, he spots the stone in the driveway. He kicks the stone back into place, failing to realize he avoided a nasty fall into a wrought-iron fence at the bottom of a steep incline. My client rarely realizes these things,  but I don’t mind. He has a lot on his mind. More than I can possibly imagine.

My quarry has a flair for the poetic, but I still hate it.  My client has avoided striking his foot against the stone, but this will not keep these shadows from seeking to darken the light.  Have you ever heard such a ridiculous thing? As if a shadow could cover Light itself!  Try it some time. Shine your flashlight at a shadow, and let us wager on the outcome of the battle. Stake not your life, though, no matter how sure you are! It is not  your own, for you were bought at a price.

My client has arrived at his appointment. I meet old friends, and new friends. There is Light in this place, and joy. My client begins to believe he has come home, but his teacher reminds him that while he lives in this world, he doesn’t belong to it. “Look forward. Look on. Run home.”

He sings:
I walk in danger all the way;
The thought should never leave me
That Satan, who has marked his prey,
Is plotting to deceive me.
This foe with hidden snares
May seize me unawares
If e’er I fail to watch and pray;
I walk in danger all the way!

I smile. My client is safe, for my charge is given by the I Am. The One  through whom all things exists. He has sent me.  Our foes may be numerous, and may have once called themselves Legion. Scoff, and do not be deceived!  We are two for each of their one, and we shall prevail!

I am very good at my job.

And I will see you home.

Advertisements

2 thoughts on “The Walk

  1. “My father is also my employer, and as King, he doesn’t often muck it up in my line of work.”

    Muck it up? I’m not familiar with that phrase. When I read it, I think “mess it up” or “foul it up” and that’s obviously not what you mean. Am I reading it wrong?

    I really, really like the line “I meet old friends, and new friends.” You bring that up a few times, as well as the long-livedness of the angels in unique ways. You give your main character a pleasant personality. He’s not flippant, but he’s not dowdy and grouchy, like angels so often are portrayed in “standard” literature. He takes his job seriously, and with joy. I like that.

    What made you choose a sphere as the “bad guy”? It’s a unique take as far as what I’ve read.

  2. Muck it up=being in the mud and the muck. Picture a plantation owner jumping off his carriage and teaching his indentured servants the correct way to plant tobacco.

    The sphere was just a flat-out guess. I suppose that I could expound and say that Satan retained his purity of form but lost the Light? I wanted something suitably menacing and foreign, but I wanted to completely avoid the iconography that has basically turned Satan (and God’s messengers) into ridiculous parodies of themselves.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s