The threat - no promise - of making it happen or else, curls around me tight like a python as I sit on my knee in the dark corner of my subject's room. He is sleeping soundly in bed for now. That is until I can figure out my next course of action.

I have to be strategic; there's no way I'm messing up again.

I have one job: make sure my subject dies.

With a cackle I slam his bed into his dresser; knocking over a one-foot heavy glass vase placed beautifully at the edge. I grin ear to ear as it plummets toward his head. As the vase was centimeters away from making an impact one of his angels appeared, yanking him out of the way.

I curse, glaring at the guardian angel. Light and love radiate off her, and I for one find that repulsive.

She towers over my subject - who’s now stirred and fully awake - like a mother hen.

“What happened?” he asks, getting off the ground.

His eyes widen on the fallen vase on his pillow and his bed against the dresser. He’s totally oblivious to me and my adversary.

Backing away from his bed as if it were a bomb, my subject looks around his room for a cause, anything to explain what just happened. His breathing becomes fast and shallow and his body shakes. Oh, I wish I could read his mind.

Calmly his angel comes up behind him and puts her hands on his shoulder. She doesn't have him see her; just to feel her touch and hear her voice. “Shh… It’s ok. Everything’s alright.”

“Not on my watch,” I say.

With a snap, I cack everything I can that’s made out of glass. Then I flicker the light off and on, adding to his paranoia. And for a sweet icing on top, I scratch big bold letters on the wall saying, You’re going to die.

Not being able to take it anymore my subject bolts for the door.

His angel snarls down at my triumph. With narrow fiery eyes, she says, “You will not succeed,” and then disappears.

I smirk, “We’ll see about that.”

My subject hastily puts on a winter coat and walks outside in the snow.

Both his guardian angels are flanking him now. This is not going to be easy.

A sharp whistle stops me in my tracks. I groan, knowing who it is before I turn around: the messenger boy of my superiors.

He leans on a building with a smug look on his pale bony face. "Well, well, well, I see your subject is alive."

"What you want? I'm working."

"And you better finish the job before human time midnight." He smiles and I know I have to fight it out of him.

"And if I don't?"

"You'll be forced to pay for your incompetence."

"Already? I was just tasked with him. That's-"

"Not fair? This is hell's business, since when was it fair?"

He stands up straight and says, "Good luck," and vanishes.

I bend over the shoulder of a human passing by to look at the timestamp on her phone.

My pale face becomes even paler. It is 11:30. I have only 30 minutes.

I grit my teeth. Last time I failed I was tortured in chains for a thousand human years. And there is no way in hell I’m going to let the survival of a pathetic human being send me back there.

I look around; there are so many things that kill someone on a night like this.

My eyes beam when I see a muscular man in a hoodie, leaning on a building. He is sharpening a pocket with great fiber, and eyes its features intensively.

Teleport behind him, focusing his eyes on my subject shivering a few feet away. I only make my voice known to him.

“People always underestimate how strong you are, including that guy right there.” He sets his jaw. To most humans, my voice is perceived to be their own thoughts.

“They look at you, they laugh at you, they don’t take you seriously. You know why? It’s because they think you’re pathetic and weak.”

He grits his teeth. “I am not.”

“Then show them. Kill that man and everyone will know how strong you are.”

He looks back at his blade and feels its sharpness. “I will.”

Shoving the knife in his pocket, he walks toward my subject. My subject’s angels stiffen but they don’t turn to face the attacker.

I teleport to a nearby dark corner to get a better look.

My subject's back faces the man. He hugs himself saying. “It was just a dream, I’m ok. I’m ok. There is no one trying to k-”

The man raises the blade and with a grunt, he brings it down.

My subject whips around with widened eyes and screams. One of his angels grabs the attacker’s wrist and holds it in place.

I curse. The attacker’s veins begin to pop out and his face reddens as he attempts to strike him.

With rapid breathing my subject ran away.

I curse again when I’m spotted. The angel not holding the man pulls out a flaming sword.

She locks eyes with me and races toward me. I vanish in the neck of time.

I close my eyes, taking a deep breath. If I get cut into pieces, I’ll grow too weak and I won’t be able to repair myself in time.

I look around before engaging my subject again. I smile, the ground is always slippery on a night like this.

With a gust of wind, I shove him to the ground.

He almost hits his head but one of his angels catches him.

I kick the building, “What else can I try?”

I fall to my knees with a grunt, when my arm servers from my body. Goo drips out of it and my attached arm shakes to support me. “How about going back to the hell-hole you came from.” the angel with the sword spat.

“Last I checked, your Master wants His side to love their enemies.”

“He also said the wicked will be destroyed suddenly, broken in an instant beyond all hope of healing.”

She comes around and lifts my chin with her sword. “I plan to make that scripture true to you if I see you try something else.”

“You don’t have the right to destroy me.”

I wince when she slightly presses the sword to my neck. “Why is that?”

“Your client fears. He’s cooperating with the kingdom of darkness. He has given me passage with his own free will.”

I let out a breath when she drops the sword. “Maybe so, but I still have the power to thwart you.”

“You won’t be able to stop me.”

She scoffs. “It’s cute how your side still thinks that.” Then she leaves.

I force myself to get up. Everything in me wants to tend to my wound. My strength is zapped out of me and I’m forced to limp around to look for my subject. Where is he?

Minutes later I see him sitting on a stair ledge that leads to an apartment.

I feel Messenger Boy behind me, and I grunt to show my regards.

“It’s 11:40 and not only is your subject alive but you got your arm cut off. At this rate, your pathetic prowess is going to land you a spot right back in the torture chambers. I hear it’s going to be hotter this time around.”

“You’re not helping”

He smirks with a shrug. “Who says I came to help?” he waves mockingly at me and laughs. “Toodaloo loser!”

I roll my eyes, typical. “C’mon. I have to step up my game. What should I do?” Seconds later I got it. If I overwhelm his angels I could break through their defenses, Yes that is what I’ll do.

It takes several grueling minutes before I find a large enough group and even more to sow a plan in their hearts.

Two people with knives walk toward my subject. He sees them approaching and runs. When he turns the corner, a woman greets him with a gun. One of his angels grips her wrist and she drops the weapon. The two behind him raise their blades and the other angel freezes them in place.

“Leave me alone!” my subject screams.

He crosses the street and a car zooms at full speed toward him. “No!”

His angels embrace him and pull up a shield around him. It thwarts the attack but the shield cracks.

The fear is working.

“I’m not ready to die.” he cries.

Five people approach him now. He doesn’t run this time but curls up into a ball. “Please don’t kill me,”

“Kill him,” I urge.

His angels bite their lips, hold hands, and bow to their knees. Sweat drips from their brow as they pray. With gritted teeth, they manage to blow the group off their feet.

One of them goes over to my subject and rests her hand on his cheek, “You’re going to make it through this. Have faith. When you call on Jesus, He’ll answer. He’ll deliver you from the hands of the wicked.”

It's their last attempt. My subject has surrendered. They will not be able to protect him next time.

“It’s 11:58!” Messenger Boy calls out to me from across the street. “Hurry up muchacho.”

The angels hear and glare at us.

The snow grows heavier and my subject starts to get up.

I have one more chance.

My eyes latch onto a train. It is stationary, but not for long.

My subject shields his eyes from the snow and looks side to side before crossing the train track. I trip him and he gets stuck.

He tries to pull his foot out, but it's all in vain.

I run as fast as I can in my weakened state to the train and tell the distracted driver to drive.

The driver puts the train in motion without looking. When he does, his hand reaches to stop it but I stick the gear in place.

I look at his angels who stare helplessly at my subject.

Goodbye, torture.

My subject closes his eyes and cries out, "Jesus, help me!"

"No!" I say.

In an instant, his angels are by his side, and the train goes straight through them.

Messenger Boy appears beside me, and dread fills my soul when our eyes meet. "Time's up. Your punishment awaits."

Back to Homepage