life, death, and a temper tantrum
“Hey Dol, how were your numbers yesterday?” The Angel of Death seated himself at the tiny table for today’s meeting.
“You are quite guache, you know that Aod? No finesse.” Dol replied, sipping his espresso.
“And you are avoiding my question. That bad, huh?” Aod raised his hand to the waitress, indicating two more coffees.
Dol glared at him through slitted eyes for a moment and slid a very official looking report across the tabletop.
Aod let out a low whistle, “756,912,854 prayers for life yesterday. Save me, Save them, Save the children, that one is still cheating by the way, prayers for babies. Good numbers, but you still get to pay for coffee today old friend.” The Angel of Death handed over his own report.
“How do you have over a billion prayers for death?” Dol hissed. “HOW??!” The glass shattered in the windows all up and down the street at his inhuman shriek.
With a sigh and snap of his fingers Aod repaired the windows and wiped the memories of those in the area for the last thirty seconds.
“The perks of being an Angel.” Dol snarled, and settled back in his seat.
“Jealousy does not become you my friend.”
“Tell. Me. How. You. Do. It.” Dol demanded through gritted teeth.
Aod considered for a moment. “Well, it’s like this. I don’t do anything. Life and death are both selfish processes. Life is selfish because no one actually asks to born, someone else makes that selfish choice for you. Death is also selfish, but for those that are left behind. Death is an inevitability grief is a choice. People pray to die, to end their suffering, to end the suffering of others, but also out of malice and fear. In this world, malice is rampant, a disease of its own. So see, all I do sit back and wait. People are inherently selfish, but they are also inherently petty and self absorbed.”
“Thus your number being so much higher.”
“Too bad I can’t shake the bad reputation. I may be Angel of Death, but I am still an Angel.” He unfurled impressive shining white wings that were only visible to Dol.
“Show off.” Dol griped for possibly the millionth time, “At least people know your name. Angel of Death Angel of Death.” he mimicked.
“It’s okay Dol, someday people will know yours.” Aod consoled.
“Maybe today is that day.” Dol muttered, pushing his chair back and taking off his suit jacket.
“Dol, no. You can’t. Not here. Not ever. Dol! Stop! DOL!!”
But it was too late. Dol shed his human skin, revealing the demon underneath. His skin was strangely stretched, a bottomless blackness, pitted through with fist sized holes, burning embers visible inside. He gave off the stench of sulphur and once you looked into his cold eyes you couldn’t look away.
Aod facepalmed and dragged his hand through his hair. He had lost another one. This made 38 Demons of Life over the millenia. They just couldn’t stick it out. Maybe he should cool it with the wings?
“I AM THE DEMON OF LIFE” he roared.
“Shit.”
The Message
When the Lady Arlene asked me to take a letter to the Crown Prince of Darland, I thought it would be a simple task.
Granted, she did keep her apartment in the tallest tower of the castle on the highest peak in the land, and his father’s palace was at the base of the distant hills. What I hadn’t counted on was his immediate reply, which required an answer from her post-haste.
That was three days ago.
I spurred my horse - the fourth I had exhausted since this debacle began - to even greater speed. I had to get this latest dispatch to the Lady with all haste; the Prince was waiting anxiously on her reply to his new communique, which was safely tucked in my saddlebag. It read:
“I don’t know. What do YOU want to do after we meet for dinner?”
© 2018 - dustygrein
#flash #flashfiction #makemesmile #amwriting
