Young Writers Society

Author's note: A pretty short piece of literature I wrote today. Shorter than most of my stories, pretty much unedited. Took about three hours or so. I haven't written any prose for a good while now - months, actually - so I'm curious if I've still got it. I'm afraid I haven't. Still, I'll get back into it. Gotta scrape off the rust.

So this is really just a first draft of sorts. I'm thinking the pacing could be better. It's supposed to be somewhat chaotic for the sake of the story, but it's also a little lazy, I've gotta admit. Once I get some reviews, I'll save it as a persistent work and rewrite it somewhere down the line, like I do with all persistent stories.

Edit: Edited title. Sounds better like this now that I woke up.

--- He Will Not Grow Weary ---

"Who sent you?"

"An angel of the Lord..."

The night had fallen so abruptly, with dark clouds veiling the earth beneath my feet. I trampled that good earth, lifting dust and soil as I ran so far and fast, hands still tainted with the blood of my fellow man. Have you heard? Have you heard of the coming of the Lord? The second rise of our Savior, who would baptize the world with fire? With glory and grace so infinite, He will root out sin and burn all that evil wrought, and no one would stand in His way as the sky fell and endless rain of brimstone descended upon our souls. For seven deeds, I shall forgive the plagues of my brothers, for seventy-seven deeds, as was told in the gospels. I forgive them now, sprinting through these fields so vast, weary now from battles not few in count.

Do you not know? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He will not grow tired or weary, and his understanding no one can fathom. Though we grow weary still, His servants so devout in heart, we who bring His will upon the Earth, we who seek to serve the Lord God in all his great restraint. We grow tired and weary as many a great snare catches us like fish in a net. And we too shall die.

No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love him - but God has revealed it to us by his Spirit. I fail in my efforts, I fail in my heart, more so do I fear the moment of my death. And now, a sinner still with many misdeeds then committed, I cannot run from God. May the Lord's endless understanding guide me forth as the spotlights blind me, as voices roar and rifles fire volleys of heated lead, my lifeforce ebbing from this realm. I am close to God, and I see my children - their faces are so clear, like the inevitability of my fate. And as I peer towards distant horizons with acceptance, shots whistling past, cracking like whips, deafening me, senses dulled and thrashed, I ask with slight regret, "what have I done wrong?"

--

"We should leave. They're coming!" I remember him shout. His gruff voice had never sounded so distressed. Such a calm and gathered soul, now utterly shaken by the glaring lights and sirens. Standing in a small room, it's early dusk. There's a gun in my hand.

"His will is not complete. Remember, James, trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own under--" Interrupted as I spoke, a hollow thud fell upon the barricade. The door would soon fall, and armed men would flood us like the tides flood a pier. I turned to the gagged figure, tied to a wooden chair. It struggled and cried, voice muffled. My heart took haste, beating faster with every passing second, pumping blood, giving life, and soon my vision became blurred. All was little more than an oil painting, vivid and cluttered, almost unbelievable.

In that absurdity, as all had disappeared from sight and sound, and I was alone in the chaos, a ray of luminescence, of such pure light, broke free in front of me. A star, a glowing lantern in the dark, in my night of the soul, and there it stood in beauty such - the angel of the Lord. With feathered wings, black and inky, and a crown of bronze, it gazed upon me in total neutrality. I knelt before God's agent, bowing my head, and at that moment, the door broke down. Broken from its hinge, it flew forward and fell upon the ground, crashing down. Shouts and screams filled the air, yet I remained, kneeling, without fear or worry. All angst had left me as the warm gaze of God's grace enveloped me whole like maternal love, and I knew in that moment that I was not alone.

"Never forget." the angel whispered softly, its voice like music to my ears. A melody so serene, so mild and still. So incomprehensibly beautiful.

Without fear, I climbed from the ground and turned the barrel of my gun toward the foe. One shot rang, the adversary fell. Another resounded heavily with dread, another body dropped. Flames left the steel, burning brass flew aside, blood spilling from dire wounds. The final adversary, clad in black, whose face I could not see, took flight from the scene of battle. Taking aim, I took his life as I took the lives of others before him, claiming yet another soul, another horrendous deed, though all was in the name of God, and all was His will.

The bound figure struggled yet more, yanking and jerking around, rolling about. The chair had tumbled on its side, leg broken, likely pierced by a bullet, for there were many of those around in flight. As I dispatched our enemies, I peered high above the bound man, gazing down upon him with the wrath of God. He knew of his sins. He knew all too well what he had done to deserve this fate. He plead and plead, crying at my feet, and I was there to deal out judgment, and had, for that brief moment, all alone become the Law.

"See now that I, I am He, and there is no God beside Me. It is I who put to death and give life. I have wounded and it is I who heal, and there is no one who can deliver from My hand." I proclaimed so tall with might, pointing my weapon, the holy instrument of God, at the foul sinner's head. He would soon know that dark is right.

"You have committed crimes against the Lord, and you have halted his will continuously. Your life has brought toil upon the Father, and for that, He sentences you to die. By the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, I command you to leave this world and spend eternity in purgatory as you see fit!"

The trigger was light and my conscience lighter still. I knew that the will of God had been done through me, I knew that I had done right, all as the metal fragments shredded the sinner's skull. Piece by piece they shattered, wreaking havoc, scrambling that which gave him life. The shrapnel left as bits of mangled lead, covered in blood and marrow, tainted with the stench of death. The body tumbled, head hung low as the last breath of life departed from its lips, a gaping hole puncturing its cranium through and through. The carpet beneath was soaked, completely ruined, as was the sinner's fine suit. I had become God's angel of death. I had become his instrument of war, his servant in times of darkness, and such times required great sacrifice.

James stared in horror at the scene. His eyes were widened, jaw dropped as he lay upon the tiled floor. Breathing heavily, trembling, he looked upon me and said,

"Isaac, I don't- What happened to you, Isaac? What just happened?"

Truth be told, I cannot say precisely how or what took place in those precious seconds. Only after my rampage could I gather a glimpse of my surroundings. A small room, though comfortable, if only it was not complete with blood-stained walls, with a fireplace on one end and a great oak desk at the other. Baroque paintings hanging from golden hooks and expensive furniture, carved in a style of equal historical period, with many a curve and twist for decoration. It had a bourgeois look, with all its fancy decor and furnishing, and that's without mentioning the wealth of riches undoubtedly occupying all the drawers and chests around us.

Oh, what a fine place to live it would be, if it wasn't for four cadavers resting on the fine rugs, their blood soaking the fabric. For some reason, I cannot recall who they were. Three of them were guards, of course. They must have been. But who was the fourth man? Why were we here?

"James...? Who was that man? What are we doing here?" I inquired slowly, voice somewhat panicked by this sudden realization of ignorance.

My breath became shallow and heart ran a marathon. With such confusion, I tried desperately to recall even a glimpse of memory. I clawed at my skin, tore out hairs, screamed in anguish as I fought for the slightest clue as to what I was doing here. But to no avail. My comrade watched, sitting in the corner, and his gaze was as dull as a stump, empty, without signs of life. Yet he breathed. Calming myself, I shuffled towards his collapsed form, holding him by the shoulders, shaking sense into him. Yet I myself was senseless, muddled and wasted to the very core, shaken by my own deeds, desperate for answers. I recalled only God's holy light, the bright spark of His angel who did guide me forward. Everything beyond that moment was scorched to ash.

"For this is the will of God, that by doing good you should put to silence the ignorance of foolish people." I muttered calmly, voice trembling in the dead atmosphere.

Was that my purpose? Had I come here to silence those who committed foul deeds? Would it be sinful of me to question the will of God? But of course! Had I not prayed for this? Had I not prayed to become God's soldier, to do His will, to live and die for righteousness? And as I asked these questions, the realization of my meaning and purpose suddenly hit me.

--

It started some twenty minutes ago. I remember all too well the in-depth planning, the endless discussions, conference after conference, constant bickering about the specifics in our execution of the mission. I remember the room, I remember the faces of my comrades, what they wore and their manner of speech. If only I could recall their names. On second thought, if only I could remember the plan. These torturous fragments of memory keep on haunting me! Why can't I know more? I know these people! If I could just stretch my mind, just reach out and remember! But I can't. I only remember arriving by the mansion, the gravel road crunching beneath my feet as I walked towards the main gate. They let us through without any trouble, to my great surprise. Didn't even want an ID check.

Walking. Walking through the hallway, boots thumping on the wooden floorboards. I have a gun in my pocket, a semi-automatic Glock 19, chambered in 9 milimeter Luger ammunition, 350 meters per second muzzle velocity, length - 174 milimeters, weighing in at roughly half a kilogram, fifteen rounds. The perfect murder machine, loaded with hollow point rounds to wreak havoc in the bodies of anyone who'd stand in our way, and by extension, in God's way. Prepared to mercilessly dish out the Lord's fiery justice. My companion. My friend. My lover. As I'm walking, I don't think. I'm determined. Ready to do what needs to be done. This is it. My moment of glory.

Bursting through the door, I tackled the balding man to the floor. His suit was plain black with a tie of matching color.

"W-What do you want from me? Who sent you? I'll give you anything!" he cried out, confused.

"An angel of the Lord." I replied coldly.

We tied him down together, me and James, and strapped him to the chair. We were here to end it, here and now, and we would do so in a manner befitting his heinous acts.

But who was he? Why did we come to kill him? What had he done so terrible? I don't know. Perhaps I can't know. I know only that the wrath I felt towards his very being was immense and blazing with the heat of a thousand Suns. I would kill him ten times over without hesitation, without a single second thought.

Alarms sounded off, sirens howled in the distance, many lights flashed as I stared at my prisoner, bound and gagged. Somewhere along the line, we had failed. James' face, full of horror, commission at the staircase. They'd soon be here. We would finish our task nonetheless.

"We should leave. They're coming!"

--

Spotlights. Blinding white light. Distant shouts, gunfire. Standing with my arms wide open, I'm tackled to the ground.

"The fuck are you doing?" James exclaimed, his sight fixed upon me. He was in a state of panic, and his eyes gave away the immense fear he held within. He had many cuts upon his hands. We had leapt from the third-floor window, though I'm not sure what we thought to achieve. We could never get far on our own. They'd hunt us down like game, like prey in the woods. The truth is, there was never any hope for our survival. Blood rushing down his forehead, I gazed deep into his eyes. This was the end.

"And the world is passing away along with its desires, but whoever does the will of God abides forever." I spoke tenderly, comforting my friend and ally. There was little reason to die afraid. Were we to perish, it'd be with faith in our hearts, without fear of death.

"What? But why? We did everything He asked, we did the job, we killed the bastard right then and there!" James cried aloud.

"Shall the clay say to him who fashioneth it - what makest thou? Do you not understand, James? We aren't meant to know the will of God. We played our part, and fulfilled the plan He had for us. Thus, we may die with comfort in our hearts. Rejoice, James! We have been saved!"

The voices drew near, vicious dogs barked and lights danced in the sky. You could see the stars, shining alongside the Moon, high above, guiding pilgrims on their perilous journeys. I glanced at the night sky, taking in its sheer beauty one last time.

"I don't want to die!" James broke out in tears. He wept and wept, howling and sobbing as bullets flied past at great speed, praying for it to end, pleading with God to stop this madness.

"We knew what it would cost. Worry not, my friend." I said, turning to the sky. "Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil, for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me."

Rushed by our prosecutors, we were surrounded, encircled by men armed to the teeth with rifles and pistols, all of them determined to bring us to justice. They all shouted over one another, screaming and barking, growling and howling, commanding us to stay down. Doubtlessly, they hoped to question us, and I would not let that happen. Behind their ranks I saw the angel of the Lord, peering high, its warmth and comfort attracting me.

"The cords of Sheol surround me; The snares of death confront me. Yet I fear no evil!" I exclaimed, pressing on, running towards the first man I could spot. And then, as if I had vanished, I lost all sense of space and time.