I do not own The Prophecy.
And I never, ever thought I'd be writing for it.
What You're Told
The little girl, the vessel, the hiding place, perched comfortably on the red-haired, soft-spoken angel's lap.
Holding up to his lips an aluminum can of some sweet, syrupy drink she called 'coke'.
He gazed at her as she hummed tunelessly to herself.
She was beautiful.
Innocent and untouched and beautiful.
It was a pity that her purity, her soul must so be defiled, soiled.
Simon would have felt a depthless sorrow in his angelic heart for the child.
But he could not afford to.
His God had called him to action.
And to action he must go.
Mary, she had said her name was.
How very fitting.
Named for the most revered and reviled of all women in human and fallen angelic history.
Mary. Mother of Jesus.
Called upon by God himself to carry out the most daunting and fearful task in all of mankind.
To be a vessel, a safe place.
To carry and keep hidden until due time, the human form of the Son of God.
And now, two millennia later, another Mary.
Called upon by one of His fallen heavenly host to do much the same.
Only worse.
To carry and keep hidden, the dark soul of the most vile human ever to walk the Earth.
Gabriel wanted it.
Simon had it.
And Mary was going to keep it for him.
It would be a terrible burden to bear.
Simon, He Has Heard, carried it now within his weak, ailing form. With the heart and mind of an angel.
And still it taxed him. The evil within. The whisperings. The murmurs.
He contained it only by sheer force of angelic will.
And knew the little girl was no match for it.
But time was running short.
Gabriel, God is My Strength, was coming.
Coming for the soul.
Coming for the war.
Coming for Hell.
And Simon knew he could not allow him to have it.
Simon was ancient, a being out of time.
And he was tired. Tired of his weak human form.
That of a talking monkey, the other angels called the humans.
Talking monkey.
Simon had stood with his brothers, already in a turmoil, and watched the monkeys evolve higher.
Reach out.
And become more.
He had watched God walk with them.
Talk with them.
Put His mark on them.
Pour His love out upon them.
And forgive them for atrocities He would never have forgiven an angel for.
All they had to do was ask.
Ask.
And receive.
And the second war in Heaven had raged.
Against the talking monkeys.
Against each other.
Against God himself.
It had gone on so long, He Has Heard didn't know who was right or wrong anymore.
All he knew was God had told them to listen.
And obey.
Simon had tried to listen.
He had tried to obey.
Because he knew, by faith, that sometimes all there was to do was what you were told.
No matter the questions.
No matter the doubt.
No matter the blood.
God Is My Strength had usurped that command.
Driven past it.
All for his jealousy.
His pride.
His ego.
And therein lay the Sin.
Much like Lucifer, the Bringer of the Dawn.
Once loved. Once cherished.
But not so much as the humans.
And, unable to regulate himself to that fact.
Now at odds. At war.
The Bringer of the Dawn.
God is My Strength.
Both willing to burn down Heaven for their own hubris.
And it was now up to He Has Heard.
And the child.
To stop it.
Okay then. Now I've written for The Prophecy.
Uh, yep. *bewildered*
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