Forever My Father

I watch his hands tremble. A son of God never deserved this fate. It shouldn't matter the sin, yet, here in Heaven, sin was forbidden. Maybe the Earth dwellers could get away with it, but certainly not here! My last heartstring detached itself from the boy as the two spirits held him a couple feet in the air by his roped wrists. His teeth clenched, and a third angel closed his eyes for a moment waiting for a signal. From me.

The boy had been among my angels for millennia's. No angel died, and no angel was made since the time I brought about Heaven itself. It was my progeny of sorts, as are it's visitors, and dwellers. My numbers never depleted whether Satan thought them gone from me or not. I appear beside the boy, gliding next to his face. I decide to appear as usual; nothing menacing. Just a ghostly form of white. My hand traces his jaw, and a tear slides off one of his long lashes. He's so young. I knew he felt shame, but he stood his ground like none before him.

"Why?" I whisper to him. I don't open my mouth, but the boy's black eyes flick towards me. Those orbs latch on to me like leeches on fresh, human flesh. So much hatred lies in those black eyes of his. They burn to their core with Lucifer's divine invention. I move my hand from his face to his chest. His soul burns with the same furry.

I urge him not to scream as I nod to my servant. His white wings make a sickening ripping sound at the depart from his back. Loose feathers flutter past the clouds of Heaven as a burning, black scar in the shape of a V forms wear his wings once were. The wings in the angels hands turn black on their down tips, until they're seemingly drenched in ink. I turn my head down as the ebony wings are dropped to the Earth.

He falls loose in the angel's arms. Without the support of wings his feet dangle, and his wrists crack under my son's grasp on his rope. He becomes remarkably solid, his pale muscles straining to stay up in this sky palace.

"Your job here was to serve me," I say aloud. "You have disappointed me to the point wear you are no longer welcome in the realm of Heaven. You are still a son of God no matter the time or the place, but you my son-" I pause to look into his black eyes one more time. His brow his knitted together, and he looks a little less than happy. Being lectured like the child he was. "- have become to close to sin. Too close to Satan and his company. I beg you, think hard down on Earth. Think of the things that make life up here possible. Think of all of the things you should be grateful for. All of the things your Father has provided. Think Patch, think."

"I do think!" he screams, breaking the spell. "I think about love, and sacrifice! That's what matters most!"

"What about thy Father?"

"He's a fairy-tale!" Patch screams. "He causes terror, heartbreak, and guilt among those who reside on the ground. You made them, and now you won't even help them!"

"I let them make their own decisions," I reply calmly. He has no right to lecture me on my capabilities. "I can't show up to every dying soul and place it back together. That's what gives them freedom, hope, and drive. My greatest gifts. Without me, there would be no 'happy'." I part the clouds to show a town on the hills of Germany. The streets bustle with the noise of hundreds of commoners, and merchants. "See?"

I could feel his breath quicken as he closed in on a young girl running through the crowd in a satin dress. Her cascading brunet hair fell in waves behind her back as she hurried to church. I smiled at her as he is now.

I only glance at one of my sons as he pulls out a silver knife. I only have a few moments to look at Patch before he starts his plummet to the Earth. So far down. I gulp at the sight of his screaming all the way down. I turn on my heel whispering internally to him. "Have a happy life my son, be well, and say your prayers." My mouth quirks into a half smile at the thought of one of my own kneeling before his bedside to pray.

"I didn't tell you to cut him loose," I whisper. Their eyes dart to each other, and back to me frantically. The one with the knife. shoves it deep in the pocket of his rope. "May God have mercy on your soul." I grin devilishly like a human father would to his sons behavior. My make-believe lifestyle was really starting to grow on me.

A whistling of the wind caught, and we all took to it like sand in the ocean breeze going home.

~ So, how'd you like it? It was wierd portraying God, since the Bible says that no one has that power, but this is fiction so I'm sure He won't mind :)

Please review! This is my first Hush, Hush fanfic :)

Much Love,

Em