"THE WASTE"
...an angel's point of view...
“THE WASTE”
… an angel’s point of view….
Michael stood upon the edge of the heavens, a blade of light in his hand and disgust in his eyes. Below him sprawled Earth never more the perfect place …now a pit of comfort, noise, and weakness dressed as progress. He could smell it through eternity, the awful stench of souls rotting in self-worship.
He remembered a time when humans built altars with blood and faith, when their bones broke in prayer, when their hearts beat like war drums for something greater than themselves. Now they built screens. Now they worshiped reflections.
They prayed for validation, but never salvation.
“Just look at them,” Michael said, voice cracking the void. “They were given it all… now … just … it’s just sickening to watch…”
Gabriel said nothing beside him, wings folded tight, eyes on the horizon. He was mercy.
Michael was not.
