sixwordstories | (no subject)

Indeed, there must be evil even as there is good. But take heart, my dear ones, we are watching over you.

[Brer looks sad.] Does there have to be evil? Really? It gets people hurt, a lot more than the good saves, it seems like.

[Jack squeezes her hand and looks at Michael.] Um... Our mom is still here. Only... she's not-anymore. Used-to-be. Is there... if there are angels, does that mean there's Heaven?

Yes, child. There must. For without evil, the balance cannot be maintained. [Granted, there wasn't supposed to be evil loosed upon Creation, but such was Father's plan.]

There is indeed a Heaven. A glorious place, bright and pure. [He gently smooths Jack's hair.] She will be well taken care of, my dear one, worry not.

Oh. [And now Brer looks down and starts kicking her heels against the ground.]

[Jack almost smiles, but then he looks concerned again.] Will she be able to go there? She hasn't yet. But she was good. She still is. She's only still here because of us. She'll... I think she'll go on, when we do. If she can. Can she?

Ah, my dear, that I cannot answer for thee. For it is beyond my sight. My brother Azrael will take care of her when she does depart from you, never fear. He will ensure she is taken to her proper place among the departed.

[Jack nods.] But... she can leave?

Yes, child. When her task is complete.

[And for once, Jack actually smiles.] That's good.

[Brer stands up suddenly and spins around.] It's so pretty out! We never come out here!

[Satisfied, the archangel leans back on the bench and stretches his arm across the back, gazing out over the grassy lawn and the other cavorting children.]

Yes, it is. Truly, 'tis a beautiful day.

[Brer turns to Michael.] We never get to come here. We're always inside. You said you keep people safe, but you seem like you like it here. So do you come here because you have to, or because you want to?

[Michael tilts his head, pondering it for a moment.]

A bit of both, perhaps.

[He will not mention - not to these - the hoards of shadows just beyond the playground, slavering for the opportunity to feast upon some youthful soul.]

[Brer tilts her head too, watching him consideringly.] But you just sit here. You didn't even talk to anyone until we came over.

[Jack has seen them. But as long as Michael continues not to acknowledge them, he'll think they're not-real, not-here, not-now.]

[He chuckles, reaching out to gently tap the end of her nose.]

That is because I was waiting for you. I knew eventually you and Jack would come sit with me, and I was waiting.

[Brer giggles and bats at his hand.] But we came to sit with you because you were here.

[Michael laughs softly.]

There you are, then.

But that doesn't make sense! We came to sit with you because you were here, but you were here because we would come to sit with you--it's all twisty! [Brer twists her index fingers together to demonstrate and grins.]

Like a circle, yes? [Oh, but he does love children so.]

[Brer nods.] But circles don't make good stories. They don't make sense. Things should make sense.

Unfortunately, not all stories in the world make sense, dear one. A hard fact to accept, but a true one.

[Jack smiles at that.] Most of them don't.

But they are still good stories, are they not?

[Brer stamps her foot.] No.

[Jack laughs at his sister.] Not all of them. But some of them.

[Michael just chuckles.]

Would you two like to fly with me?

[And watch both their eyes get really big. And for once they say exactly the same thing.] Fly with you? Really?

Of course.

[So saying, Michael rises from the bench and shimmers just slightly as his large black wings slowly unfurl, they stretching high and wide as he sighs in relief. Oddly enough, no one else about notices the archangel and the children, because as Jack said, he is there and not-there at the same time.

Feathers rustle; they are soft as cotton but can be hard as diamond if needed. There are six; two large broad wings at his shoulders spanning over ten feet, two smaller but equally powerful beneath with a six foot span, but the last pair are wounded, charred and have been for all eternity. Remnants of a battle with a brother.

Nevertheless, Michael extends a hand to each child.]