sixwordstories | (no subject)

[Ah, but Michael understands all too well. He curves a gentle arm about the boy, holding him near.]

Do not fear, my dear one. Nothing will harm thee, as long as I am here.

[Jack almost pulls away, but like he said... good-different.] Who are you? What are you? No one like you ever comes near our house, and everything comes near our house as long as-- [And again he clamps his mouth shut. If the man-or-whatever-he-is hasn't already realized Brer's ability to draw things to her, Jack isn't telling him.]

There is no need to fear me, Jack. My name is Michael. I am one of Heaven's Host, an angel looking out for God's children.

[Jack looks up, startled.] An angel--Michael--?

[Brer stands up on the bench, smiling.] An angel? Really? That's amazing! We never met an angel before! Our dad says angels aren't real, but he says everything's not real. He doesn't like saying things are real, Emily says it's because it makes him scared.

[Jack grabs the hem of Brer's shorts and tugs on it. She jumps down to the ground and sits back down on the bench.]

[Truly, children were the only purely innocent souls in Creation. And ever did it delight Heaven's Prince to fellowship with them, for in doing so was he reminded of his great service unto his Father, and the weights upon his shoulders were eased just a bit.

Seeing their excitement and exuberance, he laughs with them, nodding.]

Aye, we are very real. My brothers and I have been here a very long time, working to keep Father's children safe.

[A pause.]

Some adults choose not to believe we are because that is easier for them. When you are young, there is still room for angels and wonder in your minds.

[Brer throws up her hands and grins.] So you're like divine superheroes!

[Jack laughs, but then his mouth twists at Michael's second comment.] Dad doesn't like believing because of all the things that come to our house. So if angels are real, then all of them are real...

[Brer smiles at Michael.] But I'd rather angels be real. I'll take the bad things if it means you're real too.

[Jack nods almost imperceptibly.]

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.