Micro Monday
An Angel at War
Noble murder intentions
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I make better souls for a living. I hurt them so they change in heaven. It’s an honorable job, I get paid in tears and screams; it’s not green like money but it feels great when I get what I want.
Every night I visit dark places, where men are twitching and shaking, and shouting and growling. There’s always a few of them in the mix there for the twist and the take. I usually watch them for a while until I get the signal. Then I prepare for the targets and follow instructions; I get as much information as I can so that I can play with what I know and fuck with their heads. Powerful men need a woman like me, and once they get used to me, they can’t live without me. And the way I do it is simple, it happens like this:
I put one toe forward, hands approach. Another toe, they rub themselves together. I warm up, they smell that. They open their mouths, they’re hungry. I take my time, I know that usually works. Every step is calculated, one bad move and it’s over. I turn around and let them see part of what they want to see. I let their eyes make lots of fast circles around me. For a while they enjoy it, but soon frustration grows — not all is revealed. The body isn’t everything, the clever ones ask to see the rest. So I show them a personality, a version of the truth. The real one is not available; it’s fucked and locked.
I get a few tests that I pass, then trust settles in; they get hooked. Time passes and before it runs and they figure it out, I strike them in the heart, so they fall — for me. And while that happens, I let them fall because I’m used to it. My charms will always keep them coming, hard, in between my fingers, so I squeeze them until they become all red, until their veins pump and everything gets bigger and more real.
That’s when I pull the plug out, and it all explodes. Thoughts come first, regrets come next. Their conscience doesn’t lie. They come to terms with their sins, and that’s the moment I prefer: the transformation. I like to watch their faces melt from excitement to pain, from love to hate, from trust to fear, from life to death. And when it all clears up and stops — because they’ve paid their due, I move on to the next ones.
I have to keep going, the knife will always roll. My role is important in the big cycle of life; I help the angels in the sky. When they’re too tired to save souls, I’m on duty. But being an angel is tough, it’s not easy to create pain, to fight for good. Yet it has to be done. Oftentimes bad people slip through the nets, so I help in my own way.
Some souls deserve to be saved sooner than others, and I make sure of that. I never get a thank you or a smile, but I know God approves. Otherwise, I’d already be dead. I’ve never crossed the street at the wrong time, caught a disease no one’s ever heard of, or missed a fatal step. I’m still here and I’ll continue doing what I do, over and over again.
I’m a woman with a mission; I found my vocation, my contribution to the world, the reason I was given life. Sometimes you need a subtle warrior for some wars to be won. I’m the angel of death disguised as a woman that no one applauds.
