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A SHOW OF SIGNS – DEMON DESCENT

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image courtesy of Digital Blasphemy

The Warrior knew.

Armageddon was at hand. Hell be damned.

He had seen the mark of Man left behind when He had descended, for this battle needed its Supreme Commander. Hell would be damned for sure. But not without a fight.

The agents of evil had infiltrated the gates, posing and passing as obedient servants of He who is to come again. The temptation is strong for those who are not prepared. Thankfully, Michael’s sword cut swiftly to separate the rebels from the Defenders.

The Warrior had been a Defender. He still was actually, But his “assignment” had been changed. He was to wait for the Coming and the Downfall. The mark of Man had affirmed the Arrival of Him. Now, the Warrior awaited the descent.

He remained vigilant; a sentinel charged to protect all that was Holy. His eyes were trained on the horizon. Tranquility took residence briefly, but he knew it was a matter of…

A thunderous rumble reverberated in the distant sky. A cacophony of screams and explosions; cackles and war cries. The sky became inflamed with the brightness of a million stars released from hope, each star a fallen soul discharged from the multitudes to avenge their infiltration. Plummeting to earth, scorching all that surrounded their impact to stand erect and strong; a combatant in the name of Darkness. The Warrior unsheathed his weapon; it’s glistening a signal to all.

The battle had begun.

The Warrior knew better this time.

Heaven and Hell be damned.

***

This is a continuance of one of my earliest FLASHY FICTION pieces. From “A SHOW OF SIGNS” (https://wallegories.wordpress.com/2011/08/31/a-show-of-signs/) Posted at FLASHY FICTION on 19 Jan 2010

ON THE WATERFRONT

Boat after boat, ship after ship, Virgil kept his guard up

Virgil stood at dockside, observant; watchful. The security threat had been posted and every man appeared to be extra vigilant.

Reports of vandalism and sabotage had heightened of late, making the last few weeks before his retirement more stressful than the past twenty years. They had dangled that early retirement carrot before his eyes, but it wasn’t about any sweet financial package. Virgil loved being productive and helpful.

Boat after boat, ship after ship, Virgil kept his guard up for anything suspicious. Arrant barnacles had been mistaken for plastic explosive by one of the night shift inspectors, and he still catches flack from the crew. New guys were always conscientious to a fault. But. Virgil believed you were better safe than sorry.

He watched and waited. Three more weeks without incident, and Virgil could put his blue helmet into storage. Until then, Virgil kept vigil.