Seeing the Angel of Death
by Jean Jones
19:35English Standard Version (ESV)
35 And that night the angel of the Lord went out and struck down
185,000 in the camp of the Assyrians. And when people arose early in
the morning, behold, these were all dead bodies.
International Version (NIV)
36 Then the angel of the Lord went out and put to death a hundred and
eighty-five thousand in the Assyrian camp. When the people got up the
next morning—there were all the dead bodies!
From the movie
Did you ever notice how in the Bible, when ever God needed to punish
someone, or make an example, or whenever God needed a killing, he sent
an angel? Did you ever wonder what a creature like that must be like? A
whole existence spent praising your God, but always with one wing
dipped in blood. Would you ever really want to see an angel?
I'm an angel. I kill firstborns while their mamas watch. I turn cities
into salt. I even, when I feel like it, rip the souls from little
girls, and from now till kingdom come, the only thing you can count on
in your existence is never understanding why.
White wings, white face,
with a red mouth, and every time she spoke, she looked like an
alabaster statue speaking,
a weeping angel, but you could see her statue face, red eyes, open
mouth with blood inside,
I will never ever forget that face when she spoke
. She was smoking a
cigarette when she spoke, and I knew if I smoked from
that cigarette I would instantly die
for the cigarette was pure poison, filled with tar, ammonia, carbon
monoxide, and hydrogen cyanide.
When she would speak,
her mouth would reveal red like a tongue, or a tongue filled with
blood, and when she looked at you, you would shudder because she should
have been a statue but she was moving and her eyes were the eyes of a
living being, filled with red and darkness. . .
She had great big white alabaster wings that would tower over
you with the tips of the wings reaching all the way to the ceiling, no
matter how high the ceiling was, and she had this darkness all around
her, and when she laughed, it made your back tingle and sweat would
pour from your pores, because you didn't want her laughing about you.
If she touched you, you knew you would die; if her hand hand
brushed against yours, you would die, and all you wanted to do was get
away from her, never look at her and walk away quickly, hoping she
didn't notice you, because if she did, she would grab a hold of you and
stare you in the face and being turned to stone was better
than when she picked you up to stare at you. The touch of her hands
would kill you, but the look from her eyes would steal your soul, and
it wasn't the blank stare of the Weeping Angels, it was the stare of a
living being whose sole purpose was to kill you and everyone you knew.
I ran away the moment I saw her. . .I never looked back, and
I'm alive because of that. Don't ever look her in the face because if
she catches your eye, you'd wish she could just turn you to stone.It
was the screaming from the people she would grab that made me run so
far so fast- she would pick up someone and stare at them and the scream
was that of a person going straight to hell. What they saw in her eyes
when she would look at them they never got a chance to say and I would
run away before I could watch them scream.
© 2018 Jean Jones
Originally from Bandung, Indonesia, Jean Jones
received a BA in English in 1986 from
UNC-Wilmington, and an MFA in Creative Writing: Poetry in 1988 from
Bowling Green State University in Bowling Green, Ohio. Jean currently
teaches Basic Skills at Cape Fear Community College in Wilmington,
North Carolina .
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