The Ascent

She runs.
The sky burns.
It burns with the colors of flame and fresh blood.
She runs for shelter.

The earth beneath her feet is stained with the now dry blood of innocence.
Fire rains down upon it from the inflamed sky above.
She stumbles.
The winged beasts are coming.

Their screeches are all too near.
She ducks into the nearest doorway, slamming the door and barring it.
She cries for someone to help her.
There is no one left, only the demons.

They thirst for blood and death.
First rising from the sea, or exploding from the mountains.
The sea it's self is acidic now.
As are the lakes and rivers, all the color of rust.

She shakes herself away from the horrors she's seen.
She takes notice of her surroundings.
How fitting.
She has taken refuge in a church.

The plaster saints are blackened.
The pews are burnt.
The cross has fallen to it's side, blackened like the saints.
The alter is cracked down the middle, but otherwise untouched.

She steps forward on scraped and bloodied feet.
She knows there is no one to help her now.
Against all of her prayers,
She is alone.

Her family was burned.
Her fiance torn apart by winged beasts.
Her friends lost to disease.
She is the last here.

Tears course through the dirt on her face.
She stands on the cold marble steps to the alter.
Alone and bereft,
Battered and bruised.

The only audible sounds are those of snarling growls and claws on wood.
She is trapped.
She lays upon the cold steps at the base of the alter.
Huddled in her once white, torn, blood and soot stained dress.

She pulls the remnants of a red velvet curtain over her to act as a blanket.
It smells heavily of wood smoke.
The demons would get to her soon enough.
She wraps the curtain about her tighter.

She is too tired to care.
She pillows her head on her arm and drifts off to sleep.
Time passes, the scraping from outside slows and stops.
She wakes.

Brightness.
Light, white light, tinged blue...
From above her.
She looks.

An angel dons the alter with strength and power in his poise.
His deep blue eyes are fierce and at once gentle.
His robes of white shimmer, the origin of the light.
He holds out a slender pale hand to her.

She collapses in sobs against his chest.
He comforts her the way a parent would their frightened child.
She looks into his face, he kisses her lips softly like a lover...
They begin ascending.

The rotting roof of the church begins to collapse.
The girl hides her face against the angel's shoulder.
The debris never touches them, or comes near them in any way.
They continue upwards.

The winged beasts come for them.
The warrior angel strikes them down with a sword of silvery light.
Soon the angel and his charge are among the clouds.
They would be home soon.
Very soon.

A.J. Downey
11-14-1998