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Congratulations, George (Miss Khaos)! YOU WON!
Here's the winning entry to the Angels Challenge. Her competition was Daemon, and it was definitely a tough decision, but I think that her story-like approach to the challenge made it stand out (and it was also easier for Stace to follow).
The Hymn in the entry is by Charles Wesley.
QUOTE ( Angels Challenge Entry by Miss Khaos)
The Shadow of Thy Wing
I fall to my knees in front of the church, and an angel smiles benevolently down at me.
At least, what we used to think was an angel -- it is an angel carved of stone, with a gentle expression and arms outstretched, draped in flowing cloth and long, curling tendrils of hair. Two wings are folded neatly behind it, though still protruding slightly, appearing soft despite the cold and rough material. It is a beautiful statue.
But now it only makes it harder not to cry. How wrong we were; for decades we envisioned beautiful beings, helping mankind, leading us to the light. At some point we must have all forgotten what angels truly are: God's warriors. Perhaps there are some angels like this one, achingly kind and lovely; I have heard stories of humans who were visited by so-called angels who warned them of what was to come. Once I would have scoffed, but in light of recent events, it isn't all that far-fetched.
After all, they were right.
The earth shakes beneath me, the movement sudden and violent. The statue in front of me trembles, and a small crack appears, just in the center of its forehead. I have to force my eyes to stay on that crack, focus on it; I can't turn and look -- I don't need to. I know what's coming already.
Angels, indeed.
A low wail starts off in the distance and gradually grows in volume, becoming closer until it sweeps across the church and I like a wave of awful sound. The earth shudders again as the sound passes, and my body trembles as well. Another crack appears in the statue. Unable to help myself any longer, I very slowly turn to face it.
It's still a few miles away, but that means nothing for something so large. When the first angel fell from the sky -- into the Pacific Ocean, if I believe correctly, the impact sending tidal waves that took hundreds of thousands of lives – no one knew quite what to think at first. More have arrived since then, all identical, and the one in front of me is the same. It's much like a grotesquely large human, towering over the tall buildings we were once so proud of. Its eyes are shut, mouth closed, most of the time at least -- one glance from its horribly bright eyes will blind you, one rumbling word from its mouth cause your ears to bleed. Its head and body are completely devoid of hair or clothing, though of course it doesn't have the normal anatomy of a human when it comes to certain parts, completely androgynous.
The legends are only right about the wings. The rest of the angel could not in any way be described as "beautiful" -- terrible, horrifying, strange would be more fitting -- but the wings are an awe-inspiring sight to behold. They span miles, feathered and such a pure color of ivory that it makes your eyes ache. How awful that those stunning feathers have become a symbol of destruction; in the cities the angels crush, often the only things they leave behind are the bodies and the feathers they shed, giant feathers resting on the rubble like a fresh coat of snow.
It opens that gaping cavern of a mouth and cries again, a low rumble like an earthquake. It is currently crawling through the ruins of New York City, the city I was trying to flee -- not that there's any hope now. Painstakingly slow, it shifts its mammoth weight and moves forward, face shifting from side to side as if searching for something, despite that its eyes are still closed -- and thank God for that. One colossal hand raises and grabs a building, steel and glass crushing with a horrible screech as it tightens its grip and uses it as leverage to move forward. I flinch at the sound of the building breaking, raising both shaking hands to my face as if to shield myself.
I should have known better than to try and escape. There is no escape!
My lower lip trembles and I lower my hands again, pressing them together in front of me instead. Still, I try to speak; a song comes to mind, one I heard in church years ago when I used to attend. "A prayer for shelter from the storm of life," the priest said. Strange how I can remember, now of all times, when my mind is in a frozen panic.
"Jesus, lover of my soul, Let me to Thy bosom fly. While the nearer waters roll, While the tempest still is high."
The angel lets go of the building and grabs a new one, demolishing it with its huge hand and continuing to move forward.
"Hide me, O my Savior, hide— Till the storm of life is past; Safe into the haven guide, O receive my soul at last."
That thing is staring at me. I can feel the weight of its gaze, its awful gaze, and its eyes still aren't even open. It's so huge, covering the distance between us is nothing for it.
"Other refuge have I none— Hangs my helpless soul on Thee. Leave, ah, leave me not alone; Still support and comfort me."
My lips are shaking so badly that I can barely get the words out now. The angel has left most of the city behind, and is drawing ever closer. Every time its hand rises and falls to the earth again, I feel the resulting trembling. The entire planet is quivering in fear of its approach.
It's here. It's here! I can't bring my mouth to move any longer, looking up at its impossibly huge frame. It lowers its face towards me, its breath and the light flutter of its wings causing gusts of wind that threaten to bowl me over.
Angels aren't messengers. They aren't divine aid, they aren't spiritual guides, they aren't our saviors. They're more than warriors, even.
They are the end of the world.
Somehow, gasping for breath, I manage to continue my prayer.
"Cover my defenseless head With the shadow of Thy wing."
Its hand extends, grasps me with a surprising gentleness, lifts me up off of the ground as if I were a doll; it dwarfs me in its grip. It brings me up to its face and slowly peels back its eyelids.
As the fingers tighten around me, I find my judgment in its eyes.
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Winner! Angels Challenge, YAY FOR MISS KHAOS!
