Writing Prompt #5 — Angels’ Haste

Prompt: God is gone. What angels remain are out of a job.

(Would like to note this was written when I was using my old Reddit username, not my current one: MicahCastle)

He wrapped his muscular arms under my armpits, picked me up from the ground, and then we were off. Up in the sky, the warming wind whipped my body and between my dangling feet I could see the city rush underneath in a grayish blur. This wasn’t the first time I rode with Angels’ Haste, but I never got use to the feeling of flight. Beyond his shining frame, I could see two large brilliant ivory wings flapping. To break the monotony, I asked him a question.

“How’d you get started doin’ this?”

Without looking down, he said in a hollow but soothing voice. “Many years ago, we did not have to perform such acts. We worked for a mighty man, a man named God, Jesus to some. He was the King of everything and everyone, a gracious, kind, forgiving man. However, as time stretched on, belief in Him dwindled, nearly vanishing completely. How can a King rule without His people? And thus, when there were not any more believers, no more to worship Him, He left. I do not know where He went, nor do I know even if He is still alive.”

The angel sighed, then continued. “Once done, we, the angels, the servants of God, had nowhere to go, nothing to do. We were faithful to the very end, but what were we to do once our God abandoned us? Heaven was no longer a place of pure bliss, it became vacant, desolate, the warmth it possessed left it with Him. Thus, after many months of deciding, we came up with the idea of Angels’ Haste. We could help those who need it, without Him, and be given something to do while we wait.”

“What for wait?” I asked, dumbly.

“For His return, of course. He returned before, and I believe, we all believe, He will return again. We do not know when or how He will return, but in our hearts, at the very core, we believe He will. Thus, as we patiently wait for His return, we do this, carry men and women from one place to another with the gift He gave us.”

We were descending now, the wind became cooler, my hair falling against my forehead, and I could feel my shirt being pushed up my torso. The skyscrapers passed by us, and the millions of windows become a blinding white. Down below on the sidewalks and streets, I could see hundreds of people like ants scurrying to their jobs or homes.

Seconds later, I was on the ground, straightening my shirt. The angel kept afloat with his wings, his silver hair bobbing with his body’s movements.

“So how much do I owe ya’?”

“Nothing, nothing at all, sir. But what I ask of you is to pray. Pray to Him for His return, and through this, I will be paid for my services.”

“Alright bud, I’ll do that. Thank you for the ride, have a good one.” I said, waving while I turned to walk away. I heard the whooshing of his wings behind me and when I looked back, he was gone. I had no intention of praying, little good it did in the past, so why do it now? Plus, Angels’ Haste beats taking a taxi any day.

Read my previous prompt, “Nocturnal Tracks.”

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