The Watcher | D.Clarke |

The Watcher
DeAlexander Clarke
©2017

It pains one to have to engage in such acts, seeing this man begging for his life. His palms
sweaty and eyebrows pushed together in a sort of anxious embrace. His lips turned downwards and those same sweaty palms extended towards The Watcher; the one who wields the mighty scythe, standing over this victim of vice. This…man; unequivocally guilty of the sins marked in the book of life. The sins most abhorrent. He is the basest, and indeed worthy of what is to befall him.

The man offers his cries; pleading with the angel. His cries to not move him though. The
Watcher has heard it all before. He has seen the petty humans engage in lust, four and five at time, subdued by the spirits which alter their judgment and make them act in ways contrary to virtue.This man was not a lover of lust, but more a student of envy. And one knows the pitfalls that await those who partake in this destructive vice. But details at this moment are irrelevant, though the hearts and minds of many would plead for some.

Attention is to be turned back to The Watcher. His were eyes of the hottest flame, burning blue, and gazing into the widened and frantic brown eyes of his victim. His body fitted with a white vest, which hugged his slim frame, and under that vest, a crimson red dress shirt. The sleeves were rolled up revealing his burnt bronze complexion and exposing a few Enochian tattoos upon his forearms. His pants were of the same material, and his shoes matched with his shirt.

The Watcher took one step, and even though the angelic being had been wrapped in this
fleshy human form, the force of his steps set within the earth a trembling, its effect felt by anyone within fifty yards. The sky lost its usual evening indigo-coloring, and grew gray and the air increased in thickness, and the humidity, combined with the low pressure, sent forth a flash in the heavens, and as this occurred, the silhouette of The Watcher revealed his long angelic wings, its wing-span close to twenty four feet. The man caught sight of this brief revelation and in that moment, his breathing increased, for he knew what this man was.

“No–no!” The man said.
“No? What have you to say of your acts?” responded The Watcher, those burning blue
pearls casting upon the mortal, unmoving, unwavering and with a stoicism delivered unto his consciousness by the almighty creator.

“You don’t understand—my broth–”

But before he could utter the last syllable, The Watcher’s hand rested upon the man’s
solar plexus. One would think the sinner’s eyes could not widen any further but it managed to; and the spark of life which had been well noted in his pupils, receded. The man took in one final breath, and the hands; his final mediators, his last attempt at redemption, though ineffective, grew limp. His body followed in like fashion, slapping against the smoky gray pavement; those eyelids still up and showing a blank and lifeless stare into the darkened and quiet night. His soul was extinguished; cast into a sea of flames, never to be returned to the natural world. For some, reincarnation might be considered but this man’s acts were far too egregious to grant him another life.

Now, I know curiosity lives within your mind right now. It sets its table, and sits on the broken stool, uncertain if the stool will offer a mild shifting or if it will completely break
and cause you harm. A cat jumps on the table; purring with delight. Please, allow your
curiosities to be relieved through the petting of this cat. Allow him to abate the suspense until the next chapter of this story.

Farewell,

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