Rain pours down in the old church. A tall man touches the old rusty door handles and opens the door. The door clicks and he sees a river of candles illuminating the dark church. He hears whispers coming out of the shadows.
The smell of incense and burning wax penetrate his nose making his head a little dizzy. He walks. His boots splashing against the wooden floor makes some people turn around and stare at him with candles in their hands. He makes his way to the altar leaving trails of mud and water behind.
When he arrives at the altar he sees a priest knelt down and facing the altar, shaking the container that has incense in it and it is creating a curtain of smoke that rises all the way to the ceiling that has paints of Popes and Saints. The priest is wearing a long white robe with a large red painted cross across his back.
The man’s mind keeps replaying the images of his master’s son being murder; rusty nails, blood everywhere and screams of women and men all of them staring into the middle cross. Images of him; watching it happening still makes his skin shiver in horror and anger. He remembers how that morning his master called them to watch as if there was going to be another Genesis. But, now instead of his master creating a beautiful thing as that day he created man, now he was watching his son being torn apart by his own creation. He tried to stop them, but before he could reach the men Gabriel stopped him in mid-air.
“Stop, this is the way it supposed to be Michael.”
“But, look at the way those mortals are treating him! I could just annihilate all of them! ”
“No, that’s how Our Father wanted it to be done. We got to obey his orders!”
Michael promised to himself that he was going to kill all of those that participated in the killing. But, he was sent to a special mission for two thousand years and as soon as it was over he began tracking down the bloodline of the killers. He killed all their descendants in a few weeks time; he killed some by giving them heart attacks or just scared them off to death. The priest was the last one, a descendant of Pontius Pilate.
Michael draws his long and shiny sword from his belt, the same one he once defeated Lucifer with. Some people drop their candles and run outside screaming. Benches begin to burn. Some people try to approach Michael but he repels them back with a force field around him and the priest. Many women are crying and kneeling in the floor asking him to spare the priest life. He lifts his sword and looks up into the altar where he sees the crucifix and it seems like it is bleeding.
He says before swinging his sword, “please father forgive him and receive him with love and glory.” The priest closes his eyes and Michael cuts his head off. He feels his human body like it is being burn and kneeling he sighs…”it is over.”
