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fallen

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Fallen

Fallen

The spirit restlessly prowled the street, lurking in the corners, vile and proud. Its name was Azer.

He had been summoned from the very depths of hell and had roared back to life at the call, galloping to earth with vigour, for his time had come yet again. Having been chained to the rough and jagged rocks of Hades he had patiently bid his time.

Azer had been in existence for millenniums, right from the banishment of the angels from heaven.

He was a fallen angel. But not only had he fallen from heaven, he had fallen in love with humans.

Humans were a mystery to him. The way they thought, acted and looked was an enigma and he just couldn’t fathom what made them so special in the eyes of their creator.

He remembered his first contact with them, those millions of years ago when he had just newly been cast down from heaven. He came to earth and joined the Grigori group of angels who married mortal women and produced a monstrous line of children.

Of course he wasn’t satisfied with the monsters he created. They were tainted and not as perfect as the humans he wanted so desperately to worship him.

He remembered how he taught the men to make swords, knives and shields and the women; Ah, his beloved women who he put in, the desire for ornamenting their bodies, and painting of their faces.

But alas, he had been cast back to the abyss where he was to remain till the end of time.

“Azer………………come to my aid”      

He heard the cry stronger now, a beckoning call that drew him to its source.

 Ssssssssssssss

He swooped down to, slithering about in the corner to locate the source of the cry; and then he saw it.

It was a woman doubled over in pain, weeping bitterly. She was stoned at by an angry mob of men and women. One of the stones had found its way to her head and a stream of blood was flowing already.

“Witch” an angry woman walked to her and spat in her face.

Sarim looked up as she felt a strong wind move in her direction; she knew ‘he’ was here. Scared the angry villagers were going to stone her children next, she called on him in desperation and she knew she was going to pay heavily for that singular act.

She remembered how a few years ago she began to use her knowledge of herbs and roots to cure the villagers of various illnesses and diseases. She cured the butcher’s wife of migraine and the village medic of an agonizing pain in the back. As soon as the villagers heard this, they came in droves bringing their sick with them, all of whom she cured without charging a penny. In no time she became the new village medic and midwife.

Disaster struck when she delivered one of the women of a stillborn. The baby was born monstrous; it was bluish and had three fingers on one hand and six toes on each foot.

As soon as the mother set eyes on the creature, she shrieked in horror and fixed her blazing eyes at Sarim.

“Witch!” She cried

“You have given my child to the devil”

“Give me back my child” she clawed violently at Sarim.

The villagers hearing the new development with the medic converged at the square. Everyone pointed a finger or two at her accusingly, telling different tales of how she had cured them of various illnesses and how they had always suspected her of sorcery and witchcraft but had no proof until now.

In no time, they unanimously came to an agreement. The Witch deserved to die.

“THE WITCH MUST DIE!” the crowd chanted furiously as they hurled stone after stone at her battered body.

Such was the chorus that filled the air and Sarim knew she had no chance.

The wind blew violenty, lifting roofs and trees alike. Azer had come.

The mob however was unperturbed by the atmospheric change. As far as they were concerned, the raging wind was additional proof that Sarim was a witch who deserved to be stoned to death and as was also their culture, burned on a pyre.

Death by purification they called it.

“Do you know who I am?” Azer whispered in Sarim’s ear

“Yes, you are Azer, and you will bring vengeance at my command”

The winds howled louder and the trees danced in unison.

“What have you to offer?” Azer asked greedily, his foul breath caressing Sarim’s ear.

Sarim was no stranger to requests of this sort. She knew the price she had to pay for her children’s safety and nodded affirmatively.

“Yes, yes, my daughters”, she cried. “Take them; make them more powerful than their mother ever was. Protect them and they shall serve you”

Azer chuckled gleefully; his luck had shone yet again. He had one more chance with humans and he wasn’t going to pass on it.

“What would you that I do to your enemies?”, he asked

Sarim looked on at the sight before her, the angry winds shrieked violently and dust had enveloped the square, but yet her accusers persevered. Raising her head, she screamed with all the strength she had left.

“Azerrrrrr…..DESTROY MY ENEMIES. MAKE THEIR FAMILIES WEEP WITH GRIEF JUST AS MINE HAVE”

Azer shrieked in delight. His eerie laugh sounded like a continuous clang of metal plates. It was spine-chilling and had sinister ring to it, a rising crescendo of evil. He swirled around in a whirlwind leaving a thick curtain of dust in his wake.

The villagers looked around in terror as the grounds beneath them began to quake violently. From afar the rocks from the mountain nearby began to separate from each other; one by one they came rolling down the hill. Seeing this, they were frightened to their core, they tried to escape but the rocks were faster. Mammoth sized rocks crushed them to a meaty death.

The heavens wept.

Azer looked down at the chaos he created, he was going to punish humans for how they had rejected him all those years ago, but first he had to find Sarim’s daughters. They were his instruments and through them man was going to pay gravely his crimes.   

Read also: http://debybydesign.com/ashawo-no-be-work/                                                                       

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