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  • Writer's pictureBelinda Lane


July 23, 2021


Written by J. Anthony Spencer

Then: (Shortly after the meeting): The Director and Michael walk from the conference rooms into a well-lit door less hallway. After a few moments The Director speaks. “Michael, as I stated in the conference room, we are dealing with nothing new. It’s just that the world has come to a juncture when lives are being lost at an alarming rate. The United States hasn’t been this divided in a long time. Lines are being drawn where neighbors and neighborhoods are being literally torn apart by beliefs with little substance. Leadership seems more of a suggestion than actually reality.” Michael nods but says nothing. If he has an opinion, he keeps it to himself. “It’s one thing that events play out naturally in what many think is an eternal struggle. It’s another thing when people, push agendas for selfish reasons that hasten an eternal struggle that has an ending. We know not the time, nor that hour. But this struggle will end. Weapons exist can destroy this world a dozen times over and the people who hold the keys aren’t responsible. The United States Congress meets tomorrow, and already short-sighted men may be pushed with little or no prodding into something that could manifest into a civil war. I need you to observe and be ready if there is an undue influence from the other side.”

By the end of the conversation they have reached the end of the hall, and Michael sees a door has appeared. As the Director grabs the knob of the door, he looks at Michael who remains silent. Michael understands the gravity of the situation and knows there are truly no words, there is only compliance. “I will let you handle this as you see it. Use any of the other agents if you wish. But there has to be a positive shift.” Michael turns on his heels. Neither the Director nor Door are visible as he walks back the way they came.

Now: The US Capitol: Congress is still in a heated debate. While the shadow figures located throughout auditorium slowly make their way towards the center of the floor where Michael stands. Though he is not in The Shimmer, neither Michael nor the wraiths are on the earthly plane of existence. “The mortals are of no help to you. And you have come alone. I am sure that by the time you call in for help it will be too late.” Michael extends both hands. The well-manicured suit is replaced by battle robes. In his right hand appears a flaming sword. There is a rush of air around his left hand as another figure materializes beside him. He is a mature man with thinning hair; no particular ethnicity is evident. In fact, every few seconds his appearance seems to shift. Most of the Divine, thoughtlessly seems to shift into the people or nationality of the place they inhabit at the time. In truth is not the Divine that changes, only the perception of those who are looking upon them. A few like Agent Love have appearance shifts, that are very specific to those that look upon them.

Michael's smile widens as he looks upon his new companion, as if knowing there is more to come. “Who is this old man and how do you expect him to help you battle back my forces” asks Miss Information with barely controlled anger. “This is Scripture”. Around Scripture the air waves again and a twin appears back to back with him. “And that is Prayer”. Just as the first of the wraiths reach the men, their hand clasp together and their lips move. Suddenly, the shapes are repelled as hit by physical blows. Scripture and Prayer continue almost silent utterances that push the beings from him and the humans nearest them. Michael holds his sword over his head and swings. Any dark being that it touches is immediately obliterated. More and more of the shadows flood the room only to meet the same dismal fate.

The battle rages on for what seems to be hours until Miss Information yells out. “ENOUGH. Michael this is not over. Many of these mortals didn’t require much prodding. Their souls are already dark. A push here, a conspiracy there. They practically did my job for me. A perceived threat nationally or domestic. The color or ethnicity of a once neighbor. Black Lives Matter, Blue Lives Matter. So called patriots, that have more in common with the ideology of other nations than the country of their birth. They want to maim, to kill to subjugate. I just provided a false focus that they believe is real.” Our job is done and believe me yours is just beginning. And you are at a deficit. “The room clears of shadowy beings leaving only Miss Information.

“Michael! You know you are on the losing side, right? The rules are not set in stone. Look at my master. If he did not become who he is, you would be a minor angel.” Michael laughs out loud. “You seem to be living up to your name and station. You need a fact checker. While he may be stronger now, I was the one that beat him back and tossed him from Heaven. It’s documented in the Book of Revelation. You would do well to read the Good Book, if you can.” Her face betrays for only a second Michael’s retort. “Of course I was not there, but I can’t dispute what you say. He is much stronger now. But correct me if I’m wrong, but it took more than you to take him down. As I hear it there were seven Archangels, now there is only you. That is one heck of a price to bring down the angel once named Samael.” Michael bristles slightly at his name. And if his face betrayed what he was feeling, Miss Information does not show. It. “We can continue to debate this for hours. But I am needed elsewhere. You will not find it easy to undo what is happening here. I did assist in pushing it along. But understand this. A lie is not a lie, if you believe it to be true.” With that declaration she also fades from sight.

Still unseen by the members of Congress Michael realizes from the debate that Miss Information was correct. The language was adversarial and tense. He looks at Scripture and Prayer now silent, still back to back with hands folded before them. There is a brief sound of air filling a void and only Scripture stands there. Michael expresses his gratitude to Scripture who continues to stand mute. “Thank you my friend, your help was greatly appreciated. I leave you to your own obligations. Until we meet again.” For the second time there is the sound of air filling a void and Michael is alone. He contemplates for several seconds and then utters. “Truth and Trust.”

Two beings step into the room. The familiar (Agent) Trust and a fair skinned female carrying a book under each arm. One of the books seems to be some sort of legal tome with thousands of pages. The other appears to be a perfect Gutenberg Bible. Rumor is that it is the original, the first of only 49 that are known to exist. And of that number only 21 are complete. The owner is Truth. She is the first to speak. “Hail, Archangel. How can we be of assistance? But before Michael can answer he sees Blind Justice materialize over the human throng for the briefest of moments before disappearing. He pushes down the feeling of dread and answers Agent Truth. “This American Congress are in a debate that left to continue uninterrupted could lead to war. They have been spurred by untruths. But many of them harbor prejudices and hostilities born within their own psyches. The Adversary is trying to accelerate The Timetable. We must not let that happen.” Agent Trust who has remained quiet closes his eyes and expands his realm of influence outward. Michael and Truth turn towards him, realizing what is happening. The brow of Trust starts to furrow and his face reflects a mixture of stress and pain. After considerable time he opens his eyes. “Michael, there is nothing I can do here. In order for me to “work” with a mortal he has to be open to trust. There is none of that here. Truth?”

Truth focuses her attention on this supposed institution of the “greatest country” in the world. Despite the considerable heftiness of both books she holds the bible outward and it disappears. “Sadly the words of The Good Book will fall on deaf ears. I will appeal to “their truth”, which is the legal system. She opens the remaining book and the pages turn themselves stopping momentarily at different junctures. At each of those junctures, she reads the passages filled with legal jargon out loud. As she does Michael and Trust notice one or two of the senators’ pause. Another declaration, another pause. This goes on for hours and hours. Somewhere around 10pm. She shuts the book and the noise is now just a loud mummer. “It’s all I can do Michael. We don’t have a win here. This may only be a lull in the storm. I have tried to undo what Miss Information and her team did, but she is right. She only put a bigger flame to what was already smoldering.” Michael looks at Congress that seems to be finally ending the session and preparing to head home. For just an instant he looks over their heads, and seeing nothing returns his attention to his companions. “I thank you for your efforts.” Truth turns on her heels and steps into The Shimmer.

“Michael, I will take my leave too. But I have a question to ask.” Michael knows the question. He knows that may have betrayed himself on one of two occasions. “You have lent your assistance here. How can I deny you?” says Michael. Drawing in breath (though he really does not need to breathe) “I think you may have seen something earlier. Something that you again just looked for. Was it something I missed here?” Michael pinches the bridge of his nose, a clearly human gesture before speaking. “When you arrived here, I thought I saw Lady Justice appear briefly then disappear. She is not of The Divine, but more of a conceptualized entity. I looked to see if she would reappear after the monumental undertaking of Truth.” There is no joy in Agent Truth’s smile. “If that is what you saw, maybe it’s a good thing when she did not reappear.” Michael looks up and says simply. “Quite the contrary. When she appeared her scales were not even, but tipped slightly to the left side. Meaning, the scales were not in our favor!”

TO BE CONTINUED……. in August 2021

Thank you for joining me for Friday at Sundown. Remember… Just Breathe!

Over the next couple of months, I will be presenting mostly stories only. Written by

J Anthony Spencer and myself. Again I appreciate your support (Likes, Share and Comments).

You can also find me on Facebook and Google under fridayatsundonw4 Thank you!

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