There’s no excuse. I should have got this out to you guys on Thursday, and I am sorry. I won’t let writer’s fear get the best of me, or quit when the going gets rough. Whew. I am a strong, confident writer who can succeed and that’s that!
Anyway, here’s Part 4 of what was supposed to be Thursday night’s post. If you missed the previous post, you can view them on last week’s post Here. You will also find links to Part 1 and 2 there as well.
Endtown
So far, the story focuses on Genevieve, a young teen who died way too early. Both her and her friends find themselves in Limbo, or “the in-between,” in neither Heaven or Hell. They are offered the chance to make a difference in the war that the Angels are still fighting against the demons, who are trying to take over the earth.
Part 4:
The demon was still looking at them. “Your Master doesn’t know, does he?” He grinned, and Genevieve shuddered. His teeth were filed down to points, for gnawing on flesh.
“What are you going to do?” said Genevieve.
He looked the three of them over. “Oh, wouldn’t you like to know.”
THE demon just stood there looking at them. Gen squirmed as she felt her stomach drop to her feet. Her skin itched; it felt like a hundred stinging ants were crawling across her stomach. She was burning. Her forehead was sweating. “He’s going to burn us from the inside out!” she gasped. Gaven and Gillian both groaned suddenly and dropped to their knees.
“Make him stop!” cried Gillian as he moved onto all fours.
“Do what?” cried Genevieve as she struggled to stay upright.
“There’s nothing to do,” gasped Gaven. “We’re already dead.”
“That you are,” said a voice that was familiar, and scary at the same time.
And there he stood next to the ugly bald-headed demon, looking resplendent in his white suit, and colored sunglasses. His face was slightly rough with a day’s worth of scruff, but other than that, the master looked smooth and handsome and powerful.
“Why are you here, Lyle? I hear your master is half-way around the world right now,” he said.
And then the pain fell away. Genevieve fell onto all fours next to the boys.
The demon named Lyle turned toward the master slowly. He scrunched up his already ugly face into a scowl. “Samyaza.”
“Please,” said the Master. “Samuel is fine.”
“Your name doesn’t matter to me,” hissed Lyle. “Who are you to question where I am?”
“It matters when you hurt,” (he said as he glanced at the three teenagers,) “Those that are close to me.”
Lyle spat on the ground, and the dirt hissed and sizzled where his spit fell. “In-betweeners.”
“We prefer the term, “Watchers,” said Samuel.
“You think you scare me? You are no more welcome in heaven than I.”
“We have been pardoned,” he said and the ground seemed to swell under his feet. He was growing, no, he was rising. Genevieve saw the wings sprouting out from his back. He seemed to glow with a faint light. “Would you like to see?” he said.
“Save your holiness,” gnashed Lyle between pointy teeth. He glanced at the smoldering wreck of the train. “My work is done here anyway.” He turned into the darkness and disappeared.
“Oh man,” said Gill as he slapped Gaven on the back as they both got to their feet. “That was a close one!” But he quieted as their Master, Samuel, turned towards them.
“Stay out of trouble, I said. Watch the town, I said. See what sort of exports are coming in. Are you three incapable of following instructions? Or are you just stupid?!”
Genevieve flinched as she scrambled to her feet. His wings were still extended and although she couldn’t see his eyes beneath his green-blue sunglasses, she didn’t need to. She’d seen his eyes flash a silver and gold in a rage before.
“It was my fault.” She stepped forward as the two boys bowed their heads. “I told Gaven I thought there was something on the train. We came to investigate. Gill found us later.”
“I don’t care what happened,” said the Master. “We can’t let them get the best of us, again.” He turned his head and his sunglasses flashed a teal color. “Do you even know what happened with the train? What they blew up?”
“We were working on that when you showed up,” mumbled Gaven.
“Shut up,” said the Master, and then he jerked his head over to the wreck behind him and moved a smoldering piece of wood out of his path and set it down gently. “Well, let’s get this sorted out.”
Genevieve never seemed to know which side their Master was on. And it bothered her more than she cared to admit. Hot and cold, he ran. Like two different types of weather. It was exhausting.
Yes, the Watchers, or In-Betweeners were pardoned, but if being forced out of Heaven to live on Earth was punishment, it certainly felt like it. They were alone. One of a kind, and yet never resting. Sometimes Genevieve felt like she ran a marathon that never ended, and she was always dying of thirst.
She watched the Master turn over a burning log and pick up a smoldering box. She or the two boys would have been burned by the heat, but Samuel was a lot older than them. And he had his wings. She wondered if they would ever get a chance to earn wings.
“What is it?” she asked him.
The Master cursed and threw the smoldering box into to dirt. “Food,” he hissed.
“Those fucking bastards,” said Gaven.
Samuel’s sunglasses flashed as he turned towards him. “Watch it.”
“So?” said Gillian. “What will that do? There’s plenty of food, here.”
The Master jerked his head toward her. “Tell them.”
“Well…not really,” said Genevieve.
“What do you mean?” said Gaven. “What did we just eat a few hours ago?” he laughed. “Dirt?”
“No, and the new districts are fine,” (she glanced around) “Here in old town is different.”
“What do you mean by that?” said Gaven.
“There’s a lot of poverty here. People depend on the free shipments the train brings in. Mostly stuff from the government. Goes into food pantries and the like.”
“The free shipments cut down on stealing,” said the Master. “The government finally found out that people were starving and stealing for food and they did something about it.”
“So without the food to keep people off the streets?” said Gaven, but he didn’t expect an answer.
“Well, shit,” said Gillian. “Mama ain’t gonna like this.”
“Shut up,” said Gaven as he smacked him in the head. “There will be riots over this stuff, idiot. We got our work cut out for us.”
“My foster parents are even depending on it,” said Genevieve.
“We’ll see that they are taken care of,” said The master.
“Great,” said Genevieve as she looked down at herself. “Is that all we’re taking care of? When can I be myself again?”
She thought she saw the Master grimace before he turned away. It was his fault that she found herself in the form of a twelve-year-old. It was her punishment, he had said. She shouldn’t have been sticking her nose where it didn’t belong.
But all Genevieve had been trying to do was make a difference in this world. Wasn’t that what they were here for anyway?
To Be Continued…Tune in next Thursday for more!
Happy Writing!
A. J. Morse 