Angel Of
By Glen Held © 2007
And Michelle looked down at the assembled, adoring crowd below her and knew it was good. Now, if only, John, would shut up. Did he think he was the only one to ever have a headache?
“Send them away!” Her husband writhed on the bed, holding a pillow around his head. “Ever since that god-damned stain arrived, my headache keeps getting worse!”
“Deal with it!” Michelle left the room, slamming the door behind her.
Although angry over John's behavior, a smile lit up Michelle's face as she descended the staircase. No way was she going to let her stupid husband keep her from milking this for all it was worth. If things kept going the way they were, she'd not only be out of debt, but have more money than she ever dreamed of. And the first thing she would do was cut loose from John. Let him go hunt with his buddies all the time now instead of once a month.
As the media was reluctant to let her pass (even though it was her own home) she had to elbow her way through them. She arrived in her dining room where the great magician was studying the shape the dark shape of a four inch high angel on her wallpaper. After a few more seconds, he smiled and turned towards the cameras and microphones.
“Obviously a fake,” he said. Her heart dropped, but quickly cheered again at the rest of his words. “Although I can't figure out how they did it.”
“It's an act of God!” the famous Reverend roared. Michelle had invited him here in case the magician was too skeptical. “Shame on you, sir! An angel appears on Earth and all you want to do is disprove it!”
“It's a stain on the wall shaped like an angel,” the magician proclaimed loudly, knowing the publicity from this would be good for his upcoming tour.
“A stain that bleeds blood!” the Reverend yelled, coming to stand next to the magician. “It's the hand of God, I tell you!”
“Bleeds blood?” The magician laughed. “Your “Angel” and it's “blood” were formed by a rusty, leaking water pipe.”
“Blasphemy! God works in mysterious ways.”Michelle was only barely listening to all this. Instead, she was looking over the crowd inside and outside and wondering how much more she could charge people for seeing the “angel”.
When the shape first formed, the only thought Michelle had was that this was something her lazy, doofus of a husband had done. But then the reddish liquid that sometimes oozed out of it convinced her that this was a plumbing problem. Because John wasn't good at anything, she had called a plumber.
The plumber, who wore a cross slightly smaller than the original one, immediately dropped to his knees in front of the shape. Shortly thereafter, his religiously fanatical family arrived. Word spread quickly after that, with more and more people arriving to see the ‘Angel'. Michelle cursed herself for not thinking of charging people until the third day. Within a week she had been on local television twice and had now gone national with the involvement of the great magician and the famous reverend.
Maybe she could start selling refreshments to the people on line? Possibly angel's food cake.
“This is fake and I'll prove it,” the magician said, his words causing all attention to focus on him. “Watch the mark of the stigmata.” And then the magician put his hands up high, blood pouring out of his palms.
That brought gasps from the crowd and a silence broken by the Reverend. “Trickery!”
The magician pulled a little red packet off of his hand. “Of course it is,” he said. “So is that stain.”
“You can't prove that,” the Reverend answered.
“Shut up,” a voice called and all turned about to see a disheveled John standing at the top of the stairs.
“No-one can silence the word of the all mighty,” the Reverend said.
“If that stain of yours is an Angel,” the magician continued, “let's see it perform a miracle.”
Uh oh, Michelle didn't like where this was going.
“Shut up!” John said louder than before.
“Get back in you room!” she snarled, and he did. Oh, how she would make him pay for this.
“I have faith in the Lord,” the Reverend said. “Tell me what you want it to do?”
Michelle couldn't believe what she was hearing. The Reverend actually thought the angel could work miracles? She had known the man was a bit “out there”, but this was completely crazy.
And what was she going to do when the angel didn't perform?
Before the magician could answer, there was the sound of things being thrown about upstairs. Everyone looked up and then at Michelle. “My husband's suffering from a severe headache.”
The magician smiled at the Reverend. “Have the stain make her husband feel better.”
“Done,” the Reverend said.
“Now wait a second,” Michelle began, but the Reverend admonished everyone to silence. Seeing no other choice, she kept quiet. John would be very sorry for this.
“Oh, Angel, hear your humble servant.” The Reverend put his hands together as he bowed towards the stain. “I ask you in the name of the Lord to bring peace to one of your tortured souls.”
Before he could go any further, the door to the upstairs bedroom opened and Michelle's smiling husband walked out. There were gasps from those assembled.
“It's a miracle!” the Reverend stammered, while the magician looked on with an open mouth.
“The angel stopped the headache,” her husband said, tears of joy in his eyes.
“The angel said it will stay stopped if I did something for it.”
From behind his back, John pulled his hunting rifle which he aimed at his wife.
“Peace to a tortured soul,” he said. “This is for you Angel of Death.”
Then he pulled the trigger … and the blood on the wall became real.
The End
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