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merbyteslibrary · 2 years

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Heaven Sent : Chapter 2 | The Angel

Trigger Warning | Sexual Situations, Gore, Abuse, Foul Language.

His white hair draped over his white suit, his skin a perfect tan, and his eyes an unusual golden accompanied by the familiar milky white pupil as I've seen on all the other angels.

Those golden eyes stared right back at Ralph as the club seemed to come to a stand-still, I wasn't sure I could even hear the outdated pop music that normally shook the floors.

The angel cocked an eyebrow to Ralph like he was communicating with him telepathically- if that is an attribute of demons and angels I am not aware of it.

Ralph responds with a glance at the angel's chest, the angel then pulls out a small silk drawstring bag and empties it onto the table in front of him.

I've never seen so many souls in my life; they spill out onto the floor while the celestial waits patiently.

Irene drops to her knees and eagerly reaches for the souls only to have Ralph grab her by her ebony locks and pull her back.

"Irene, sweetie, what are the rules?"

"Ralph gets his cut first." She answers immediately; her hands are gripping onto his in a desperate attempt to free herself. "I just ... I just couldn't help myself." Her eyes still glanced back to the souls on the table which made the angel chuckle.

"Some fine girls you have here."

"At least I pay mine with money and not empty promises."

"They aren't empty promises, our employees are contracted to work off their sins in a set amount of days. Once their contract has been fulfilled they will have earned their place in heaven." He lifted a finger as if checking off an invisible list. "Not to mention we provide food and lodging due to lack of upfront profits."

"Not a very high turn-over rate from what I hear, a lot of contracts seem to get extended."

"I assure you my contracts are completely legal, Hellfire and Brimstone have even looked them over personally." He narrowed his gaze at Ralph and whispered, "We aren't sloppy with our deals."

"Please hire me!" Irene begged, her hands folded in front of her chest. "Please! I'll sign the contract right now, I'm the name with the highest billing here – I know I can get you more customers!" Ralph pulled her off the stage by her hair.

"Is Irene your real name?"

"It's Emily."

"Don't talk to him!" Ralph was still trying to pull her away but 'formerly Irene' was slipping her way out of his hold.

"I'll tell you what, Emily, I've got some business to take care of tonight but if you happen to find yourself at 'The Pearly Gates' please ask for Michael."

Ralph let go of Emily, "Michael? You're an-."

"Archangel, quite right, now that you are aware I trust you'll help me with the business I mentioned earlier?"

"Anything, but it'll cost you."

"Everything does, if you write down an amount once my business is through I will pay the balance."

"You angels aren't so bad after all!" Ralph laughed; Michael pulled the demon close and whispered something in his ear. The bartender and I instinctively leaned closer to try and hear what it was; it didn't take long to figure out since Ralph's eyes drifted toward me.

"Oh shit..." I whispered, Ralph was already making his way over to me as Michael remained seated- watching Missy Mustang make her entrance on the stage.

"Bonnie!" Ralph sang once he was beside me, "I want you to do whatever this man says, do you understand? I am about to bill this celestial brat for each breath he has taken in this establishment and every word he has spoken to my girls."

"Ralph I don't feel comfortable doing this."

"And I don't feel comfortable not making a profit, you're working for a demon I'm not here to make your life rainbows and sunshine – now get going." He slapped my ass hard enough that it was still stinging by the time I approached Michael.

"Good evening... My name is Bonnie how can I serve you this evening?"

"Do you enjoy that?" Michael leaned back with his arms across the back of the bench.

"I'm sorry?"

"I asked if you enjoyed that, it's a simple question."

"I don't know what you're referring to." Michael lowered his head and chuckled before leaning forward and grabbing the cheek Ralph had just left his mark on.

I gasped but kept my hands clasped together in front of me, "I was referring to having your ass slapped - do you enjoy it?"

"I don't enjoy that."

"Then why don't you tell me what it is that you do like?" His hand caressed the burning imprint on my cheek as he pulled me closer to him. "While you're at it- get comfortable and have a seat." With his free hand he patted his lap.

"I wouldn't enjoy that either."

Ralph cleared his throat loudly from the bar, I swallowed and gingerly began to sit down – Michael turned my body toward him, spreading my legs apart and sitting me down on his thighs. He started kissing my collar bone as his hands slid down my waist, finding their place on my hips.

"I'm not sure I can do this..." I whispered, almost too scared of what might happen if I object.

"Don't worry little mortal." Michael spoke against my skin, his voice was tender and reassuring.

I felt him smile as his golden eyes looked up at me. "I won't go further without your consent." He continued kissing up and down my neck.

I blurted the question without even thinking, "How do you know who I am?"

He didn't stop his motions. "I make it a point to know the names of anyone who associates with my enemies."

"Enemies?"

"Anyone who might seek to stop my crusade to get as many souls as I can into heaven."

"I wouldn't try to stop you, I'm sorry but I don't even really know you."

"Ah yes but there is this." Michael took a break from his advances and held up a black envelope between us. "Go ahead; you may want to read it."

I noticed the glued seal was already broken as I gently took it from his dark hand, the paper inside was a singed parchment with a letterhead from Hellfire and Brimstone.

Dear Bonnie Pembroke,

We at Hellfire and Brimstone are pleased to send you this letter accepting your application for position of 'Head Secretary'.

Your hire date will be Monday August 12th, please dress accordingly (i.e. business professional)

We are delighted to have you as part of the Hellfire and Brimstone family.

I gasped, placing a hand over my mouth to cover my smile. "There is no way..."

Michael tucked my hair behind my ear, "You should reject them."

"Excuse me?"

"There is a reason those kinds of positions aren't offered to humans anymore, once you obtain so much power you become corrupted by it – God could never let you into heaven after working at a place like that."

He took my hand with the envelope in it and kissed my wrist. "You could instead work at The Pearly Gates and I could make a contract for you to be in heaven by the end of the month."

I pulled my wrist free and held the envelope against my chest, "No thank you, I am going to earn my souls based on what is comfortable for me."

"If you walk into that office as a mortal, those demons will take turns on you every lunch break." He spat, his once soft voice was now dark – almost threatening. "I'm saving your ungrateful soul from having to whore yourself out just so you can make copies."

"We're done talking." I tried to stand up but Michael kept his hold on my hips and put his lips beside my ear.

"You don't want to make me your enemy."

He released his hold and I stumbled backwards with my envelope held against my chest, "It seems as though you are making that choice for me."

Michael rose to his feet and adjusted his cuffs, "Allow me to go pay your employer, sad that I'll have to pay such a price for such a mediocre slut."

I didn't even care; I had a job, a really good job. Michael could have called me anything he wanted to and I would still have a smile on my face.

"So what was on the letter he gave you? You're not headed to The Pearly Gates too?"

"Nope, I quit starting tonight! I'm Head Secretary at Hellfire and Brimstone!"

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*** New Chapters posted every Friday ***

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #women writers #romance #devil #demon #angel #archangel #merbytes #story #book #rapture #heaven #heaven sent

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frankiefellinlove · 5 years

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Bruce's eulogy for the BIG MAN:

I've been sitting here listening to everyone talk about Clarence and staring at that photo of the two of us right there. It's a picture of Scooter and The Big Man, people who we were sometimes. As you can see in this particular photo, Clarence is admiring his muscles and I'm pretending to be nonchalant while leaning upon him. I leaned on Clarence a lot; I made a career out of it in some ways.´´

´´Those of us who shared Clarence's life, shared with him his love and his confusion. Though "C" mellowed with age, he was always a wild and unpredictable ride. Today I see his sons Nicky, Chuck, Christopher and Jarod sitting here and I see in them the reflection of a lot of C's qualities. I see his light, his darkness, his sweetness, his roughness, his gentleness, his anger, his brilliance, his handsomeness, and his goodness. But, as you boys know your pop was a not a day at the beach. "C" lived a life where he did what he wanted to do and he let the chips, human and otherwise, fall where they may. Like a lot of us your pop was capable of great magic and also of making quite an amazing mess. This was just the nature of your daddy and my beautiful friend. Clarence's unconditional love, which was very real, came with a lot of conditions. Your pop was a major project and always a work in progress. "C" never approached anything linearly, life never proceeded in a straight line. He never went A… B…. C…. D. It was always A… J…. C…. Z… Q… I….! That was the way Clarence lived and made his way through the world. I know that can lead to a lot of confusion and hurt, but your father also carried a lot of love with him, and I know he loved each of you very very dearly.´´

´´It took a village to take care of Clarence Clemons. Tina, I'm so glad you're here. Thank you for taking care of my friend, for loving him. Victoria, you've been a loving, kind and caring wife to Clarence and you made a huge difference in his life at a time when the going was not always easy. To all of "C's" vast support network, names too numerous to mention, you know who you are and we thank you. Your rewards await you at the pearly gates. My pal was a tough act but he brought things into your life that were unique and when he turned on that love light, it illuminated your world. I was lucky enough to stand in that light for almost 40 years, near Clarence's heart, in the Temple of Soul.´´

´´So a little bit of history: from the early days when Clarence and I traveled together, we'd pull up to the evening's lodgings and within minutes "C" would transform his room into a world of his own. Out came the colored scarves to be draped over the lamps, the scented candles, the incense, the patchouli oil, the herbs, the music, the day would be banished, entertainment would come and go, and Clarence the Shaman would reign and work his magic, night after night. Clarence's ability to enjoy Clarence was incredible. By 69, he'd had a good run, because he'd already lived about 10 lives, 690 years in the life of an average man. Every night, in every place, the magic came flying out of C's suitcase. As soon as success allowed, his dressing room would take on the same trappings as his hotel room until a visit there was like a trip to a sovereign nation that had just struck huge oil reserves. "C" always knew how to live. Long before Prince was out of his diapers, an air of raunchy mysticism ruled in the Big Man's world. I'd wander in from my dressing room, which contained several fine couches and some athletic lockers, and wonder what I was doing wrong! Somewhere along the way all of this was christened the Temple of Soul; and "C" presided smilingly over its secrets, and its pleasures. Being allowed admittance to the Temple's wonders was a lovely thing.´´

´´As a young child my son Sam became enchanted with the Big Man… no surprise. To a child Clarence was a towering fairy tale figure, out of some very exotic storybook. He was a dreadlocked giant, with great hands and a deep mellifluous voice sugared with kindness and regard. And… to Sammy, who was just a little white boy, he was deeply and mysteriously black. In Sammy's eyes, "C" must have appeared as all of the African continent, shot through with American cool, rolled into one welcoming and loving figure. So… Sammy decided to pass on my work shirts and became fascinated by Clarence's suits and his royal robes. He declined a seat in dad's van and opted for "C's" stretch limousine, sitting by his side on the slow cruise to the show. He decided dinner in front of the hometown locker just wouldn't do, and he'd saunter up the hall and disappear into the Temple of Soul.´´

´´Of course, also enchanted was Sam's dad, from the first time I saw my pal striding out of the shadows of a half empty bar in Asbury Park, a path opening up before him; here comes my brother, here comes my sax man, my inspiration, my partner, my lifelong friend. Standing next to Clarence was like standing next to the baddest ass on the planet. You were proud, you were strong, you were excited and laughing with what might happen, with what together, you might be able to do. You felt like no matter what the day or the night brought, nothing was going to touch you. Clarence could be fragile but he also emanated power and safety, and in some funny way we became each other's protectors; I think perhaps I protected "C" from a world where it still wasn't so easy to be big and black. Racism was ever present and over the years together, we saw it. Clarence's celebrity and size did not make him immune. I think perhaps "C" protected me from a world where it wasn't always so easy to be an insecure, weird and skinny white boy either. But, standing together we were badass, on any given night, on our turf, some of the baddest asses on the planet. We were united, we were strong, we were righteous, we were unmovable, we were funny, we were corny as hell and as serious as death itself. And we were coming to your town to shake you and to wake you up. Together, we told an older, richer story about the possibilities of friendship that transcended those I'd written in my songs and in my music. Clarence carried it in his heart. It was a story where the Scooter and the Big Man not only busted the city in half, but we kicked ass and remade the city, shaping it into the kind of place where our friendship would not be such an anomaly. And that… that's what I'm gonna miss. The chance to renew that vow and double down on that story on a nightly basis, because that is something, that is the thing that we did together… the two of us. Clarence was big, and he made me feel, and think, and love, and dream big. How big was the Big Man? Too fucking big to die. And that's just the facts. You can put it on his grave stone, you can tattoo it over your heart. Accept it… it's the New World.´´

´´Clarence doesn't leave the E Street Band when he dies. He leaves when we die.´´

´´So, I'll miss my friend, his sax, the force of nature his sound was, his glory, his foolishness, his accomplishments, his face, his hands, his humor, his skin, his noise, his confusion, his power, his peace. But his love and his story, the story that he gave me, that he whispered in my ear, that he allowed me to tell… and that he gave to you… is gonna carry on. I'm no mystic, but the undertow, the mystery and power of Clarence and my friendship leads me to believe we must have stood together in other, older times, along other rivers, in other cities, in other fields, doing our modest version of god's work… work that's still unfinished. So I won't say goodbye to my brother, I'll simply say, see you in the next life, further on up the road, where we will once again pick up that work, and get it done.´´

´´Big Man, thank you for your kindness, your strength, your dedication, your work, your story. Thanks for the miracle… and for letting a little white boy slip through the side door of the Temple of Soul.´´

´´SO LADIES AND GENTLEMAN… ALWAYS LAST, BUT NEVER LEAST. LET'S HEAR IT FOR THE MASTER OF DISASTER, the BIG KAHUNA, the MAN WITH A PHD IN SAXUAL HEALING, the DUKE OF PADUCAH, the KING OF THE WORLD, LOOK OUT OBAMA! THE NEXT BLACK PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES EVEN THOUGH HE'S DEAD… YOU WISH YOU COULD BE LIKE HIM BUT YOU CAN'T! LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THE BIGGEST MAN YOU'VE EVER SEEN!… GIVE ME A C-L-A-R-E-N-C-E. WHAT'S THAT SPELL? CLARENCE! WHAT'S THAT SPELL? CLARENCE! WHAT'S THAT SPELL? CLARENCE! … amen.´´

´´I'm gonna leave you today with a quote from the Big Man himself, which he shared on the plane ride home from Buffalo, the last show of the last tour. As we celebrated in the front cabin congratulating one another and telling tales of the many epic shows, rocking nights and good times we'd shared, "C" sat quietly, taking it all in, then he raised his glass, smiled and said to all gathered, "This could be the start of something big."´´

´´Love you, "C".´´

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flameontheotherside · 2 years

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Don't Box Me In

Everyone these days wants to be in a tribe and they make it thier identity. I understand the need to belong and fit in because I allowed that to take over my life. I grew up sheltered in the suburbs. Combine that with being on the spectrum there were a lot of social hang-ups and things I didn't quite understand. I was also battling depression and anxiety at an early age (Tourrets didn't start until I was 20 and before any meds) but my mom refused to let me be medicated which I know she meant well but I should have been. I should have had support. My twin brother was a goody 2 shoes and gifted academically where I wasn't. My younger brother was a baby and he couldn't do wrong.

I had middle child syndrome (born middle of the night, middle of the week, middle of the month, middle of the year). With my twin just being 1 minute older, it meant he was the responsible one. He took that role seriously so I got most of the blame for when things went south so I was grounded a lot. I spent a lot of time indoors while my friends were outside. So I cried a lot. It was frustrating for me.

I was bullied by everyone!

My family, siblings, teachers, strangers, etc. The bullying got so bad that I needed to see a school appointed therapist. Also I had issues with speaking (still do but it's better) so they added a speech pathologist. Then I was having trouble with reading and math. So I was taking special classes that were slower and offered more attention. This went on until high school. In high school I saw just the therapists and had to retake some English and math classes.

People only saw my gullablility, awkwardness, my big glasses, and lack of understandings. Also my need to be useful by being very accommodating to others aka people pleasing. I just wanted to be normal so when I started to understand my psychic abilities by reading books about it I realized I didn't want it anymore. So my ability to see very specific futures slowly went away. They were scary because I couldn't understand why or how it was happening things like that I chalked up to hallucinations. Again, wanting to be normal and it's stayed with me even now.

So long story short, I felt I didn't belong.

People considered me to be "rich" just because I lived in the suburbs. Our schools were predominantly black and Hispanics who lived in not so nice places. I remember bringing my friends over and going to school being made fun of for not being able to do school outings because they were expensive. Yet I live in a big house in the suburbs behind pearly gates. We had a retired football or athletic guy live a couple houses down. To me it wasn't a big deal. Anyway, someone who is mixed like me often gets asked the question, "what are you?". I also often hear conflicting arguments about racial rules as well. I could get really dark just from playing in the sun, I can get real pale from staying inside. It was always hard to figure out with people.

I've seen racism on all sides. I've been confused with races (as if mixed isn't a thing) that aren't even on my 23andme dna chart. It's kind of funny but also very very annoying. It's happened before, Id go out to have fun, on the same fucking night I get asked if I'm black and asked if I was native American. Sometimes some dude would get real close to me too close for comfort, looks me up and down and says some very sexist and colorist shit. Usually black men. Sometimes old white guys want to be around me because I'm exotic. It happens to me all the time and it's very very annoying.

I started saying I'm an Alien.

Never felt like I fit in for so many reasons all mentioned above. I've become comfortable with not needing to belong to any sort of groups. I'm not lonely because I'm not alone. No one can put me in a box or box me in. Those people who insist on putting me in a box...?

I ask them things like:

Why do you need to know?

Does it really matter?

Please do not out me in a box.

I'm an alien having a human experience.

Ask God.

People who put me in a box..

...Don't understand that by doing so it makes them just racist, sexist, and\or colorist as everyone else. My ethnicity, gender, and skin color don't need to be measured as good or bad or anything. None of those things fucking matter to me. I'm not going to go by what is expected of me. I'm not going to feed into racial stereotypes. My mixed racial make up is just that; a hodgepodge of all kinds of shit. Yes there are two areas heavily concentrated in areas but I feel no real connection to any of them. The connection I feel is with others who feel like I do but I feel no need to join a group, club, clique, or anything.

I don't give a flying jack fuck-all about social-racial constructs or rules. If they help you sleep at night, by all means, I hope you take your racist, prejudiced, colorist, sexist ass to sleep with the rest of them. Today I'm proud to be myself in a world that seems to need validation from others. I feel sorry for those people stuck in a bubble like that but idk maybe I'm salty that I don't have that kind of community. It's not all that bad. I don't like big groups anyway because it's breading grounds for drama. Being under the radar and a loner works for me!

When forms ask to select race, sometimes I choose other or select any random box or boxes except for white ROFL. People wouldn't find that funny except for me. I love fucking with people like that and challenging them to think outside the box. It makes them uncomfortable. When I have conversations with people they get embarrassed (I can see the fear in their eyes) and walk away feeling like an asshole because they are asshole. They just didn't know it yet.

I feel so much free-er not needing to belong anywhere. There's no pressure to feel a certain way or be a certain way. I don't care about what people think. I just let them be assholes and go about my day with a smile on my face. Don't fucking box me the fuck in, you just can't because I will only piss you off and have fun with it 🤷‍♀️.

😘💕 Love, peace and burger grease!

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