“Thunders and Lightning”

See, they were there when I woke up this morning

I'll be dead before the day is done

{ Seven Devils, Florence + The Machine }

The sky was roaring; thunders and lightning clashing in a superlative fashion. The clouds crumbled like quiches, the darkening of sky at hand, and the madness of the earth was substantial it was almost palpable. It was, blatantly, a frightening night to all creatures below and a complete terror even to the supernatural. And the repulsion won’t stop unless the Head of Guardian Angels became tranquil.

“I told you! You have to be careful!” the Head breathed in utter fury, heaven forbid to obstruct the ball of flames that nearly formed by the cause of her rage. “I gave you multiple chances, lady.”

The lass in lower rank shivered in horror. She had never seen the Head be this angry. And now she is all eyes, and most of all, prominently the reason. She failed to speak in return, though words wanted to spill out, she couldn’t for she considered her absence of right to.

And she realized that to abide with silence was wide of the mark when thunders groaned in superior tension. She gathered herself closely to the modest space she occupies, still no words coming out.

“Are you going to remain in silence or not?” the Head said furiously. “You can’t even look me in the eye, you scoundrel!”

The roaring went louder and almost unbearable. God pity the creatures below. The Head had called her a scoundrel! To her kind, no words could be more insulting and painful. She was labeled as the worst, the villain, the unwanted. But then, she deserved it.

“Bless me, Lord!” the Head cried. “You are no worthy of space here above. You’ve been the worst novice I’ve encountered!”

Then it hit her. The Head was in every disposition to accuse her as the filthiest, most stubborn creature to ever step above. The anguish crept in. stung, hot tears pooling in her eyes and head throbbing from the confusion and guilt whirling inside her brain. She was blameworthy of the resentment she’s been receiving from the Head. She failed, once again, to take responsibility of the task that had been given to her. It was all her fault. And she’s ready to take the consequence ahead – or not.

Her bottom lip trembled in fear. “I’m sorry!”

“Sorry!” the Head spat in disgust. “You let the human creature die without fulfilling his last wishes! You weren’t even on his side! Didn’t you understand what I had told you?”

The lass’s response was prompt. “I was appalled by the sudden turn of unfortunate events, my Head.”

“Don’t give me that reply, scoundrel!” Hearing the spiteful term, the called scoundrel felt a jab straight to her chest. She was hurt, deeply hurt. “You were fooling around! You didn’t focus enough on your task!” the Head paused. Then her tone lost an octave asking, “Can you take it?”

Sensing that there were more words to come, the lass stayed in silent and prayed that the Head won’t say it. But even God must be furious that He didn’t answer her little plea.

“Can you take that the last thing the old man did before he breathes his last is to witness your failure?”