Angels and Demons

angel of mercy

It was as hot as the hottest summer, the air was dry and the atmosphere humid. The ceiling fan stood motionless, as I was, having spent its own usefulness probably eons ago.

The only air you can find was being sucked by the unseen but chugging noisy exhaust in the corner of the room. I guess that helps, taking some of the heat out.

I just wished it could also take the raging fire out of my belly.

I soon realized I was having lunch in the middle of nowhere. It was a cheap and dingy restaurant that reminded me of those small Chinese places I used to frequently go some previous lives ago. The place was obviously run by thieves and scums. Believe me, I know scums when I see one. I can even smell one. Yeah, they have that distinct smell.

For some reason I knew these lowlifes. And they knew me. They must have been former associates of my father during those times when I was still young and we were desperately trying to hustle to earn a living.

They were fooling around the place acting silly and trying to be goofy. I know they were trying to humor me and make me feel better. But it simply does not amuse me. To me, they looked like thirty animated stooges decked in black and white. No colors, simply hues. I wasn’t sure if that was my way with them, but for obvious reasons, I was in a pesky mood.

And they were boring me.

Then one of the guys who looked like one of the leaders disappeared behind a frivolous curtain. When he came back out he had with him a woman of a certain age. I put my head down low, pretending not to notice. Must have been part of the business. Out of the corner of my eyes, I can see he was nudging her to where I sit, egging her like a pimp. I don’t remember what I was having, but I tried to concentrate on my plate instead.

A shadow blocked my view and I looked up. When finally saw the woman’s face, I cried. Abominable! This woman may be in the likeness of Her, but I knew that she was someone else trying to imitate Her and looked cheap doing it. How dare they bring Her, my personal Angel of Mercy, such insults!

Rage filled my entire self that I saw nothing but red. A trickle of burning sweat appeared and slowly worked down my sideburns. For a moment I saw their eyes widen as they looked at that sweat suspended in mid-air like a bubble about to implode. As soon as it dropped to the filthy earth beneath, they caught that flicker of light in my eyes and realized what was about to come. Hell.

A katana mysteriously appeared in my left hand and I went on a rampage like a madman. They managed to come up with a collection of axes and machetes from a hidden stash somewhere. I charged through an array of bodies of the scums who defiled Her precious memory. Metals and torsos clashed. Each and every thrust felt like strikes against fate who was intent on turning me into a lunatic. I can feel the slivers of blades as the enemy slices through me. But my rage filled me with extreme strength to endure the nasty stings and sharp stabs of these horrified but agitated mob.

Within just two minutes, a stenchy mixture of sweats and urine filled the room. Four mutilated scumbags lie on the floor, lifeless.

My sides and arms were dripping with blood, and my clothes torn to pieces, yet my eyes are still blazing with rays of fury. Enough to make the remaining of them scramble to find their own safety. I have sown fear. I wanted to chase them and make them realize what fear really meant, but I was numb with all the gore.

I was left alone in the room. With four bodies. Or what’s left of it.

And a memory of Her.

(To be continued)

Why Winter Came Out Cold
As Bad As Mine


  1. action-filled.

    wild imagination.

    wish i could have it again.

  2. BURAOT (Author)

    thanks Bing, t’was the prologue for the book i was about to write. 😉

  3. More blood and samurai! And please no walking on air 😉

  4. BURAOT (Author)

    no, no michael jordan or spidey. just asian gore. weheheh. prelude to the novel I was writing. sempre metaphor.

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