The Maze The Lost Labyrinth - By Jason Brannon Page 0,37
had wooden likenesses of Michael and Lucifer, of course, along with dozens of other angels with names like Uriel, Nathaniel, Azazel, and Ashtoth. Some of them waved swords. Other brandished morning stars. Some bore an uncanny likeness to various birds of prey as their talons were bared and ready to rip the enemy to shreds.
He thought about eventually using the carvings as chess pieces even though he had no idea how to play the game. For now, however, he was content to set them up in opposition and let his mind fill in the blanks. Darrell Gene had a very bloody imagination, and soon he discovered that he didn‘t have enough carvings for all of the destruction he had in mind.
The one he worked on now was a wingless angel, a rebel who had been deplumed and cast out of Heaven because of his disobedience and allegiance to Lucifer. A misfit just like him. As Darrell Gene let the knife do its work, he found himself empathizing with the wooden figure, imagining the way it must have felt to be part of a group one moment and then painfully alone the next. It wasn’t such a difficult thing to envision. He had gone through it time and time again, moving from job to job, trying to fit in but failing miserably. In the end, he was a lot like this wingless angel, robbed of his true purpose, his true calling. The angel, unable to fly anymore, wasn’t even an angel in the truest sense of the word. Darrell Gene, likewise, scarcely felt human.
He wanted to fly, to be free of the constraints of this earth, but there was a deadly soul-condemning price for that kind of freedom. Lucifer’s army had been thrown of out Heaven for that kind of freedom. Of course, Darrell Gene already felt like an outcast and would have gladly paid any price to feel differently. If only he had half of the power that the fallen had...
Darrell Gene was confused. He’d never really had to make any hard decisions in life; doing bad things had always been an easy way out. He wasn’t good at this sort of thing and wished it would just all go away, but he knew it wasn’t that simple. Hoping to clear his mind, Darrell Gene positioned all of his wooden angels on the chess board and moved them around in formation as he mulled his options over in his mind.
He could always let things remain like they were, but that wasn’t a desirable prospect because he hated his life. That led to choice number two which involved giving Carl Beckett’s suggestion a try. Yet, he didn’t trust Christians of any kind.
How was he supposed to make any decisions when the messages were so mixed?
“Why don’t you let us decide for you?” The wingless angel startled Darrell Gene. “Let us battle it out on the playing field and see who wins. See which idea feels stronger.”
It seemed like a strange way to choose which path to take on the road of life. He’d never tried to plot the course of his future with the help of a board game.
“I suppose you and the other rebels are going to represent the choice you‘ve offered me. You’ll want me to continue down this path.”
The wingless angel nodded.
“And the others, the faithful angels, will represent a return to the church. They’ll advocate giving God one more opportunity to change my life.”
“They will,” the rebel said. “But I think you’ll find that they don’t stand much of a chance.”
“Why should I let you decide my fate? Why can’t I make up my own mind?”
The wingless angel smiled. “You’ve done a bang up job so far with your life. Or am I overlooking the obvious?”
Darrell Gene resisted the urge to smash the sarcastic little wood carving into splinters. He didn’t like hearing the truth, at least not when it was coming from a wingless fallen angel.
“You obviously made wise choices yourself. Getting thrown out of Heaven is no easy feat.”
“Easier than you might imagine,” the angel said. “And remember, I’m not here to focus on me. I’m here to help you.”
“Fine,” Darrell Gene said. “We’ll do it your way.”
The wingless angel nodded, bowed humbly, then raised his sword. All of the rebels raised their swords in unison too. Darrell Gene watched as the wooden angels rallied and prepared to fight. This felt like something right out of the Book of Revelation, and he couldn’t help thinking