Not Beyond Repair

Think your absolutely helpless... Think again.

Not Beyond Repair

By: Alisha Shangraw

I watch in apathy as the last good angel flees from my presence, taking with them all the good things that I have ever known as well as their brilliant light.

I am alone for a minute in stark solitude and darkness. I fill with void, but then I see them coming. The horrors of the immortal society�"demons or fallen angels�"which ever you prefer to label them, and they fill the emptiness with not peace as the angels did, but an electrifying energy, something that cannot be explained.

They enter the door that the good angels had exited through. They are horrendously magnificent and bringing with them their own light, a dim shadowy glow.

Gazing upon them as they move with disturbing grace feels like a sin and I cast my eyes immediately to the floor beneath me, which is more like a black misty cloud. It was white before the angels left.

The air is thick with a pleasant aroma, not a touch too sweet.

They stare at me with interest as I surrender my soul. I have given up. Just as the last barrier which separates me from them falls I see a flurry of wings sweeping in my direction, I cannot move.

I know I should be afraid of them but my heart is so past beating that I cannot care less. They are within seething proximity and I see malicious ambitions and diabolic desire in their eyes but I am the one who let them in. It is obvious what their intentions are, and I wait for them to proceed.

Suddenly a huge hand is crushing my windpipe, dangling me over the fine line of conscience and sleep; exactly what I did not want.

Feeling my body going limp I know I must finally be slipping into eternal sleep, the original purpose as to why I allowed them access to my soul, to destroy what I could not. However like a cruel game I see distorted figures again and their dim glow is distinguishable.

Naturally I gasp for air but reprimand myself for it. My desire is to die. The point of death by asphyxiation is to suffocate from the lack of oxygen, not to gasp at it when I get the chance. It prolongs the death and increases the unnecessary suffering.

But these are heartless and soulless creatures. This is what they do and who they are; they are the definition for evil and all the synonyms that accompany it. This to them is entertainment. Why not torture the people before they lay in an untouchable peace till the end of time?

Regrettably I am still alive as thoughts trickle through my mind about other ways of death that would be so much more morbidly enjoyable. To drown, at least once a decent amount of water gets in my lungs I am as good as dead anyways. Or be burned alive, after a while the pain fades meaning death is enveloping me in a cold caress. Then there is asphyxiation with a rope, at least the pressure is constant and eventually…

My world is growing dark; I must be slipping into sleep, the long awaited sleep. Slowly I muster the courage to address my tormentor, “Please choose one or the other, let me live or kill me.” The words are weak and pathetic as an unusual sensation settles over me. Is it finally death? Or the will to survive?

It must be the rekindling of an ember of survival that refuses to die as I feel my killer sucking the will that I have to fight the sleepiness off. To no avail can I beat them by myself. I press my lips together before murmuring the only life giving word I know, “Jesus.”

With that one name, a horrible shriek pierces the air, a sound so horrific that I can not believe it comes from something so beautiful, and my body is dropped. My body has never felt so much relief as I gasp for air. But my body’s saviour, oxygen, is in no comparison to the relief my heart and soul feels as I see Jesus’ light chasing the last demon away. The joy I feel as I stumble toward Him and now tenderly He catches me in His everlasting arms is marvellously indescribable. How can a sinful mortal be loved by an eternal God, I will never know as I weep at His mercies in His embrace.