The Bitter-sweet Lament of a Cherub

The Bitter-sweet Lament of a Cherub is a supernatural romanance piece between an angel and his earthly female lover. For every guilty pleasure there is a price. Enjoy...

 1200 B.C.E

 My predicted dirge I recollected on the last few somber moments of my life: You are sealing up a pattern full of wisdom and perfect in beauty. In the Garden of Eden you proved to be… and every precious stone was your covering, and in the day of your being created they were made ready. You are the anointed cherub that is covering…You were faultless in your ways from the day of your being created until unrighteousness was found in you…I shall put you as a profane and destroy you… with fire. (Ezekiel 28: 11-19)

  I am Chileab of the cherubim. On the holy mountain of the God of gods I have stood; and in the midst of the fiery stones of his court I have walked about bare footed in service to him. Or at least I did until that faithful evening, and all it took was one lustful look, and I was spell bounded- bounded by the shackles of a feeling I knew nothing of …love.

  From my post at the east of Eden I sighted her drawing water from the river Pishion and I was drawn; materializing from my cherubic form, I alighted behind her.

  “You know, water is not the only thing you can pull from river Pishion,” I said.

  She was startled when she spun to see me. She was incredibly voluptuous in her curvaceous glory with long, raven dark hair and emerald eyes. Her beauty was almost unnatural as my individuality- piercing. A mortal rarity I appreciated.

 “What?”

“Here, I’ll show you,” I said taking her tender unsteady palm. “Bear with me, I’m not going to hurt you.” And her expression softened a tad bit. Taking her wee palm into mine, I dipped both our arms down the shallow bank of the river, stirring her palm to pull a palm load of coarse sand. And as her palm surfaced, the coarse sand washed back down to reveal tiny pieces of fine gold covering her palm. “See?”

  Her eyes widened with disbelief. “Magical…How did you do that?”

  “Look around you; Havilah is surrounded with the finest of treasures- there are also bdellium gum and onyx stones.”

  “I know of those…but gold…” She said pausing. Her eyes hewed with wonder as her cheek reddened. “Who are you?” 

  “I am Chileab. And you?”

  “Athalia of Havilah,” she said. “You have a strange, but beautiful name and… aura. Where do you hail?”

  “Very far from here- I am passing through to Shur.” I lied.

  “I am forever grateful for the fortune you found me today,” she said stashing the tiny pieces of gold in her bag.  “If you wish, please come to my shack and have your feet washed and your heart refreshed with round cakes before continuing on your journey.”

  “Thank you for your hospitality. I’ll accept.”

  “Follow me; my shack is only paces from here.”

  I watched as she led the way to her shack. Her steps were beautiful and of elegance- like a sashay.

  When we reached her shack, she bade to me seat. “Please.” Why she continued on to the interior. The shack was poor, but healthily well-kept and the few furniture in it well-arranged and adorned with clean linen, and the aromatic plants of the woods perfumed the shack.

  Moments later she arrived with a bowl of water and an alabaster case of perfume. And crouching, she wetted her linen and began to wash my feet with water and perfume.

  My head gloomed with dew and the locks of my hair with the drops of the night as a foreign aching need seared through me. “Thank you,” I said cupping her face by her pomegranate temple. Her beguiling round eyes stirring my soul.

  “What are you?” Her tone was poignant. “Your appearance is unnatural… like a bronze god.”

  “I thought I was.” I felt weak and breathless.

  “Can I…” She said closing up our nearness. Her eyes riveting, my inwards parts became boisterous within me…

  Her plum lips possessed mine; they tasted like honey and beneath her tongue I found milk, as she drew me into a maelstrom of passion and ecstasy…

  An eclipse to the others of my kind…dark and unnatural. Forbidden.

  But between us, an explosion of impulsive brilliance.

 

 I awoke the next morning under the soft pelt coverlet of her bed- Athalia’s naked soft curves cuddled up beside mine. She smiled in her sleep, her eyes half open, and an arm over her head. “You are awake.          May I ask something of you?” she said.

  “What is it?”

  “Many mysterious sights and things creep this territory of Havilah, but you- there is something strange and wonderful about you… what are you? You did not tell me when I first asked.” She said tracing circles on my chest.

  “I am one who can make your wildest wishes and dreams come true.” I smiled.

  “Really; Like what?”

  “What if I said…I could build you an island and by dawn and nightfall you will bask in gold, ruby, topaz, jasper, chrysolite, onyx, sapphire; and emerald even like those of your eyes.”

  She laughed. “And I will name the Island…Tyre.”

  “Tyre it is then. And the northern lights will portrait our love kiss in its flowing ribbons and swirls, telling our love story to the world…”

  “I know nothing of northern lights or its ribbons; what is that?”

 “I’ll show you...your beauty will be untouched by age…”

  “Enough of your sweet words, I will forget reality if I remain by your side.” She placed a kiss on my chin, then rised, drawing her shift over her breast. “I will go make you those round cakes I promised.”

  And so we were; one night turned several nights and days to weeks, and weeks to months until we moved to the solitude of an Island. There I built her Tyre at the entrances of the Mediterranean Sea; a splendor of perfect prettiness; her royal vessels I made out of juniper, cedar and ivory in cypress wood; and the mighty trees of Bashan. And with time Tyre became the mother of trade exchange from the abundance of our goods: gold, silver, copper and many other valuables; and in all kinds of precious stones the queen of my heart and the queen of the Mediterranean did bath, her beauty unflawed by age.

 But today affronted our fairytale…

  Athalia stood on the terrace of her villa overlooking the Mediterranean; she watched as the wild untamed sea clash against the cliffs. I sneaked up behind her sliding my arms around her waist, pulling her against my body.

  “See where time has brought us…picture perfect- the sea- our vessels- our people.”

  She dropped her head on my shoulder. “Your words of endearments; if only they could bring soothing to the hurt I experience during the nights with you.”

  “The body dances vigorously according the wanting of the rhythm played to it,” I said blissing her neck with kisses. I watched her face slowly creased with a frown. “What’s the matter?”

  “The sea, hon…”

  I raised my head to look and the blood in my veins instantly went cold. Ten figures emerged from the waves- not ordinary men, but a distinguished class of my kind- the Profaners.

  They emerged from the sea like a pack of wolves with a calm and deadly swagger that spiraled chills as they stalked for the terrace. The skies cracked with a loud thunder and the air went still at what was to ensue.

  They were here to take me.

  The profaners had been unleashed against me.

 “Get inside, Athalia.” The words were still in my mouth when a fierce wind threw me from the terrace to the sands of the beach below; I hit the sand with such lethality my bones shook. I heard Athalia scream.

  I recoiled to my feet to charge, but I was put back to the sand with a deadly blow and they kept coming physically and impalpably from the one same one, while the others stood stoic as spectators; and kept on until there was no fight left in me and I was shackled.

  And look! A war chariot pulled by fiery horses came and a separation was made; I was dematerialized. My human form they left to the sand to burn and me in my cherubic form they bounded to the chariot, and then the chariot ascended into a windstorm along with me and my profaners; all the while Athalia was seeing it, and she kept weeping: “My love, my darling!” And she did not see me anymore.

  My dirge came to pass.

  For any guilty pleasure there is a price and mine, the pits of dense darkness to be reserved for judgment…

  Tartarus.

Author's Note

The Bitter-Sweet Lament of a Cherub is a historical fiction inspired by the scriptural text of Ezekiel 28: 11-19. “Cherub” as the name of the main character in the story is an order of angelic creatures of high rank called Cherubim having special divine duties, distinguished from the order of the Seraphs. In Genesis 3: 24 it is stated that cherubs were posted at the east end of the Garden of Eden entrance with a flaming blade of sword “to guard the way to the tree of life.”
Lands such as Tyre, Havilah, Shur, and Bashan and the river Pishon are actual bible locations, some lost in time.
The bible is filled with numerous prophetic pronouncements and dirges, some illustrative, and that of Ezekiel 28: 11-19 might not be what is portrayed by the story The Bitter-Sweet Lament of a Cherub as to the significance of the scriptural verse itself.

Reviews

[Rich Weas]

Fantastic. The way you described the figures was well done. It made s so as that the reader was there with the characters. Very finely crafted.It is interesting I realize you are using the bible to create the setting, it is well done. You have a way with your choice of words.