Updated: Jul 31
She walked through the club. Stale liquor, sticky floors, sweaty revelers, she loved this scene; dirty and electric. The bass fueling the rush, no one stood in her way. A spell of subtlety, untraceable magic. As she made her way across the dance floor, no one knew why they were moving out of her way, but they did. The sea of revelers parting, she soaked up the scene’s power.
Her eyes were locked on the man in the red leather jacket. Tight black pants, the stink of his cologne only fueled her desire to finish the job. Almost there, she lifts her right hand in the air, palm reaching for the ceiling. In a flurry of pink and gold lights, a Louisville Slugger materializes, lending her its power.
Pulling back, she readies her swing, both hands on the bat.
“Hey,” she says, her voice reaching only him. He turns around, drink in a hand, half-smile leftover from a joke just told. She swings for his center, sending him flying back into the bar, two women flee, avoiding the impact.
She looks down at the man’s crumpled body, knocked out from the blow, making the rest of this easy. With a few flicks of her fingers, the club falls silent and all come to a complete stop. She reaches for the collar of his shirt, and pulls his soul loose of the body. The soul, heavier than the body itself, was easy to lift to its feet. She had done this enough times, the weight of a human soul was nothing to her.
“Wake up,” she says blowing gently into his face. He starts, she lets him go and watches him stumble back, but he catches himself.
“What’s going on?” he asks as he takes in the club, frozen in time.
“We have work to do, and we need to go.” She watches his eyes dart left and right like a frightened animal, as he turns, she goes to grab him, but it’s too late, he sees it.
“Is- “ His eyes open in terror. “Is that me?” The question comes out feebly.
“Yes,” she sighs. She usually tries to avoid this part because it takes too long to calm the humans down when they see their bodies.
The man starts to panic, and it was becoming difficult to continue holding time.
“Hey, Nicholas. Pay attention to me.” One of her hands still holding the bat, she went to pull at the man who flinched and jump away.
“Did you kill me?” He cries out.
“You’re not dead Nicholas. Now, if you’d follow me, I can explain everything.” Unlike most angels, she rarely had the patience for human dramatics. Using the bat, she waved it like a wand, a white door manifests.
“Oh God, I really am dead.” Hearing his name irked her.
“Okay, I’m not doing this anymore.” She takes him by the hand and begins to drag him by the door.”
“Are you taking me to hell?” She can hear the terror in the voice. She enjoys this. Turning with a smile on her face.
“Nicholas,” she starts sweetly, “tell me, why do you think you’re going to hell?”
“I-I-I wasn’t going to use it. One of the guys gave it to me, but I wasn’t going to. I-”
“Well, at least you’re self-aware enough to know this has to do with the drugs in your pocket.” She said with a sneer.
“I would never-”
“But here you are, with those drugs, with your eyes on a pretty girl.”
“I guess we’ll never know what you really would have done.” She says as the door behind her begins to open, the light blinding. The man begins to shield his eyes.
“Now let’s go, we can talk about all of this when we get there.”
With one quick pull and toss, she sends Nicholas flying through the door as she walks through behind him. The club falls back into motion, a woman in a tight red dress screams at the sight of the unconscious man at her feet, but he’s not dead. Not yet.