The Fallen Angel by Kenneth B. Andersen

The Fallen Angel by Kenneth B. Andersen

Author:Kenneth B. Andersen [Andersen, Kenneth B.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Fantasy
ISBN: 9788797119792
Published: 2020-05-27T22:00:00+00:00


Chapter 27

Insane Angel, Insane God

“Give my best to my son,” Abraham muttered, looking down. “If only I could.”

“Sit down, children,” the other man said, nodding toward the wooden chairs around the little table. “There’s a good strong pot of tea in the kettle. I figure you could use it.”

He took out two clay cups and filled them. A pair of candles burned, the hearth was lit, and the light gave the room a soft glow.

Philip didn’t move, just shook his head. Actually, he was shaking all over. “He was an angel, but he… He tried to kill us. Why?”

“Those were his orders,” the man replied, putting down the kettle. He settled into one of the chairs and closed his eyes. His face twitched like he was still haunted by the terrible memories. “He was right. I was there that night. That awful night. I never imagined Jehovah would actually make good on his threats, but… he did. Of course he did. He was the one who hardened the Pharaoh’s heart in the first place.”

“The angel. That was him, wasn’t it?” Satina asked. “The angel who murdered all of Egypt’s firstborn children. You’re Moses.”

The old man opened his eyes and nodded. “One of Jehovah’s chosen people. Or damned, if you will. I led my people out of Egypt toward the promised land, a land flowing with milk and honey. We left a land flowing with blood. The Pharaoh had turned my people into slaves, and when I—with Jehovah’s support—asked him to let my people go, he refused. Then came the plagues. Ten in all. Insects in droves, darkness, hail, and the plague. The land was devastated, but the Pharaoh still wouldn’t let us go. Why? Because Jehovah hardened his heart. You see? The Pharaoh wasn’t the one who wouldn’t let us leave, it was Jehovah. To demonstrate his power.” Moses took a poker and stoked the fire until it sparked. The shadows danced upon his face. “He could just as well have softened his heart, couldn’t he? Then the Pharaoh would have let us go the first time. Wouldn’t that have been a greater display of might? But no. When Jehovah is set on something… And the final plague outdid the others tenfold.”

“The murder of the firstborn,” Satina said.

Moses nodded and tossed another log into the fire. The flames ate it with a sizzle. “Every firstborn son in Egypt will die, from the firstborn son of the Pharaoh, who sits on the throne, to the firstborn son of the maid-servant, who is at her hand mill, and all the firstborn cattle as well.” Those were Jehovah’s words, and it was done. He sent an angel, because he never does the dirty work himself. Later—after I came here—I heard the angel had begged to be let off the hook. Prayed even. But Jehovah wouldn’t budge, and when God orders you to do something, well…” Moses looked at the other man—Abraham—who lowered his eyes in shame.

“You do it,” he added in barely a whisper.



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