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Anthem of Man’s Dying Day
By Sarah Anne Steckel
The divine and otherworldly being hovered far up above the bustling seaside metropolitan city, completely unseen to the human eye, as he watched the ant-sized men and women as they scurried to and fro in their menial daily lives. His obsidian wings gently flapped to call forth the twilight and blanket the sky, causing the city lights to rage and burn like fire against its radiant darkness. Clutched firmly in between his hands was a leather-bound tomb, and in his free hand was a quill pen with a single vulture feather; for he wasn’t an ordinary ethereal man but an angel of death, and it was his job to write down the death of man.
Off in the distance there was the low rumbling of thunder, and from his high vantage point he was able to witness the turbulent storm as it rolled in across the eerily calm ocean front. The ocean air grew thick and heavy, as waves that only grew larger and larger began to crash angrily against the somber sandy beach. The maleficent gray clouds masked by the darkness of the night, plump and heavy with rain, opened up their mouths and spewed hail and flooding rain on the civilians down below. Chaos erupted within the streets as individual blocks of power began to experience mass power outages at a single time.
The omnipotent being began writing on the pages of his book, his keen and wary eye on the tsunami that had formed in the center of the ocean, its epic size continuing to rapidly grow as it traveled further inland. The sounds of sirens caused his attention to shift to the humans below him as they screamed and wailed, their city streets already flooding with a mixture of rainwater and sewage. What remained of the city lights flickered and died, leaving the metropolitan metropolis lifeless and dark; the city went eerily silent, the literal calm before the storm.
The tidal wave arched high above the tallest building, casting a shade even in the darkness of night across the entire island. The celestial man gracefully flapped his wings a second time, pausing briefly in his writings to watch the exact moment that the water crested over and descended down on the silent city. A bolt of lightning illuminated the sky with its bright, electrifying blue-hued brilliance, capturing the wave as it struck the tallest skyscraper, the water’s weight toppling the iron-rod building as if it were made of straw.
The humans below screamed and bellowed as the water swallowed entire buildings and blocks whole, dragging them along with their occupants helplessly into the hungry sea. Whatever had remained after the first wave was quickly demolished by the second tidal wave that bludgeoned the already welted and deliberated streets; there was less of a human rebuttal now, their cries and pleas only a murmur in his ear. He made a few more scores in his epic tomb, listening as the rumbling of thunder began to roll north.
The archangelic man smoothly flapped his obsidian wings a final time and closed his book; observing how the once lively and bustling city and all of its scurrying and busy creatures quickly perished. He could feel their restless souls as they still continued to cry on, unwilling to accept the truth that they all had died. He felt no remorse for them, this was a job that he was sent to do, and dutifully he obliged. In silence he placed his vulture quill pen behind his ear and took flight. Just like he arrived, Azrael, the angel of Death, departed the human world unnoticed but sure that he would be called back once again to dutifully record the anthem of man’s dying day.
©Sarah Anne Steckel
Please visit Sarah’s page at https://www.facebook.com/Sarahs-Writing-and-Art-2310272992552740/