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The world was silent. Not in the absence of sound, but within the true silence that exists in the beauty of nature. A low hum of consistent static rolled through the streets, ebbing and flowing with the breeze. Passing through alleys and swelling over dusty park benches, ancient pages rose and fell. Swaths of dust swirled, carrying with them the quiet of simplicity. Leaves rustled and birds chirped, echoing melodies from eons past warped through the refrains of new generations.
The ecosystem lived in a harmonious balance. Nothing disturbed the eternal crescendo of endless lives, born from the hushed fall of humans?much like the cycle of water?returning to Yren from their time in the skies. Even the muted screams of haunted avenues, carefully parked vehicles that dotted the causeways?their flight stolen away by time and disuse?and great monuments forged from steel and glass like rusted staccatos stretching into the blue oblivion above, hummed in time with the world that surrounded them.
This great score, blending the faded, discordant rhythms of the past with the slow, swelling tempo of the new world, found within itself an anomaly. Despite the smooth passage of the currents of time, a single reed, bent near to breaking split the waters. This note was not harsh, nor did it grate. This wandering tone, ancient in its own right, swayed with the flow, allowing the waters to glide past, remaining barely perceived as it drifted along. This wanderer rarely stopped, except to listen.
In what had once been a bustling city erupting with energy, waves of electric power skipping from one rooftop to another, the wanderer stopped. They set their hat to the ground, sitting with eyes closed and palms to the crumpled concrete and opened their soul. It sang. It sang with the quiet confidence of age: long, bowed rhythms that spilled from a cello. It was a simple baseline, mellow and serene; each note melded comfortably into the next. The soul, laid bare, teased its beautiful tone, pleading with the sounds and rhythms without to listen and reciprocate. It played and waited, searching the annals of history engrained in the tapestry of notes.
The wanderer foraged through the melodies, picking them apart as they reacted to the wanderer?s soul: a swift legato played as the wind blew past, tiny trills with each twirling of a leaf. They plead with the long wholes of buildings swaying, while empty rests created gaps between each ant as it worked, carrying food back to their dens. They delved into the vast networks of arpeggios accenting tiny paws crawling their way through tunnels. In all of these, there was nothing. No sign of those the wanderer had once left. Those who had existed eons ago.
Those melodies had been long forgotten by time. The swift, familial rhythm of home had finally vanished. And so, the wanderer sat, soul bare to the music of the world, craving a memory.
None came.
With head bowed, a sigh escaped their lips: a singular sound. It rang out, echoing in the hollow of their chest, defeated. All memories had finally fled the minds of even the ancient cities, having decomposed into something entirely different and foreign.
Still, their soul remained open, straining against the emptiness of the world around them, barely capable of singing. Even in its exhaustion, however it hummed the rhythms, pressing outward.
As the song concluded, the wanderer began to slump, a tiny tear rolling from their cheek, landing with the weight of a timpani onto the pavement below. A splotch, dark against the sun-bleached stone lay quietly, the sound of its impact spreading outward in a wave
The roots were the first to respond. The slow creep of the trees returned the sound, passing it from one end to the other, snaking over and under the concrete and between foundations of buildings. They mimicked its tone, reverberating in the wanderer?s soul. They stiffened, straightening their posture. The trees had passed the new inclusion to the monuments of steel and they rang, the repressed screams quieting entirely as they played a new song.
The wind whispered it to the birds, who soared overhead, echoing the mournful note, introducing it to their songs and chirping it to any creature that might hear. The wanderer, however, shook their head. It was not the melody of a people long forgotten. Still, it beckoned with outstretched tendrils, a fermata waiting for direction from the conductor.
From within, a faint memory. A time where the full orchestra of the wanderer?s people washed over and drowned out the subtle harmonies. The harmonies of nature that swept to and fro, searching for a home, twisting and flitting with no place to rest. The orchestra had slowly grown tired with age. New musicians or instruments had not graced the stage in centuries. Each plucked string and blared horn sagged and slowed, burdened by the endless repeats of notes slowly wandering off key.
They?d heard the widening divide and with time, they had turned their sights on the remains of the once distant rhythms.
The wanderer wept, recalling the instruments closest to them vanishing one by one, joining the soft harmonies of nature. Their sounds hadn?t vanished, no, but instead transformed. They still sung the same song, but had changed instruments to match the trees, the grasses, the squirrels, or the birds. Even the small band that had once roved with the wanderer eventually left.
The wanderer listened, not to the memory of ancient songs, but to the reply. They called, summoning them silently through notes held on long tenutos. They had resisted thus far, stubbornly holding the single tone defiant in the endless stream. Perhaps, however, it was time. The tired sound of a solitary, archaic violin yearned to rejoin the score, to play music once again. The time, like the conductor?s baton, had finally arrived. It was time to return and become a fresh part of the great whole.
And so, in a field, not far from a once great city, a body came to rest. The physical object of it lying, a new melody taking it over as the song, that single, weathered note, rushed in and joined the sturdy harmonies of a tree. No longer forever locked into a single beat, but endlessly growing, swelling, and changing.
Everything was ready for the ritual.
I had drawn the star to the best of my ability, placing the candles at the points. All I could afford were those pillar candles with Jesus Christ on the front, but oh well. Being squeamish of blood, I couldn?t do the animal?s blood part, so I did the best wine I could get my hands on with my latest paycheck. Maybe it will like wine more?
Taking a deep, steadying breath, I nearly choked on the cloying scent of the strong incense and herbs I had burning in a bowl on my end table. My last resort at even a sliver of happiness was in the form of the two sheets of printed paper, the first one showing the process of summoning a demon and the second one having the symbol hand-drawn on it of the one I?m trying to summon. Supposedly, if it is successful, the demon must give you one thing you desire in return for your soul. I planned to bargain anything I could.
I picked up the paper with shaky hands The summoning spell hadn?t been too specific on verbiage, so I had done my best to create my own based off of others that I had found, though I shied away from some of the more blasphemous terms. Despite what I was about to do, I am still Jewish and hold my beliefs close to my heart.
Holding the paper with the symbol on it in my left hand, I hold it over the candle closest to me while chanting softly, ?Oh Lord, by your great and fearful presence, I pray that You grant me the strength and courage to perform that which I desire most and summon one of your loyal vassals to my aide, so I may attain Your and their help for my own gain. Please, O Mighty Lord, the one True God who cast man out of the Garden of Eden, allow your vassal whose name is burning in your flame to appear before me. May your vassal help me out of loyalty to You so I may fulfill my deepest desires, given it is proper for one of such divine rank to grant. This I humbly request ask in Your Name. May you deem me worthy, Father.?
At the end of the chant, the last bit of paper went up in a smoke, singing my fingers. Yelping in pain, I yanked my hand back and sucked on my finger, wishing I had thought to bring an ice cube in before the ritual. I knew better than to do anything dangerous without precautions - that was why I was doing this to begin with, after all.
I stared into the middle of my hand-drawn star on the floor, wondering if I had failed at even this. The ritual online said it was easy to make this, so even I - with all the worst luck imaginable - should be able to do this.
Looking back and forth at the design of the star on the paper and what I had drawn, my head spun as I felt like someone had kicked the air out of me. ?Ah? I?m so stupid?? I murmured to myself, tears welling up in my eyes.
I drew the Star of David, not a pentagram.
My legs gave out under me. I collapsed just as the tears flowed down my cheeks, splashing onto the candle and making it sizzle and pop.
I had failed at everything in life, even this. From learning how to drive and getting into a wreck that killed my older brother, to landing my first job where my first blunder landed myself and a coworker in a hospital with a medical bill I am still struggling to pay off and the guilt of watching them on life support, and so much more, this failure just seemed like a mockery of all my efforts.
Not even the devil wanted to get near this embodiment of bad luck.
I pressed my palms against my eyes, willing myself to stop crying, but it was as though a switch had been flipped Sobs wracked my body, loud and unfiltered. I blocked out the sight of the candles, incense, bowl of wine, and most importantly, the failed drawing of the star on the floor.
?Little one, why do you cry??
A soft, melodious murmur too beautiful to be called a voice found its way to me despite how loudly I was crying. Startled, I jerked my head up and stared at the androgynous person standing in the middle of my hexagram. Based off of the flat chest, I assumed this person was male. His exquisite reddish hair practically glowed in the candlelight, making it look like it is made out of copper. His facial features are smooth with no abnormalities, giving him an ethereal beauty that transcended any depiction I had ever seen of? well, anything.
He held out his hand to me, easily bypassing the edge of the circle. A scream caught in my throat; my blunder might just cause my death this time. If I actually summoned a demon and it can move freely about, what would stop it from just killing me for fun?
?Come now, tell me your worries, little one. You requested the Almighty Father to send me, did you not??
?Al? mighty?? I breathed, my eyes as wide as saucers. I didn?t even want to call his eyes such an unsightly term. They seemed to be more like the sun itself shining down on me and gracing me with their attentive gaze.
He swept an arm over the room like the beginning of a rapturing dance. ?Yes. You are one of the few with enough conviction and belief that our Almighty Father deemed you worthy of your request. You are humble and kind, always stand up again and again through your trials and tribulations, and more than anything else, do not ask for much. So, child. What do you request of me??
?I? I?? Tears welled up in my eyes again. ?I wish to no longer have this bad luck. So many terrible things have happened to my friends and family because of it. I don?t want anyone around me so I don?t hurt them, too. M-my brother, my parents, my best friend? they have all suffered from it. I don?t want to hurt anyone else??
I buried my face in my hands. I couldn?t bear to screw up another person?s life again.
Shhhk. Startled by the sound, I looked up to see the summoning ritual paper in his hand. His brow wrinkles in confusion, but it didn?t mar his beauty in the slightest. ?You attempted to summon a demon with this type of ritual??
?Y-yes?? I responded, uncertain. ?If you?re not a demon, then? what are you??
?I am Archangel Michael. You requested Our Lord to send me specifically.?
My eyes widened. ?A-an angel? I screwed up the ritual and summoned an angel??
?Archangel, yes.? He set down the sheet of paper and turned to face me. Kneeling down, his eyes level with mine, he murmured softly, ?You poor child. You seem to be living your life at the crossroads, watching as everyone else passes through their trials - yet that in itself is your trial. It has taken such a toll on you. Your desire stems from compassion and selflessness, which in turn will help your own state of being. That is truly a remarkable trait in a human. Most would just request for something selfish.?
?It? it hurts to see when others suffer for my own misfortune. I just want it to end??
?Hush now. It is all over; you do not have to stand at the crossroads of others any longer. Your own trials need not involve those around you from this point on.?
At that, my head spun as I sucked in one deep breath after another. I hadn?t even realized I couldn?t breath. Looking up at him with a clearer gaze, I asked hesitantly, ?What? do you want in return??
?The Lord does not give in order to take; He gives in good faith that his children will follow Him and His guidance.? The angel rests a hand on my head, and I felt the chill leaving my body as a gentle, warm light encompasses me. ?I bid you farewell, little one, and hope the next time I see you is among those you so fervently wish to protect.?
My vision goes black. For a moment, I thought I had passed out, but then realize that all the candles went out instead. My phone, which I forgot to leave outside my room, started to buzz.
Fumbling on my end table, I stare at the screen.
Felicia: Hey!! Long time no chat. Wanna hang out?? I haven?t seen you in aaaaagesssss
I bit my lip, hesitating. The archangel?s words rock through my mind. ?I don?t have to be afraid,? I mumble to myself, calling my friend back.
?Hey! Wasn?t expecting such a quick response!? Felicia?s chipper voice bubbled over the line.
?Y-yeah,? I stuttered, a trembling smile working its way across my face. ?I like the sounds of hanging out. I?m available today if you are.?
?Awesome! How?s coffee sound? I?ll carry it to the table since I know you?re such a klutz.?
?Ahaha, okay. Umm, Starbucks sound good? How about in 30??
?Oooh, look at who?s taking the lead on being social! All right, you?re on. I think I like this sudden change!?
?I? had some time to think,? I said, my smile coming more easily this time. ?As well as some encouraging words.?
?That?s good to hear. Let?s talk more over coffee!?
?Okay!? Click. I took a deep breath. ?Here goes nothing??
After a quick shower, I walked the ten minutes to the one closest tonews-medical.netthe only one I ever go to if I dare to leave my apartment. Shortly after I got there, I saw Felicia in her designer clothes saunter through the door I waved her over.
?What?s this? You already ordered?? Felicia asked, staring at the coffees in front of me. ?How many did you spill??
?None of them,? I admitted, a little self-conscious.
Her eyes widened. ?Y?know, before I met you, I didn?t believe in bad luck. Now you?re telling me it was cured overnight??
?I don?t know,? I admitted, my fingers curling around my warm cup. ?I?ll take this little blessing, though.?
My whole body was still warm from whatever Archangel Michael did before he disappeared, but right then, the warmth from my unspilled cup rivaled that. I finally felt like I could do something with my life, and I was ready to see what I was capable of.
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