She wanders aimlessly across the wilderness, dressed in rags. She never talks to anybody, she never looks at anybody and no-one has ever seen her eat. She has been wandering for nearly ever. Some say she was once an angel, and she is beautiful enough for that to be true.
She had fought on the side of good and he on the side of darkness for countless millennia, for longer than time itself. Evenly matched, their battles, which could light up whole star systems, would usually end in stalemate.
Only once did he beat her, and that was through cunning and lies, more than strength and power. He pinned her down on the surface of a cold dead sun, its death rattles escaping from its surface in steamy, angry bursts of foul gas, and pushed his face into hers. His breath was hot and animal. “We have a special place in Hell for angels.” he snarled, savouring the fear in her sacred eyes. Angels are not easily scared but she had heard of the pit, reserved just for God’s purest, most cherished creations. She knew of the living writhing thorn trees, made from her Saviour’s very own crown, that tormented angels inside and out. She knew how the floor of the pit was thick with the blood and teeth of her brothers and sisters, knew how that, in Hell, the agonies of the pure were considered the most delicious.
“There is a way out of this, my precious,” he let her know, “a way for you to escape the torment.” His growing erection told her exactly what that way out was. Her silence, her lack of response, was her acquiescence.
They lifted off from the sun’s surface, him entering her as they rose higher, holding her as they flew across the icy, dark sky. She gasped and tensed up, she knew how brutal this demon could be in the throws of the sexual act, how he would bite and claw and snap bone like twig, but he wasn’t brutal. He was fierce and overpowering, sure, as he flung and twisted her into different positions, taking her forcefully from every angle, but he wasn’t brutal. He was almost attentive.
He lifted her up to his mouth as they flew into the tail of a great comet, his long, thick, forked tongue thrusting into her and over her, the ice crystals of the tail, stinging their naked flesh. When an angel comes it can last for hours. Her orgasm lasted for days. She sung her pleasure so loudly, so honestly, that half the universe heard her bliss.
They landed with a seismic thud on a long neglected moon, and beneath a dark emerald sky, against the sides of an erupting volcano she took him in her hand and mouth, let him satisfy himself and took all he had to give. She felt him shoot, relentlessly into the back of her throat as she gulped and swallowed and dribbled his love.
They bathed in the raw heat of a super-nova and she knelt on all fours, looked over her shoulder at him and willed him to defile her with her eyes, and he filled her with his tongue and fingers and his icy erection. He covered her body with sharp kisses, each one stinging and leaving a little mark.
They soaked in the hot gases of star nurseries, whole civilisations crumbling beneath the screams of her delight and the primal growls of his lust, and after, as they danced under a diamond waterfall a hundred miles deep on a planet half a galaxy away, she realised with a terrible shudder, why he had not been brutal to her – when she returned to the Celestial City, she would have to confess to her Lord and Creator and He would ask if she enjoyed her unholy union. Her answer would get her banished from The City Of Light for all eternity. They would tear off her wings and hurl her into the deserts, to wander forever.
It is easy to find the angel that was, the wanderer they call Gabriela. Simply follow the trail of tears across the wastelands. If you are very lucky you may see the faint hint of a smile flicker across her face: she is remembering his forked tongue and the things he could do with it.
It struck me today, a rather sad little conclusion… men are not very good at a lot of things. We are good at beating our chests and scaring off demons, but that is about it. You got a demon you want scaring off? Call a bloke.
This century will belong to women, at least I hope it will. There will be fewer wars and fewer unnecessary deaths. Men have had their time, and in my opinion, have done a good job of it all but now it should be the girl’s turn. In my experience, women make better bosses than men, they understand people better.