Dreamlike, you know. Harold walked among those stalks of grass and moved them as they whipped at his skin. Dry and somehow sticky—and somehow coating his mind too in that dryness. He was mentally warm, uncomfortable. But he kept going.
Up in front of him, something white and fluttering was there. Something that was the size of a person, but glowing. Pale skin. Bare and nude except for a small patch of fabric across the midriff. Wrapped loosely with jewels.
He should have been embarrassed, or at least aroused—but he was simply drawn forward.
A single wing beat happened, and the wind made the stalks bend down and reveal her full form to his eyes. He had seen her so many times in the last day, but every time was so much more than every other time.
She had a halo as he would have hoped for a creature of the divine. It did not look at all as he would have expected. It was not simply a yellow band—it was a beam of light that had a warping flow to it. Bent light.
“Oh, hello,” she said, and he shivered. Church bells had nothing on her voice. A flute solo and a bird flock chirping. Not even real words—just sounds of pleasant melody. But he could understand what she was saying.
And he walked beneath her and smiled up at her.
“Hello again,” he said, and his pupils dilated wide.
The angel reached down and touched him with the tip of a single finger. He shivered down to his spine and nearly vomited. His entire nervous system was overloaded for a moment that felt like forever.
Then she moved her hand back away and let out a small cooing sound.
“Did you bring me what I wanted?”
He shivered again and reached into his small bag, withdrawing a solid gold ring. It had been his mother’s, but the angel had asked for it—and he was not going to deny this being anything it wanted.
She avoided touching him this time and moved the ring onto her finger. The metal glowed with minor heat but did not melt.
He waited for further instructions.
“Thank you, child. Now, tell me, what is it that I can do for you?”
“It is my pleasure just to serve you—”
She was right at his eyeline. Hovering with those wings beating soft but warm air around him. His blush overcame his face.
“What would you want?” she asked again.
“A single kiss?”
She cocked her head, and, then, without much more pause, delivered.
He had this look on his face before the fire started in his mouth. Then his hair. He did not stop smiling even as every nerve in his body melted away into a fluid of red and electrical sparks.
She watched as the mortal died in ecstasy and then floated off with the ring—wondering how much more gold she would need for her throne.
Special thanks to: Bob Gerkin, Collin Pearman, Dylan Alexander, Jerry Banfield, and Michael The Comic Nerd.
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