FIRST GUARD

by Charles H. Mac Donald © 2002

"Polish up that gold, troop! And straighten up those wings on your shoulders!", barked Wing Commander Evening Star, to novice guardian Amberbright, who promptly began a rapid buffing of his red gold chest plate armor, which immediately began to glow with a great intensity, after a quick jerk had brought his wings into proper position.

"Supreme Commander Michael will be landing in mere moments," boomed Commander Star as he stalked the length of our entire Host, assembled along the snowy western ridge line of a fifteen mile high mountain, some three light years distant, from the star system we have kept constant watch on. Other Hosts of our Legion are similarly arrayed along nearby heights, no doubt undergoing the same intense scrutiny, as we ready our equipment for combat - which is expected to erupt just after Midnight - some fifteen minutes from now.

For just over 2,000 years, as time is measured on the planet that we watch, a full Legion has been posted here. Each year, Commander Michael himself, guides a fresh Legion, assembled from just about all parts of God's good creation, to this station. Our Legion, following this predictable battle action, will then receive fresh orders, and I know, in the back of everyone's mind, is the ardent hope they will next be ordered directly to the "blue" planet for extended duty. It is universally considered the highest honor one can receive. No one of us can be offered that great gift just yet, as combat experience is necessary, for the evil one's have temporary dominion there.

Just to be assigned here is the second highest honor one can receive, for the instant the calendar day December 25th clicks over, on that third planet called Earth, about one billion of the enemy will attempt to frantically flee their bonds there, as Our Lord's birthday infuriates these fallen beings. We then, will fly far faster than light itself, from here, Alpha Centauri, and force them back. With the Arch Angel Michael, and our trusty sonic weapons - trumpets - we do not expect defeat. It's going to be a wonderful Christmas! Alleluia!

x x x




Read more Flash Fiction?
Chat about this story on our BBS?
Or, Back to the Front Page?