Amemnero

The revolution was successful, and following the path of all successful revolutions, its leaders were venerated. The nation sat and watched, eager to see the new direction this hitherto unknown General would take them. Soon enough though, numerous counter-revolutions were attempted. All were nipped in the bud or destroyed at the edge of their victory. The man was ruthless; his commanders were soulless. They oversaw his throne, their claim to power, like a fort.

There is none like him, they consistently declared.

None other was destined to rule at this time, they pronounced on the airwaves.

They suppressed civilian insurrection and destroyed their enemies with the fervour of Mongolian warlords. Soon the Head of State came on air.

This seat is my heritage, he screamed, I shall not vacate it for any other. Spittle ran down the side of his mouth, declaring his insanity. His dark goggles covered the bloodshot eyes underneath. His name was Amemnero.

The nation sat and watched, no more curious but afraid; eager to please their new leader, nay, their new ruler.

He looted from the treasury with impunity and his promise of goodwill turned out as travesties. His power was autonomous, assured by the prevailing ruthlessness of his guns; the availability of which the Minister of Defence made sure of. Even the foreign nations steered clear of his way.

On the day that Amemnero had used his lips to venerate himself, an angel had been passing by.

And the heart of Amamtiel, the Angel of Death, was sore vexed as he heard the General lift up himself above all others. He went on his mission first, destroying the souls of the poisoned Afghan warlords before he went into the presence of Elohim in unconcealed ire.

The general has forgotten, he complained, let me defend the honour of heaven. Give me leave that the earth may know who truly reigns. They have forgotten that it is you who giveth seed to the sower and bread to the eater, that you can plunge them into the famine of Egypt by withholding the rain by a sleight of your hand. They must acknowledge that by strength shall none prevail. Give me leave, I pray thee!

And Elohim assented, for He had already willed it so.

Amamtiel bid his time, his sword ever-blazing with the justice of heaven. The task of the cessation of life was delegated to other of the host for the General had become his only pressing prize.

*

On that evening when the fated was to be brought to bear, Amituel rose from the bedroom of the general which had been deemed impregnable. His sword rose with him, blazing afresh with the light of ten suns in its eagerness to mete justice for his zeal for heaven had consumed him.

He had destroyed homes. He had destroyed livelihood. Black gold drilled with the currency of a thousand lives. The Chief of Staff who had leveled his own village in order to dig for oil without scruples. There he was enjoying the pleasures of the flesh of a victim who had been pushed to debasing herself to feed her family. He pushed into her, enjoying her barely concealed whimpers of pain as she endured his abuse. He was cut off from existence just as he spilled his seed into her. Granted sight, he saw the terrible visage of the angel just before the sword sliced through his neck, spraying his insides upon the whore. The Angel of Death was neither white-robed nor beautiful.

The Chief security officer who prided himself as the power behind the Throne mentally patted himself on the back as he went through his obsessive bathing ritual. He had made it all happen. That was the last thought that went through his head as slipped and broke his neck as he reached for his soap. Amamtiel was not done.

The Major-General  saw a fleeting image if the heavenly avenger staring down in righteous anger at him just as he threw his head back to finish his expensive glass of celebration wine with his family, causing him to constrict his trachea in fright and making his costly vintage go through the wrong passageway. His family watched in horror as his blood-shot eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as he coughed himself to a painful death.

The Chief of Defence who had burned up the constitution in live view of television cameras struggled to keep his legs moving as he walked home after being inebriated at the bar. He had sent his drive r away, hoping the walk and the breeze would clear his head a little to be able to fend off his wife’s haranguing about his drunken stupor. As he hummed a jaunty tune he heard at the bar, the angel struck. Suddenly darkness clouded his vision as he reached the top of the stairs. Wondering why he felt like he was floating backwards, he died. He had tripped, blinded by the Avenger.

Fools, the angel roared, as he went from one corner of the nation to another in milliseconds, cutting them down.They do not even possess the wisdom of the ants, yet they exalt their strengths above heaven.

The angel had seen the hundreds of little demons that had brought the men down by affecting their faculties. Pride, with his yellow fang and furry body, was seated deeply in the center of each man’s soul. The furious Amamtiel sliced through the horde, scattering the demons first. This did not portend mercy for their vessel, for the men had willingly allowed their power into their heads. Swoosh! his sword went unheard, a length of ethereal gold forever untainted by the flesh and blood of they through which it sliced with cosmic ease.

And on Amamtiel went, till he had brought down the twenty-three who strangled the nation of God’s creation.

Now, it remained the General.

The warrior of heaven waited while the glutton stuffed himself full of food and wine his gatekeeper could not afford with a year’s wages. The diarrhea came quickly, forcing the General to throw up in the presence of his foreign dignitaries. His eyes reached for the direction of the toilet as he stood up from the horridly expensive marble dining table, bought at the expenses of the paltry wages of his menial labourers. He had not reached the door of the dining room before the smell of feces assailed the nostrils of his shocked guests. His face sweating, he burst into the toilet and sat his great behind on the opulent toilet seat. An opulent toilet seat!

While he sprayed forth his waste with reckless abandon, the scales with which Man is born with, fell from his eyes and he saw the angel before him. A mighty creature, red eyed and thorny. His spindly hand held a glimmering gold sword which the shocked general saw was already extended into his bowels. At that moment of revelation, he knew ultimate fear. His screaming was never heard as he vomited copiously and choked on his mess. His aides, concerned, stood sentry outside, hearing naught.

The angel withdrew his sword and cleanly decapitated the General, causing his vomit to spill from the stump of his neck. The great body of the General fell forward, his diarrhoea accompanying him and distributing itself all over his corpse. When his aides burst in, alarmed by the racket made by his falling body, it was to the sight of worms as they devoured the food, wine and body of the man had thought himself mighty.

How the mighty are fallen, and the weapons of their warfare are perished, Amamtiel sang sonorously

The Angel was appeased; the honour of heaven had been defended.

When he was done, a great jubilation went up from the denizens. The oppressed remnant immediately began plans of drafting a new Constitution; Elohim had willed it so.

And then Amamtiel returned into heaven after his three years leave, his reputation magnified.

Elohim had willed it so.

*

This was done with some help from my esteemed comrade @weird_oo, the mistress over at http://phantompages.wordpress.com check her out sometime.

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