One Small Light
K. L. Van der Veer
Longridge Writers Group
Christmas Anthology, December 2004
This was written for a flash fiction challenge—no more than 500
words and no passive verbs allowed outside of dialog.
Gabriel hugged his tattered wool coat about him and slipped from the deeper blackness of the alley into the empty street. Darkened windows, where Christmas lights should have sparkled, stared down on him like soulless eyes. Even the clouds seemed to honor the blackout by masking the stars. It would snow soon.
“You there!” a voice called. “Halt!”
Gabriel turned.
The soldier crouched in the shadowy doorway lowered his assault rifle. “Jeez… it’s just the street preacher,” he called. Quiet curses and the rattle of weapons answered from other shadows.
“Gabe, we’re under curfew tonight. You can’t be out here.”
“I know, I—”
A bright flash lit the sky, reflecting off the low clouds. Windows high overhead exploded, and a roar like a jet engine shattered the night. Dear Father-- Gabriel dropped to the pavement and covered his head.
The soldiers sprinted down the street, yelling at their radios. Gabriel pushed himself up. Michael… have to find Michael.
He found him sitting on the steps of St. Bridget’s. Ash sifted from the sky like snow, and distant sirens blared a counterpoint to the nearer weeping and shouts for help. Above it all, a mournful howl rose.
“It has begun,” Michael said. “War has unleashed his hounds to feed.”
“So what do we do now?”
A sudden wind gust kicked up a thick swirl of ash. When it settled, Raphael stood on the steps.
“Did they listen?” Michael asked.
Raphael shook his head. “The pride which divided us touches them. Yahweh, Allah, God... names around which his children rally. I believe they mean to tear down the gates of Heaven.”
“‘The kingdom of our Father is spread out upon the earth and men do not see it.’” Michael sighed. “Perhaps it was never our task to save them all.”
“What do you mean?” Gabriel asked.
“His spirit abides in all of them. Perhaps all we have to do is save one.”
“But which one?”
Across the street, a door splintered, and black shadow hounds dragged a young woman, shrieking, into the street.
“Her!” Michael said. He leapt to his feet, and a blade of blue-white flame appeared in his hand as he ran forward. He slashed at the shadows. They melted away in the fire, but more scurried down buildings and out of alleys.
“Get her inside!” Michael yelled and pressed ahead, white flames rippling along his arms. “Protect her!”
“What about you?”
“I am her gift this night. Peace go with you.”
Gabriel scooped up the girl and ran up the steps. St. Bridget’s doors swung open at Raphael’s nod, and they plunged into darkness.
The girl’s breath came in short gasps. Light, Gabriel thought, and light flooded the sanctuary. Only then did he see her round belly. Dear Father… so young… Had Michael known?
Raphael laid a glowing hand on her stomach, then smiled and nodded.
“Don’t be afraid, child,” Gabriel whispered. “What is your name?”
“Mirisya…” she panted, “…but most everyone… just calls me Miri.
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