A small Amish family once lived in the outskirts of the town, enclosed from the temptation of technology around them as they kept to themselves and themselves only. Knowing the pages and inscriptions of the Bible, having the ability to recite almost every passage by memory, they thought that the world outside was being misled by material possessions. Composed of a loving husband and wife, along with a son and daughter, they read citations aloud in a sitting circle, believing that something existed out there that was watching over them. The children, since their birth, have claimed to have seen a figure walk about the house as well as an occasional, softly-spoken voice whispering to them from time to time.
On one spring evening when the idyll could not have been any less than perfect, a bright and blinding light had formed outside in their small flower garden. Having watched this through their window, the family went outside to watch in awe. Two white, birdlike wings shaped themselves into being from the figure’s back, as it started to take on a more feminine body, crossing her arms as she looked about. The group dropped to their knees in blind worship, tears starting to drop down their cheeks from the very thought that such a divine figure is known to exist.
“Sweet angels dei, look upon me.” The apparition’s voice was firm, yet gentle all the same; beautiful and harmonious as well as being soothing to the ears. “You have been faithful to the omnipotent; I come to grant you a challenge of life. It is time to show your true worth to the Lord. A paradise waits for the few undoubting to measure up and prove them self-abiding, and fulfill the needs of dominus.”
With that, she vanished from thin air, leaving the mortals awestruck and enlightened.
Day by day, night by night, they took it upon themselves praying to the makeshift altar they had constructed together in their humble store. The apparition had spoken promises of hope and devotion, bringing light to the dark world around them. The family was sure that their prayers would be answered, for why would she ever lie?
It was one day when the father walked into the candlelit room, alone, that something had happened. The black-leathered Bible began to flip pages by itself in a rather frenzied manner, jumping about to different passages. The book duly ceased when he was within short distance from it, making him hesitate before picking it up into his shaking arms. The pages had be stained with dried crimson, a flask of red ink having been left beside where the Holy Writ previously lain. A singular, specific line had been underlined, the ink having been allowed to bleed onto the page haphazardly. With care, he read it out loud.
"And the daughter of any priest, if she profanes herself by playing the whore, she profanes her father: she shall be burnt with fire."
The father gingerly placed the tome back on the altar stand, staring into the open book as he rereads the line over, until a voice rose inside of his head. It spoke in two different tones, one lightly while the other seemed to have more sinister intent, but he recognized it as the same voice nonetheless, despite the conflicting personalities.
“An unbeliever among your flock. Your scrupling daughter is against us,” the first one spoke.
“The filthy child, I order you to punish that whoring freak, and make her bleed,” the other interrupted, its words hissing into his mind like an insidious serpent as they conspired together.
Closing the book carefully, he sets the ruined testament back on the pillar. His hands were shaking, as he did not know whether he was being challenged by His holiness to meet His demands as the angel had said, or if he was simply going mad. His decision was made fairly quickly as he heard the door open behind him.
He yanked his approaching daughter by the arm as he forced her outside. He shoved her against the filthy wall of the store with a leather whip in his hand. Lash by lash, the still air was interrupted by both yelps and the whip cracking with each strike to her back without mercy. Dark spots of blood began to show up on her clothing as it broke through skin as it pours down her back and legs and soon she could not remain standing as she embraced the ground below. Using this as time, the father picked up an axe which was laying against the wall, aiming towards her legs. “Just do it,” the voices commanded in unison.
With the axe, he cut up his little girl. Her screams dwindled down after the second limb had been mercilessly severed from her body, growing limp rather quickly not too long after. Driven mad, he continued to mutilate the dismembered body before he heard screaming and sobbing directly behind him. He turned around to confront his hysterical wife. Without a blink, he swung the axe to her neck as cheering was heard in his mind. The body remained standing for several seconds before falling over next to the decapitated head. As he was feeding her to the hatchet, their son watched as blood and body parts were being thrown into the air from a window, traumatized.
Under the tree closest to the house, a bright and blinding light had formed once again. The apparition. She opened her arm as the innocent son advanced towards her, and held his small hand within her hand.
“Free from sin, you’ll come with me.”
She softly brought the scared boy to her, motherly resting his head against her bosom as she caressed his cheeks soothingly. Calmness soon turned to horror as the body of the beautiful angel started to slowly change form before his eyes. Her white wings became infernally dark. The soft hands soon turned to monstrous claws that began to break the weak skin as he felt a sickly warm liquid run down along his cheeks. Her brilliant face twisted, becoming ugly and grotesque and looking as if she came from the very bowels of Hell itself.
She brought the panicking son closer to her and, with a diabolical laughter that was as ever pleasant as nails on a chalkboard, vanished along with him.
The father now stood alone in the little flower garden, too shocked to move or even react to the events that had unfolded. Somewhere in his troubled mind, he felt a sense of pride in the work that he had accomplished. He looked up to the sky as the heavens began to darken. The clouds cleared up as a gargantuan, leviathan-like creature tore through the ethereal blue. The final lock of the gate has been opened.
Written by FlakyPorcupine