#moocifer

A gift like this from his Father, his Creator, was unheard of. “You are gifting me an angel, Father? What have I done to deserve an angel?” The archangel asked sincerely, and with gratefulness filling his lungs, he felt his organs become so full they might pop. Michael couldn’t imagine going to Raphael and informing the other archangel that their Father was so great that his lungs had burst.

“Do not question me, Michael,” God replied, but no annoyance was in his voice, no emotion at all. As if this wasn’t something every angel in Heaven would find unbelievable. “But there are rules to this gift.”

Micheal fell to his knees and bowed out of pure appreciation. He was being given a gift. “Of course, Father. Please, tell me.”

The archangel could feel his Father’s smile even if he did not see it.

God listed off a small list of rules. “He does not live with you, and he is never to live with you; he will find a home with other angels. You are both to find time for your duties; he has three, and you are an archangel. I expect all responsibilities to be tended to.” Then the Father paused for emphasis. “And he is not only your angel. He is an angel of God; he is to find his divine purpose in Heaven, be it fruit, flying, or something entirely new, and then he is an angel of Michael. He is not yours and yours alone.”

It sounded like less of a rule and more like something to be conscious of. Michael would ensure he never forgot any of it. From his place in the grass, still bowing, Michael answered. “Yes, Father. I will ensure those rules are never broken. We will not live together or stray from our duties, and I will remember he is for everyone, not just me.”

“Very well then, Michael,” The Creator spoke. Then he called a name that Michael had never heard before, not once in his billions of years alive. “Lucifer.” The name rang melodic in Michael’s ears. A song made out of the soft hums of a harp and the whistles of pipes.

A soft “Yes, Father?” came from behind God’s throne. “Come forward and meet Michael. One of your brothers and one of your purposes.” The Lord replied.

Then, the newest of Heaven’s angels peered his head out from around the corner of God’s throne… and Michael’s entire world stopped. Time stopped. His thoughts stopped. Somewhere above them the angels roaming the city of Heaven stopped mid-step or mid-flap of their wings. Even the breeze that constantly caressed Michael’s cheeks when he was in Eden seemed to dissipate as he locked eyes with the most beautiful angel he had ever seen.

Blonde locks of hair rustled as the angel of beauty, Lucifer, peered out from behind the throne that was still hiding the rest of his body. A body that promised to be as bronzed and sun-kissed as his face was. Shiny golden eyes stared back at him with awe and caution. After a few silent moments the rest of Lucifer walked out from behind the throne, and the angel said, “Hello, Michael,” in the most saccharine and sweet voice the archangel had ever heard.

“Hello, Lucifer.” Michael greeted back, trying not to let his voice show his awe.

Beautiful.

Melodic.

Perfect.

His gift.

Lucifer.

Michael’s Lucifer.