The Chronicles of Monday: Prologue

A Story by Talon Riley

This is the prologue for The Chronicles of Monday. I don't know if I'm keeping the title but it works for now. So thank you Anna who gave me it. Long ago when angels walked the earth disguised as humans, there came a time when many rebeled against the

Prologue

There was a pause.

Then came a flood of music. Torrents of scales filled the small house. They bounced off the towers of boxes piled outside doorways, reverberating off half painted walls in the new nursery. Chords made the floorboards quake and the chairs buzz. The music swelled and swelled and shook the house to the foundation, rising to its final dazzling crescendo. Then it faded. The last few bars, played in the delicate higher octave, slipped into silence.

And the house was quiet again.

The woman slumped, exhausted. Her fingers withdrew from the ivory keys and fell to her swollen middle. The midmorning breeze that wafted through an open living room window ruffled her hair and tugged at her shirt. She sighed contentedly, pinning her curly brown hair back in a messy bun. She folded the music and slid it underneath the bench, spinning around to face the room.

“That was beautiful, Rose.”

She gasped, jumping a little in surprise.

“Awe inspiring,” continued the man, reclining in an armchair across the room.

Rose flew off the bench and into the man’s arms. He was young, handsome, and clean shaven. His glossy black hair was neatly parted, his tie the perfect length, and his outfit immaculate. He smiled and hugged her tight.

“You’re home!” she squealed.

His smile faded. “Yeah, look Rose, I need to tell you something-“

“Let it wait. I just want to enjoy having you here,” she said, and closed her eyes, leaning on his shoulder.

“Rose, really, it’s important.”

He wasn’t looking at her face anymore. His hand had drifted from her neck to the bump in her blouse.

“Rose, we shouldn’t wait until after she’s born to get married. We need to do it now.” He got up and grabbed his billfold, tucking it in his shirt pocket. “Come on, we’ll elope.”

“But Jared, you promised we’d save up, have a real wedding. A proper one,” pleaded Rose.

Jared rubbed his hands together, agitated.

“Rose, you’re already pregnant. There’ll never be a ‘proper’ wedding for us.”

Rose’s eyes widened. Tears stung the corners of her eyes. Hurriedly, Jarred tried to back track.

“They fired me today.”

Her tears broke loose.

“Jared, I’m…I’m sorry.”

“I’ve dropped out of college, bought a house, taken care of you as best I can, but Rose, I need to be able to call you my wife before something else happens. Please Rose…”

His hands were cupped around her face now, his gaze burning.

“For me?” he pleaded. He looked away, swallowing. “I’ll throw you the wedding of your dreams after the baby’s born. I’ll take out a loan whatever it takes and it’ll be beautiful if you just come with me now. Rose, I need you to do this for me.”

Rose’s face was glistening with tears now. She bit her lip, her face bent in a look of utter defeat. Slowly, she shook her head, her eyes closing and sobs overtaking her. Jared sighed and wrapped his arms around her.

“Don’t cry, Rose. If you won’t marry me, at least don’t cry. Do that much please?”

But she cried harder. Her makeup left streaks on her face and hands. Jared wiped them away as best he could but she would not stop sobbing long enough before new blotches appeared. He looked to the figure standing in the doorway, his eyes pleading. The figure shook his head sorrowfully. A sad smile curved the figure’s lips, but the hood of his black jacket made shadows fall across his eyes, hiding his true intent.

“Rose,” said Jared, taking her face in his hands once more. “Know that I’ve done all I can for you, that I’ve given you all I had. That I loved you more than anything in this world and that I loved this baby too.”

“Why are you using the past tense? You love us now, don’t you?” she said, her arms sliding between her and the man, tensed protectively around her middle. Jared’s eyes, tightened.

“I do, darling, it’s just…”

He broke off and put his fingers to his temples. His eyes locked on the figure.

“No!” he shouted, “Not like this!”

Rose screamed and looked from Jared to the doorframe.

“What going on?” she squealed, dropping to her knees by his side.

“It’s…ok…” he panted. Another wave of pain overtook him and he crashed to his elbows, cradling his head between his hands. He bit his lip so hard it began to bleed and stained his crisp white shirt. Rose got to her feet and ran for the phone. She passed through the doorway with ease. The figure waited until she had run through him and crossed the room to where Jared lay. He sat down cross-legged and watched as Jared shook.

“Azrael,” whispered Jared.

The figured perked up. It was not everyday that people both saw him and called him by his name.

“Take care of my daughter’s soul. She’s not to live long. I see that now.” He coughed. Blood stained the carpet.

“To what do I owe you, human?” the figure asked, intrigued. Many people made last requests of him, some of which he tried to carry out, but no one had ever commanded him to do something before. “I answer to no one but God.”’

“You owe me nothing. But I know you loved Sariel like I love my Rose. Please…” He drifted off and slid to the carpet. The red stain grew and encircled his head. With one last rattling gasp, Jared breathed his last. His heart slowed and his brain stood still.

Jared Olsen died of a cerebral hemorrhage on a Monday.

The same day his daughter was born.