MicroHorror

Schadenfreude (shahd-n-froi-duh): Satisfaction or pleasure felt at someone else’s misfortune.

Azrael could almost respect Pharaoh. After all, he’d stood up to The Boss despite everything they’d thrown at him and his people. No small feat for a mortal.

This all boiled down to a turf war between two astoundingly stubborn leaders. The Boss had said, “Let My people, the Israelites, go.” The pharaoh had responded, “Screw you, pal. I don’t answer to you.” In The Boss’s opinion, Pharaoh was smalltime and needed to be sent a message.

A hulking figure enveloped in darkness, Azrael scuffed his enormous booted foot along the lip of the simmering volcano. His face glowed orange as he gazed down, remembering.

One after another, the toughest hit men within the Organization had been called upon to unleash plagues upon the Egyptians. Yet when it came to releasing the Israelites from slavery Pharaoh never yielded.

The Boss was getting pretty ticked at Pharaoh’s ongoing resistance. He sent a message to Galgaliel, the angel who governs the wheel of the sun.

“Issues with the Egyptians. Make it dark,” the message read. Galgaliel shifted the gears into neutral half a world away. Then he kicked back and waited. Pharaoh and the Egyptians settled in and waited too. So did the Israelites. Everyone knew something big was brewing.

The Boss sent the human mouthpieces, Moses and Aaron, out with a message for the Israelites’ ears only. The gist of it was this: “Perform the ritual of Pesach. Mark your doorposts with the blood from the sacrificed lamb to show your loyalty. Your efforts will be recognized and rewarded.”

Azrael had a pretty good idea what was coming next so when The Boss summoned him, he was prepared.

“You know about our issues with Pharaoh,” The Boss began. Azrael nodded.

“He’s insulted Me and everyone within the Organization.”

Azrael kept his lips pressed tightly together and said nothing.

“It’s time to end this. We’re going to make him an offer he can’t refuse.”

Azrael only nodded and waited. The Boss revealed His divine plan.

***

Just a few minutes before his midnight run, Azrael, known to humanity as the Angel of Death, unfolded his mighty wings and soared out over the mouth of the volcano. The Egyptians and Israelites alike called it Thera. Azrael called it fortuitous. The toxic vapors and incinerating heat would have shaken the resolve of a lesser angel. But Azrael was no lightweight, and he angled his enormous frame closer to the center of the crater. As the Angel of Death, his enormous body was covered with eyes beyond number. One for every living human being on earth. Azrael blinks your soul-eye and your time is up.

Azrael folded his wings and plummeted into the searing heat of Thera’s hellish core. The appointed time was now just seconds away. Azrael took a deep breath, clenched his fists and grinned. Through the poisonous scalding fumes he fell, holy adrenaline coursing through his veins. Deeper… deeper…

You’ll blink before I do, the Angel of Death thought, thinking of his targets.

Embedded in his massive palms were arranged the soul-eyes of every first-born son in Egypt. Azrael pushed the limits of his endurance. At the moment midnight struck, The Boss whispered the go-ahead to Azrael and he shot his arms out in front of him as he fell.

Aimed toward the volcano’s molten core, Azrael opened his palms and–

A multitude of soul-eyes blinked in unison.

From Egypt an ear-shattering cry of agony and despair erupted, unlike anything ever heard before or since.

The Egyptian first-born thrashed, withered and died in one fell swoop: Azrael’s.

The loyal Israelite first-born were spared. The Boss had won. End of story. Write it in a Book.

Azrael unfolded his smoldering wings and beat them furiously, flying upward as fast as he was able. He’d done his duty. Azrael felt simultaneous rushes of exaltation and exultation vying for supremacy within him.

God, he loved his job.

• Copyright: © 2009 Adrian W. Ludens