"Keep in touch!" the fallen angel's sister shouted as he plummeted toward Earth. This was just a formality, as his telepathic privileges had been revoked.
He'd had no coffee that morning, and already he felt like a crusted-up rag. The Sahara dust whirling around him, drying up his eye sockets, certainly didn't help. The cacti towered above, looking down upon him in condemnation.
"I know, I know," he told them. He knew they had no patience for excuses, nor did he feel like coming up with any.
Travel angst filled him, and what a trip it had been. The descent to Earth had taken only minutes in Earth-time but hours in angel time, during which he'd had plenty of time to reflect on his sin.
Still, he didn't feel like he was entirely in the wrong. He thought he was descending into a supple valley and not, in fact, the neckline of Mithys, the goddess of the Lilith Gorge.
Well, it didn't take him long to figure it out. The valley started heaving violently, fields of grass rippling under a swirling wind, before he catapulted into the air.
Of course, he apologized profusely and even offered a duckling as penance. But nothing would appease Mithys.
So here he was, surrounded by a similarly inflexible audience—and prickly, on top of that.
This is my entry for Marianne West's Weekend Freewrite challenge. As an extra challenge, I decided to use all of the suggested prompts (highlighted in bold) in my story. Thank you Marianne for giving us this space and for always providing great prompts!
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