Little Light Episode five: The Room

By R Schick

In this episode ... The deception hadn't worked out as planned, leaving Morning Star and Samael reeling. In a final showdown, it's come down to
this final moment of good versus evil while Nolan's still slipping between realities. In the room, little Tina has killed
Jordi, and meanwhile, Stormie and Casey have a date with impending doom!

• Language: English
• Publisher: R Schick
• Release date: Jan 15, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310158131

R Schick

Rocket Schick and Mrs. Rocket raise their family in (literally) the coolest city on Earth, Winnipeg. He’s a Winnipeg Jets and Winnipeg Blue Bombers fan.As a Psychosocial Rehabilitation Practitioner at the CRS, he has been employed by the Selkirk Mental Health Center for twenty years, helping people who suffer and struggle with mental health issues on their journey to recovery.As a screenwriter, he’s an active member of Francis Ford Coppola’s American Zoetrope as both a contributor and reviewer since 2009, garnering accolades as a Reviewer of the Month. He has mentored under a successful Hollywood Supervising Producer from such films as Apollo 13 and Band of Brothers. His screenplay Rockets Red Glare had been strongly considered for television development by a major Canadian production company.As a book author, Little Light: Episode Three, Four, and Five had recently placed as a finalist for the Chanticleer Mainstream Somerset Award in 2014. Aside from the Little Light Series, he’s also in the midst of creating a new sci fi series (for teens and for those young at heart), and continues to create screenplays.

Book preview

LITTLE LIGHT

Episode Five: The Room

By R. SCHICK

Published by Rocket Schick Presents at Smashwords

Copyright 2015 Rocket Schick

Smashwords Edition License Notes

Thank you for downloading this eBook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy from their favorite authorized retailer. Thank you for your support.

Content

Chapter 1: Nolan

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7: The room (VII)

Chapter 8: Nolan

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11: The room (VIII)

Chapter 12: Stormie

Chapter 13: The room (IX)

Chapter 14: Stormie

Chapter 15: The room(X)

Chapter 16: Stormie

Chapter 17

Chapter 18: The room (XI)

Chapter 19: Stormie

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23: The room (end)

Chapter 24: Stormie

Chapter 25: Stormie's beautiful mind

Chapter 26: Stormie

Acknowledgement

About the Author

Other Books by Rocket Schick

C H A P T E R 1

Nolan

So, we're finally down to the homestretch, my imagined friend. A final recap... We did it. We poisoned the pompous little shit. Also, in case you forgot, I uh ... had a little slip up in the midst of my ... rage. I'll just come out and say it. I slammed Gabrielle against a wall. So, I guess you think I'm an asshole now too? Not just crazy ... whatever ... Anyhow, looking down from the balcony in the arena, I noticed the demeanor of my covenant had changed, they had lacked a certain grace, as it were and I found this to be a little surprising. To no one's surprise, the Son impressed in the bronze round, easily defeating his opponent but the silver round was something else. The poison had kicked in and I was afraid that it might have been too noticeable. Raziel was able to easily overpower the Son. And just as he was about to put him out of his misery, the Son turned his eyes to me and smiled. Huh?

All eyes were suddenly on me. The Son was waving at me, just me, and with a grin on his face.

O - kay? I said, confused and returned the wave. What’s this about? I whispered to Gabrielle.

How should I know? she whispered back, and Samael shrugged his shoulders, not understanding either. The Son then turned his attention back to the impending sword about to mercifully finish off his bout.

I’ll make this quick, Raziel said, without making eye contact with the Son. His sword came down fast and hard, but to the shock of the crowd, the Son had defended against it.

Repeating the exact same chop again, the Son blocked it again. He seemed stronger and more self-assured.

What’s happening? Gabrielle asked, as she was still looking away. Speeding up the pace of his slashes, each deflected, the crowd began to stir and then shifted to adulation. I wasn’t concerned by this late second wind, Raziel actually had a little bit of a challenge, so this would help distract from any suspicions of my foul play, and ultimately do nothing to gain favor with the other two Seraphim. It would take a divine intervention, which I’d heard so much about, to undo this damage. Smiling, I could now relax and watch as the Son’s sudden burst of energy fizzled out, confident once again of my place in Heaven. This time I squeezed Gabrielle’s hand because I felt like celebrating.

The bout continued, the Son must have pulled out every trick that I’d taught him, and he was holding his own quite well. Displaying fluid movement that only battlefield experience could teach, Raziel was impressive, yet despite that, the Son was still standing, and still landing good strikes, and he didn’t seem to be tiring. Raziel, however, was and suddenly I was starting to get a little nervous.

Very impressive, Morning Star, I must admit, the Son is holding his own even more admirably than I’d anticipated, Raphael offered but I ignored him. This was not how it was supposed to go. Gabrielle squeezed my hand and I realized that I was white knuckling the railing and looked over to my angel, and then loosened my grip.

Raziel was tiring, and the Son was clearly feeding off this momentum, as a noticeable shift in the bout’s dynamic had occurred.

What the…? I blurted out. The Son was now on the offensive, and Raziel was defending. The crowd was on their feet.

Would you look at that? Raphael said in surprise. This couldn’t be. Raziel was able to draw a little more juice, but he was almost on empty, and the Son’s pace increased. Although he couldn’t fly, he was now leaping and flipping, slicing and connecting, and Raziel was doing his best to simply stay on his feet.

No! I accidentally blurted out, and drew a sharp expression from Gabrielle. The Son, now swinging fast, and connecting again, and again, the clanging of the swords was a fast paced flurry - clang, clang, clang, clang, oh no, clang, clang, clang ..., backing Raziel further and further, until he was against the wall. Clang, clang, clang, clang until…

Raziel’s sword flew out of his hand, and he fell to his knees in exhaustion.

How? I whispered. The crowd erupted as Raziel’s sword stuck into the ground and the handle shimmied back and forth. With a near manic huffing and puffing, the Son gently touched the tip of his sword to Raziel’s throat.

Submit? he asked. Defeated and out of gas, Raziel glanced over to Michael in disappointment, and then back to the Son’s eyes.

Submit, he finally said, and the crowd was euphoric. I nearly collapsed out of my seat.

Morning Star, are you alright? My Gabrielle whispered. I was not, however, alright, not even close. I must’ve still been in shock, because both Raphael and Michael were saying things to me and I hadn’t a clue. I hadn’t even conceived of the possibility of this scenario playing out. I felt a shortness of breath, as this wasn’t supposed to happen. The Son reached down and pulled Raziel up to his feet.

Thank you, Raziel, the Son said. Raziel lifted the Son’s arm up in victory, to the crowd.

Your victory was impressive, Raziel stated.

Thank you, but I don’t believe everyone would agree with you, he said, looking around to the celebrating audience in stunned hysterics.

Well, considering your lack of battlefield experience, your accomplishment is undeniable. You’ve certainly proven yourself, not that any proof was ever required, Raziel explained, and the Son’s eyes locked on mine once again.

I believe for me truly prove myself, I need to defeat the best, he said, still locking eyes.

If you perform in the gold round, like you have in this silver round, I know that-- Raziel explained but the Son cut him off.

No, that’s not what I mean.

Look at them, these are your angels and your archangels, Raziel said with a sweep of his arms across the crowd surrounding them, there’s no need for you to continue, you’re the Son, and you have nothing to prove.

No … I think I do. I looked over to Samael with my hand covering part of my face and discreetly shook my head, no. There would be no further poisoning of the elixir, it didn’t work, It slowed him, but not enough, if anything; the Son had won back the support he’d had to begin with, and then some. I needed a new plan and quick, as I was about to lose my army. The Son was still fixated on me, it was sort of freaking me out, and I avoided that direct eye contact as much as I could.

You’ve done well as a mentor, Morning Star. Look how he’s looking to you for your approval, Michael suggested, but I knew that it wasn’t my approval he was seeking. He did well against Raziel, but so what? His skill was mediocre at best, and was hardly the divine leadership needed to replace me as Heaven’s finest warrior. I certainly saw nothing to impress me, beyond what any other gladiator who had made it to the gold round, and for this I should hand over the keys, so to speak? I don’t think so.

One thing was for certain, I thought, as my army was about to be taken away from me, they weren’t going to take it without a fight. Little did I know, the Son was about to hand me the very platform I needed to make that fight a reality.

C H A P T E R 2

Angels and archangels, in our exhibition’s gold battle-- the announcer began.

If I could interrupt for a moment, the Son said, and the crowd cheers immediately fell silent. This was an unprecedented breach of protocol, and he had everyone’s undivided attention. He looked across the faces and the smiles, walked in a small circle, and looked into as many sets of eyes as he could. This moment of silence was aggravating.

What’s he doing? I whispered to Gabrielle, but she shook her head.

It’s my understanding that the purpose of an exhibition is to display one’s prowess on the battlefield and I hope, so far, I’ve shown you that I can at least handle a sword, he said, with a boyish smile, and of course, the crowd had erupted in support. I looked to Samael and he shrugged back. That said, I’ve been told that there’s a vast difference between an exhibition and battling dark entities.

I couldn’t have said it better myself, I whispered.

Shhh, Gabrielle said, and elbowed me to shut up.

As you know, he continued, I’ve never battled a dark entity in all my existence; the opportunity has never presented itself.

Wow, he was paying attention.

Morning Star, please! she scolded in a harsh whisper.

There are those out there who might feel that an exhibition, such as this, isn’t a true indicator of skill, specifically my skill, he said, and the crowd booed, indicating their unwavering support of him, no, no, this is a fair assessment, and a valid opinion. So, I ask you, would a strong performance, and possibly a victory in the gold round silence my skeptics? he asked, and no surprise, the crowd had once again cheered. The Son nodded, smiled, and held up his hand like a politician giving a stump speech.

Gimme a break, I said, what? I can’t have an opinion? I added, already in anticipation of her scolding.

I appreciate your support, however, I don’t think anything short of actually battling … dark entities … could convince those in doubt, he explained, and heavy boos rained down. Where was he going with this? The Son simply nodded in acknowledgment. Now, I don’t know when … or if … we’ll be attacked again by dark entities, so I find myself in somewhat of a predicament. If a win in the gold round doesn’t convince the unconvinced, then what? He asked, and looked around at the crowd. So, you see my problem, then?

Arrogant little--

Morning Star! she scorned.

Fortunately, I think that I have a solution, but it’ll require a slight modification to the traditions of the exhibition, he explained, and a slight murmur rumbled in response.

He’s turning this into a farce, I said, as if I cared about the sanctity of the exhibition, but I couldn’t help myself, I had nothing to lose at this point.

If you, in attendance, would be so kind and allow it? he asked and of course, the crowd went along with whatever their golden boy wanted. They reminded me of mindless clapping seals on Earth. Gabrielle actually seemed to have some sympathy for me, finally. Even Michael and Raphael looked a little perplexed by this posturing. I’d like to propose that I choose the gladiator that I battle for the gold round, he said, to thunderous cheers.

Who is he trying to impress? Me? I asked. The Son then turned to the cherubs organizing the contest, in turn, they searched their rulebook, and with shrug and nod, granted their approval.

This is a joke.

I have the endorsement of the cherubs and the crowd, do I also have the endorsement of our mighty Seraphim? he asked, looking up to our balcony. How about you Raphael, do I have your endorsement to face a gladiator of my choosing? the Son asked. The crowd was festive. Raphael looked out to the stands, back at us for a moment, and finally tipped his fingers from his forehead to a salute of approval, and the crowd was elated. And you, Michael?

Not that it’s required, he said, but yes, why not? Michael replied, and the crowd again erupted, and then his eyes met with mine. Obviously, I wasn’t going to say no.

And lastly, Morning Star, my longtime mentor, do you endorse my choosing of an opponent for the gold round?

Yes, yes, you have my endorsement, I said, practically waving it off. Just get on with it already. I said, and this didn’t even elicit a single chuckle. It was so done, these were his angels now, and short of a miracle, I had no idea what could save my job.

Then it’s unanimous, he said, as he circled around trying to capture everyone’s expression. I am Father’s Son, and I love each and every one of you, he explained, as the crowd seemed almost mesmerized by his words. An image of the Waco massacre in Texas crossed my mind; it was as if they were hypnotized. I looked around at the tranquil faces, and then I looked over to my covenant, but they weren’t. Like me, they were looking around the arena completely perplexed by this love-in spectacle. The Son had a hold on the rest, and to their credit, they seemed at peace, but from my perspective, it was unnerving.

These mindless trained seals blindly following this child, I thought in disappointment, even Michael and Raphael were under the Son’s spell. My heart was a flutter when my eyes finally landed on Gabrielle because she wasn’t under that same trance. My respect for her had elevated at that moment. She looked at me with her same beautiful smile that brought me more joy than anything, and gave my arm a squeeze, almost as if to say, it’s just me and you, babe.

For a long moment, the Son just smiled, and tried to connect with his flock in an intimate one to one basis, a real cult of personality moment. I wasn’t sure what this love-in was intended to produce, as the crowd fell silent, yet collectively happy. I was getting a little antsy. Then, he turned his eyes to me.

So, he began, Morning Star…

Huh?

I want to end all doubts of my ability to lead.

So I hear, I replied.

And since I don’t have a swarm of dark entities to encounter…

Okay? I said, and looked around. Was I missing something here?

I can think of only one I need to battle, to prove myself once and for all. A gladiator that I know will not hold back, the most accomplished of all. In case you haven’t already guessed… he said, pulled out his sword, and pointed it directly at me. I choose you, Morning Star!

What-what?

C H A P T E R 3

The crowd had gasped in a collective stun. The Son was calling me out. Challenging me, Heaven’s lead Seraphim, there wasn’t a chance he could win, or even come close. I looked over to Michael and Raphael for some degree of common sense and thankfully, they seemed in consensus that this was a big mistake on the Son’s part, and even before I opened my mouth to respond to this absurdity, Michael had beaten me to the punch.

Morning Star is not a gladiator, Michael argued, and the Son had seemed to anticipate this response because he was already nodding along.

"I’m aware of Morning Star’s rank as head Seraphim, Michael. I certainly do not imply that he’s a gladiator.

I would contend that there are rules forbidding your request. Michael added.

There are none, The Son immediately replied, and turned to the cherubs who were already consulting their rules. Wise cherubs, please enlighten our Seraphim Michael, he instructed. They poured through their bound documents and conferred with one another privately until one cherub spoke up.

"Although the spirit of an