The silence of angels.

The sunlight failed to break through the thick grey clouds that rested over the town and threatened to start thundering against the gloomy molding wood and brown mud of the town of Augthorpe.

The town had a ripe stench of pigshit that no one seemed to notice after a week or two. Twelve houses, a couple of kennels for livestock, and a single pub for passing travelers, not that Augthorpe got many visitors these days. Not since they built the church, triple the size of the other buildings, and the only one to be built of stone and lined with fine marble

 The villagers walked through the town nodding to one another as they passed. The town was almost completely silent, in corners and from houses a soft murmur could be heard for the briefest of moments, an occasional squeal and clutter of livestock. Breaking through the cloud with its white feathers across its wide wings, an angel soared down to the village, and the residents stood still and stared. Those hacking at wood stopped, some even placed a hand over their mouths, scared that sound might accidentally escape from their mouths. George, a boy of nineteen placed the pig he was carrying on the floor and rubbed its pink and hairy belly, he rubbed its belly to try and calm it. He even placed his hand over the pig's mouth.

The angel spread its long legs, its skin impossibly smooth, and the same color as the sea. Its face was like its features were chiseled out to perfection, just like all of the angels. Its large open eyes and iris reflected the world around them. Their noses were small and thin, their nostrils barely more than slits. Mouths that had been sown nearly completely shut with threads of metal. Where there used to be ears, now just cut gory stumps. Every villager's eyes were on the Angel as he peered at a few of them. He held a large Halberd with one of his muscular arms. The pig in the young man's arms wriggled for a moment before making a sharp squeal. Then a second louder squeal that cut through the village. Before the man could do a thing about it the pig's blood was splashed over him. The angel's halberd stuck into the skull of the animal. The angel's face filled with hate, but then his eyes softened and widened as he stroked at the carcass of the animal softly. A single black tear rolled from the angel's cheek that singed the pig's skin. The boy glared, trying to be as still and silent as humanly possible. The angel met eye contact with the young man and placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder, before marching towards the white Church. All of the villagers watched the angel enter it, and the slightest of worried whispers could be heard dancing around the village.

The young man sighed and stood up, tossing the corpse of the infant pig casually over his shoulder as he walked through the mud, into the home of what was left of his family. The three-story stone house stank a little of mead and molding wood, but there were beds, tables, and chairs. Enough to call a home. George stumbled through the door and lumped the dead pig against the wooden table.

“The Angel arrived. He's in the all-powerful Church, where not a sound comes in or out.” George muttered. His Father Mason frowned at him and put his finger to his lips.

George rolled his eyes, and then flapped his arms like wings, pointed outside, held his hands like handles to a door and opened, then closed them.

Mason nodded.

“Stuck Jimmy for squealing,” George whispered.

His Father Mason shook his head. He flicked his finger around the home and made his hand dive. George rolled his eyes

“We have half the day to use our voices.” Milly, a young girl of seven with wide green eyes muttered as she carried a bale of hey.

“Yes, well it’s a guess. But a whispering has served us well so far”

The father groaned and shook his arms.

“Yes Mary, don’t utter a word about our guests outside this house,” George added reluctantly.

Mason glared at his son and sighed loudly.

“Careful, it's almost like you used your voice.” George sighed a little himself.

“Let's keep our voices to a minimum” he admitted.

George arched his head up to the stairs that led to a wooden landing and wondered for a moment. Mason shook his head and shrugged his shoulders.

George climbed the steps to look upon a boy who lay on a bed of straw with his eyes wide open.

George mouthed to him. “Good morning.” His brother James shook his head. His mop of auburn hair was greasy, and George noticed a slight pong drift from his brother as he got closer. ‘He's barely moved since the angels came.’

“Are you going to get out of bed today?” George whispered, extra quiet.

James shook his head and put a finger to his lips.

A knock came at the door, which was highly irregular these days.

Moments later, the entire village stood at the center of the village, right in front of the pristine church. All sixty-seven villagers, including the youngest and oldest, the ones that remained who had the good sense to stay quiet.

The mayor of the town, A stocky, and rather plumb man stood in front of a pedestal. He nodded and smiled at his people as they came in. Two Angels flanked him, whilst one stood behind him. The Angels looked similar to each other, all light blue of skin, a body and face as if chiseled out of marble, but remnants of perhaps the faces and bodies they used to have, one which wielded a thick broadsword that gleamed of chrome, had slightly shaggy blonde hair, the other which wielded the halberd had thick brown eyebrows. The third, who wielded a long spear with bright gold inlay, didn’t have a single strand of hair on his body.

The mayor gasped at them as they stood, trying to resist the urge to grasp at them. He looked back at his people. The Angels glared at them and then one of them bowed slightly before the three of them shot into the air and blasted through the skies.

Everyone watched them dart away before the mayor cleared his throat, and then all eyes were on him.

“Our most gracious guests, those born of heaven have deemed it fit for us to use our voices, and even speak of them before they return.”

Instantly a mutter spread over the crowd. The mayor let it happen for thirty seconds before he raised his hand.

“This is the only time that I shall allow this freedom. You all know what is expected of you. I don’t know much time we have left, so I shall use it wisely.” The mayor quivered; his voice daringly loud.

A quiet mutter still hopped over the crowd, for some of them it had been weeks since they had used their voice.

“One person per family shall be blessed with wonderful purpose” The Mayor announced. The crowd instantly fell silent and glared bitterly.

“What does that mean?” A mother asked gripping tightly to her son.

“For us to be considered for Rapture, we need to show our Faith. Our Faith requires sacrifice. That sacrifice will help build a monument; we will do it in silence to show that we are worthy.” He announced trying to stand tall and proud as his bulbous belly shook.

“You mean for your rapture.” A lady called out. The mayor pretended he didn’t hear it.

It wasn’t long until the Angels came crashing down and the village fell completely silent again. The families were separated into different groups. The three angels watched them all. George and his family were the closest to where the monument was to be built. So the angels approached them first.

The angel wielding the sword looked each of them in the eye as he paced. George's family stood so close together and didn’t dare move. The sword almost blinded them as it moved around, reflecting the small amount of sunlight breaking through the clouds. James glared back with a visceral, furious glare as the Angel got closer to him. It was the very same one that James feared and hated so much. George dared to look down to his brother, and saw the scowl that James was shooting at the Angel. George rubbed at the back of his brother's shoulders to try and calm him.

The Angel stood upright, then bowed to James, a mocking smile on the angel's lips. James looked to George asking what he should do. George put his hand up and flowed his hand down his body, telling his brother to breathe.

The angel shook his head dismissively before lifting his blade. The angel laughed mockingly, the threads on his sown-up mouth dared to break. The angel dived with his sword at James, but the angel stopped before the blade cut into him. George stepped quickly in front of his brother and pointed to himself. The chrome sword was pulled back and the angel scowled at George. The three soundlessly laughed at one another hopping slightly. The blade was suddenly raised again, this time pointing to George who nodded immediately. The angel nodded back smirking at George's fearful respect.

The rest were picked from each family, by the end thirteen of them stood in a line. The vast majority were younger than George, some by several years. The Angels smirked wickedly at the villagers before shooting into the sky again.

“You lucky few have been gifted with the ability to show your devotion and faith to those most divine and powerful.” The mayor announced, the pleasure flowing through his eyes.  

By the crack of dawn, George was breaking white marble. He had told the younger ones to pile it up together, knowing it wouldn’t be as hard on their bodies. After a while the angels collided with the ground, the mayor came running, yanking the hammer from George's hands and started beating at the pile of marble. The man almost slipped on his long red robes with each hit on the hammer. The mayor lost breath quickly, and sweat dripped instantly from his brow. The young tried to keep their laughter stifled but failed slightly at the sight of it.

The angels moved close to them, and George couldn’t help but stand between them. The Angels’ weapons in their hands inched closer to the young. George's hand was close to another hammer, he didn’t know if it would do any damage on Angel's skin, but he'd be damned if he wouldn’t try.

The mayor grimaced at the children, hoping that the Angels would strike.

All three of the Angels stopped and pointed at George with their sharp fingernails the color of the night, then silently chuckled from their bellies. The one with the halberd, laughed so hard that his own weapon fell on his leg, the darkest blood that George had ever seen oozed from the angel’s leg for a moment before they floated away.

George's body felt like it was about to break, as he softly tore pieces of the roasted chicken from the family table. The sweat made his tunic stuck to his body. But he smiled to his family, as his father made hand signatures to them, James and Milly responded with ones of their own.

“They don’t usually appear at night,” George announced. The other three grimaced and looked down.

“We give everything to them; they can't always take our voices.” He muttered.

His sister made her two first fingers move like legs and put a finger out. She made a triangle with her fingers.

“We can't know if they’ll leave once the monument is built,” George whispered.

His Father put two fingers down like legs that walked, then pointed outwards towards the church. George anger started to rise as he figured out what his father meant.

“If we just follow what they say and do what they want, they’ll want us to do more and more. They have already taken enough from us.” George's voice was an angered shout and everyone in the house gasped and quickly looked to the door. George backed away instantly from his family, not really believing what he had just done. Exactly what his mother had.

He pushed out of the door and saw the three angels and the mayor with his hand wrapped around a pickaxe.

“It was me” he announced.

The Angels fluttered over him and smiled to one another. Poison shot through their eyes

Poison shot through their eyes. George couldn’t catch his breath, as he tried to stop trembling. The Angels glared at him for a moment, before they put one of their bladed fingernails to their stitched-together mouth. George walked quickly, picked up the sledgehammer, and started smacking at the marble hoping to please them. His family watched him from their home. George’s heart pounded, as he kept an eye on how close the angels were to his family. Before long the sun had risen and around him, young boys and a couple of girls tried to keep as quiet as possible as the sun was beating down on them, and they tried their best not to collapse. They stopped themselves from breathing too loudly, they held onto each other, as their bodies started to fail them. The angels stayed watching them, for the entire day, perhaps due to George's mistake in the morning. As the sun started to go down on another day of breaking rocks in the hot sun, George's sister charged towards her brother, keeping her mouth shut, she waved him in for supper a bright smile on her face, thinking that her brother had survived another day. As Milly walked through the field of marble a chip of it flew off from the mayor’s hammer and flew into Milly’s head. She immediately fell over, as blood dripped from her head and she started to cry, the sound bellowed through the sky. George felt the world slowed as the sound reached the angels, who put their hands over their stumps and their eyes fluttered in pain. Milly realized what she had done and immediately grasped her mouth with both hands. The angels marched towards her wielding their weapons.

George couldn’t stand by or be silent for a second longer, the Angels raised their blades and darted toward his sister as she tried to silently weep. He couldn’t let it happen again. The Angel's soared towards her, weapons raised ready to slice. George sprinted to try and move between them but knew he couldn’t reach her in time. He opened his mouth and screamed, screamed so hard it strained his voice. The Angels dropped to the floor. They put their hands to their ears, as blood dripped from their stubs.

The mayor with rage in his eyes turned and raised his hammer to come for George.

Tears of onyx fell from the angel's eyes and sparked on the grass. The mayor pulled his hands back and thrust into George with his hammer. George's scream instantly faltered, and he almost collapsed to the floor. Silence flooded into the village again, the angel's shimmering eyes reflecting the brown mud and white marble around them opened, and their gazes switched from fear to hate.

The angels picked up their weapons, the sword, the halberd, and the spear. James and Milly saw their brother’s death approaching and both opened their mouths and released a violent scream, that vibrated through the air and sent the Angels toppling to the ground. The mayor turned and glared at them.

“No, not my deliverance” escaped his mouth, he tried to charge at them, But George yanked at the hammer, pulling it from the Mayor's grasp. His Brother and sister screamed their lungs out. George joined in, yelling so hard his throat felt like it was ripping apart. The mayor even put his hands over his ears. The Angels seeped tears and twisted in pain. George picked up the Halberd, and immediately stuck it into the mayor’s gut.  

“For those you made silent!” George screamed. The Angels grasped at clumps of mud as they tried to crawl away. Blood splattered on their wings. George got closer to them, picked up the chrome sword, and shoved it through the wings and into the back of its owner. With the Halberd in hand, he pinned the second angel against the mud. Their blood burnt at the spots of grass. Georges and his sibling's voices dared to crack, as they tried to constantly scream. The third Angel struggled to crawl away, then flapped its wings to create some distance. He looked back at George and his sibling, bled from his stumps, and cried onyx tears from his wonderous eyes as he looked at the fallen angels. George picked the angel's spear from the ground. His sibling and he stopped screaming. The Angel pointed at him and suddenly shook his head. Its eyes were bright and warm before he attempted to smile through sown-shut lips. It bowed to George and his siblings individually before taking to the sky. George grasped the spear in his hands and watched as the angel flew out of range. He watched the skies for a long time searching for any signs of the angel’s return.  He looked to his James and Milly, a tear or joy in all of their eyes. They turned to see the village glaring at them, fear in their eyes for a while before the silence was broken with pounding applause and a loud cheer.