rattlesnake.
#16
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The savage in man is never
quite eradicated

Word Count » +3

The stories he knew were not full of light. God was cruel. This was the truth, and nothing could change such a thing—God had sent His only Son to die, God had killed to test His followers, and God had laid His hand down to smite the just and unjust alike. Deep in the Old Testament was a God who came with a sword in his hand and love in his heart. This was what Ezekiel believed, and what he knew as truth.

In a way, this was not so different then finding a book and believing it truth, as Myrika had done. Ezekiel did not think she was lying; why would she? Besides, to find something written by men about their downfall would be fascinating. Dead and dying civilizations were anomalies to him. Sodom and Gomorrah came to mind, as did Rome, Jerusalem. If they remained, he would never see them. He had no desire to cross unknown waters chasing ideas or even something as powerful as a Holy Land.

If Gabriel’s betrayal and abandonment hurt him, Ezekiel did not show it. He kept his eyes on the bird, pulling feathers and placing them into divided piles. “He was a great leader,” the Aquila surmised, unwilling to speak of him as a man. “Without him, I don’t think Inferni would be here today.” This too, was the truth. Ezekiel finished with the second wing and leaned over, grasping for his bag. The top was flipped open with one hand, which proceeded to dig about for a single small glass jar. The clear object contained a collection of tiny white bits of what might have looked like sand to an untrained eye.

He did not use much of the salt, rubbing it onto the skin gingerly just to heighten the already pleasant taste. Seasoning was something he had never thought much of before, but he did enjoy experimenting now and again. This task done, he picked up one of the sticks not yet sacrificed to the flames. With a few well placed jabs, the log-house contraption sunk into a pile of hot coals. Pleased with himself, Ezekiel maneuvered the bird onto these.


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