Be Not Afraid

And lo, the heavens parted and an angel descended; his body was like beryl, six wings unfurled from his head, back, and feet, and on each wing seven eyes burned like living flame.

At the sight of this, the traveler collapsed in the dusty road.

“Be not afraid,” the heavenly host proclaimed.

“Oh, I’m not.” The traveler bit her lip, cheeks flushing with a sanguine hue. “I’m definitely not.”

Each eye that burned like living flame—all 42—blinked. “Woman, are you touching yourself?”

“Only because I long to know your heavenly touch,” she panted, her own half-lidded eyes smoldering with brazen desire. “The depth of your Seraphic stroke.”

“Woman, are you defiling yourself on the road?” The angel gestured. “In public?”

“Only because you haven’t raptured me away to the heaven of your bed,” she moaned, heedless of shame or decency, “where you would claim this mortal flesh with the sublime girth of your Empyrean majesty for your own rapacious delight!”

“Woman.” The angel loomed, surrounded by burning wheels of light. “Be significantly more afraid.”