I'm No Angel

I walk alongside prison chaplains and priests accompanying the condemned to the electric chair, scaffold, firing range, or whatever the preferred form of execution might be. They never see me, these ordained ecclesiastics with the professed power to dispense forgiveness but, somewhere between death row and the death chamber, the reprobates do.

Some perceive me as a phantom of the wronged, returning to oversee justice taking its inevitable toll; others as the spirit of a benevolent one who had gone before, materializing now to bring reassurance and the expectation that even the dregs of humanity were loved once...by she who gave them birth, if no other.

But, to the majority, I am the spectral Seraphim of Mercy, descended from Heaven to absolve their sins, deliver comfort and lead them through the Valley into the Light. If they knew that Celestial Being as I do, they would realize He has no compassion for such as they, and would certainly not lift a divine finger to afford them consolation.

In truth, I am whatever they wish to see. I am the Master of Illusion and Disguise...an art perfected throughout centuries. I offer what solace I can for, despite my maligned image, I am not totally devoid of pity. Besides, I have eternity during which to administer my brand of retribution and it costs me nothing to be generous and charitable during mortality's final throes. After death, their essence is mine.

I urge you to sympathize with my position. Lord knows I'm no angel...but I used to be.

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