Fiery the Angels rose, and as they rose deep thunder roll'd. Around their shores: indignant burning with the fires of Orc.

-William Blake

Screaming Angel

In the depths of Hell, the angels screamed.

Or at least they thought they screamed, as they dared not look at each other to check. There was no sound in this place, this... "Void", as their prime prey's species had called it, this... "Howling" as the Eternals called it or even a term as mundane as "Hell," as the other prey species called it. And even then, they could not be sure they were in that place. And if this place, this realm through the crack was different...

...then the Void was simply purgatory.

No up, no down...not unlike the material world, the world of the prey species, the world that, by all rights, the angels deserved dominion over. The polar opposite to the force of gravity. Ironic that a force as mundane as that had sent them into a force, a realm, as complex as this. All of time, all of space...the angels had experienced it all, had even done what they could not do to each other and had seen it. And now, this-a force that was deadly to both flesh and stone, bringing terror to even a member of a prey species that could be said to be above them. abstract concept now.

This place, this tomb, angels within it. They clawed, they flexed their wings, they screamed yet more, against this place without boundaries. All for nought of course. No prophet would enter their tomb and see even one angel within it. Even with the lesser prey species believing in things that did not exist so far in their pitifully short history, not even they would heed, or even understand their words. For starters, they would have to rely on their primitive form of communication and the Sacred Bob (or was it Scared Bob? Whatever, names were meaningless) was back in the material world.

Eventually the angels stopped screaming. All they could do now was weep.

It had been such a perfect plan, using the radiation of the prey species spacecraft to revive them, to begin the hunt anew after centuries of inactivity, hiding amongst the dead of an even yet weaker species. Who would have thought that a crack in the universe itself would open? Who would have thought that which had saved them would have led to their doom? Who would have thought that a member of the prey species would see their error before they did? Who would have thought that...thought that...?

The angels began screaming again. It was getting hard to think.

One though, was different. One, a god among angels, even without dominion over them. One who had been given insight into the world cut off to them. One who had been given a glimpse at to what had existed, ripe for the taking. One who had seen the most important thing in the history of the universe, a thing that the superior prey species had teased. One who began screaming as well, knowing what he could never obtain.

The angel would never feast.

The angel would never fly.

And most horrific of all, that which the prey had experienced...

...he would never experience the feel of a comfy chair.


Admittedly more of a drabble than a oneshot, and definetly not one of my better entries. Still, with Flesh and Stone being the best episode of Series 5 so far IMO, I found I simply had to write something, even if it was on the spur of the moment. Go figure.