After returning home to his backyard Carl knew that something had to be done. The Angels were speaking. It would be blaspheme to not do something. He took the shovel and he dug into the neighborhood with all his heart. His arms became dislocated from all of the shoveling. In his pain he thought of all of those who were in pain under the will of fiendish people. Then there was a vision accompanied by a scream that invaded his mind.
Instantly the shovel fused to his hand and yanked his dislocated shoulders back into place while pulling him straight up into the air high above the city. The vision of Saint Peter flew in front of him comforting him. Inspiring him. The blade of the shovel fused to Carl’s face as if it were a mask.
The Angel of Metal consumed and guided him in a blitz of fire through the air and down at an angle straight through a lawn and dirt into a cemented basement. After the dust and dirt and cement cleared he saw a beautiful twenty-something yr. old brown skinned woman with curly hair. She was barely clothed, and very thin.
she may be confused: instead there was a certain light in her eyes. She knew this was going to happen somehow. She knew someone would be coming for her. She was riding faith. Her body and spirit were resonating with the tone of the Angels, as the Saints consoled Her.