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It was direct angelic inspiration which drove him, so he said. The voice of the divine, speaking in his ear. It had taught him, guided him, and directed him since he was but a child. Everything in his life had been structured according to the angel’s ineffable plan.

For many years, it seemed, he was guided well. He had a beautiful wife, obedient children, and an enviable house, and had enjoyed a meteoric rise to a position of considerable power.

Naturally, however, the course of every meteor terminates in a sudden, sharp end, and this end was sharper than most.

It was only then, surrounded by the bloody and mutilated corpses of his beautiful wife and obedient children, amidst the ruin of both his enviable house and his influential career, that he began to foster the tiniest suspicion that, perhaps, his guide was not quite as seraphic as he had believed.

© Kari Fay

(Author’s Note: The Three Word Wednesday prompt this week was Angelic, Foster and Ruin.)

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