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"I will not steal the mascot!"

"You most certainly will, or else."

"No. I refuse. You can't make me violate my conscious. I'm out."

"Where'll you go? You have no where to go, but here."

"We'll see about that. I don't have to do as you will."

"Then you'll die."

The Celestial opened his eyes. His meditation was over. He stood up and stretched. He looked at his surroundings before him. Peaceful, quiet, serene. Night had already fallen and he beheld a canopy of heavenly white dotting the sky. Toffit. What made Toffit toffit, he wondered. This planet in particular distinct from Earth as anything good at all? Was it because of celestials as citizens of glory---of occult powers that were preternal in nature?

Samson tensed up. Why now. He could feel in his flesh growing anxiety from within. He knew there was no good reason for this other than the will of his enemy who intended to subvert him to do evil, by stealing the golden calf.

Then you'll die. The words were lodged in his brain like a malicious joke done in jest. It gave way to a vision of three fall rushing for him presented to his mind, one carrying a long blunt object. The violent assailant thrust it forward, impaling the celestial. Samon snapped out of it, though the temptation remained substained.

With ferver and zeal, Samson pressed forward and dove for a thorn bush just ahead of him. He felt a blanket of bee-like stings pricking his flesh as he tumbled into a roll, branches and leaves getting mixed in with the thorns and carried along with him into the bush. The celestial winced though held his tongue, gritting his teeth without so much as letting out a sign or a whisper of pain. He smiled and looked up at the night time sky with all of it's beautiful glittering white landscape. A thought came to him that suggested getting out of the thorn bush and back into the open in order to clean up and tend to the damage inflicted by the thorn bush.

This thought seemed good to Samsung, who felt an inner prompting that filled him with consolation to snap out of his meditation and get a move on it. Filled with an inward peace that reassured him all was well, he struggled to break free from the thorns and thistles embedded in his clothes and flesh, dragging some of it along with him as he left the bush. He removed the rest of the vegetation off and cleaned up, checking the marks and damage inflicted upon his body from the experience. He felt relieved to know his clothes remained intact without any aparent indication of what had happened. The same couldn't be said for his flesh as red marks, scratches, and bloody spots remained, a minor injury that smarted and stung as expected. He would definately need to tend to the injury and wash up to prevent an infection, as unlikely as it would be that he would suffer one. One couldn't be too cautious when dealing with nature on alien worlds, even on his own home planet of Toffit.

Edited by Messanger, Jun 9 2018, 05:41 PM.
Holy Mother Of God, pray for us.
Saint Michael, pray for us.
Holy Guardian Angel, pray for us.
Saint Joseph, pray for us.
Saint Francis De Sales, pray for us.
In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
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