Post by cmunn on Jan 11, 2022 12:01:07 GMT -5
John Constantine, Hellblazer # 11
“Mysterious Ways, Part 2 of 2”
Written by Chris Munn
He hadn’t been prepared for this.
Sure, he knew there was always a chance of running into some old soul he’d known in life while he trudged through the arctic fields of Heaven. Granted, most of the dead he’d known were far more likely to be in Hell, but there was always a possibility. John Constantine looked up, the snow and ice that had been billowing around him only moments before was melting before the woman walking toward him. Her bare feet caused grass the brightest color of green to sprout with each step she took. The ravenous angels that had come so precariously close to slicing him into edible morsels had fled into the maelstrom above, chastised for their impudence.
She smiled at him, and it brought him to tears.
“My son,” she said as she placed a glowing hand beneath his chin, lifting his head up to look at her, “my darling baby boy. I never thought I would see you again.”
“Mum,” Constantine whispered, causing her smile to widen into a cascade of brilliant light, “this can’t be happening.”
Mary Anne Constantine embraced her son, healing his soul of all malady and ache. Her smile buried daggers into his heart, a brilliance of loving features bathing him with the warmth of sadness and unbearable guilt. “I killed you,” he said, nearly sobbing, “I’m so fucking sorry, I killed you.”
“Hush now, baby boy,” Mary Anne said, her fingers combing through his mess of blonde hair, “you did no such thing. I gave my life to bring you into this world, it’s what needed to be done. Do you understand? It was what was meant to be. Your wee twin brother and I were the sacrifice for the world to have you in it, love.”
“I remember your picture,” John said, trying to compose himself as he withdrew from the embrace, “from when I was a lad. Dad eventually burned everything of yours in a drunken fit, but I was old enough to at least remember the picture.”
"Try not to blame your poor dad, John," she said, "he was in pain, submerged in an underworld of shame and guilt. He blamed himself for what happened to me, the silly sod."
Anger flared, warming John from the inside, demon blood boiling in his veins. "It was his bloody fault! He killed you and he sure as shit didn't blame himself, he blamed me! Every fucking day for sixteen years!"
"Aw, son," Mary responded as she stood up, reaching down to take his hand in hers, "I forgave him for that long ago. I gave him the same thing you need…"
John stood on shaking legs, warmth finally flowing through his lower extremities. "What do I need, Mum?"
She smiled and turned toward the brilliant horizon, leading her son to salvation. "What everyone deserves before the end," she answered, "a state of grace."
“Mysterious Ways, Part 2 of 2”
Written by Chris Munn
He hadn’t been prepared for this.
Sure, he knew there was always a chance of running into some old soul he’d known in life while he trudged through the arctic fields of Heaven. Granted, most of the dead he’d known were far more likely to be in Hell, but there was always a possibility. John Constantine looked up, the snow and ice that had been billowing around him only moments before was melting before the woman walking toward him. Her bare feet caused grass the brightest color of green to sprout with each step she took. The ravenous angels that had come so precariously close to slicing him into edible morsels had fled into the maelstrom above, chastised for their impudence.
She smiled at him, and it brought him to tears.
“My son,” she said as she placed a glowing hand beneath his chin, lifting his head up to look at her, “my darling baby boy. I never thought I would see you again.”
“Mum,” Constantine whispered, causing her smile to widen into a cascade of brilliant light, “this can’t be happening.”
Mary Anne Constantine embraced her son, healing his soul of all malady and ache. Her smile buried daggers into his heart, a brilliance of loving features bathing him with the warmth of sadness and unbearable guilt. “I killed you,” he said, nearly sobbing, “I’m so fucking sorry, I killed you.”
“Hush now, baby boy,” Mary Anne said, her fingers combing through his mess of blonde hair, “you did no such thing. I gave my life to bring you into this world, it’s what needed to be done. Do you understand? It was what was meant to be. Your wee twin brother and I were the sacrifice for the world to have you in it, love.”
“I remember your picture,” John said, trying to compose himself as he withdrew from the embrace, “from when I was a lad. Dad eventually burned everything of yours in a drunken fit, but I was old enough to at least remember the picture.”
"Try not to blame your poor dad, John," she said, "he was in pain, submerged in an underworld of shame and guilt. He blamed himself for what happened to me, the silly sod."
Anger flared, warming John from the inside, demon blood boiling in his veins. "It was his bloody fault! He killed you and he sure as shit didn't blame himself, he blamed me! Every fucking day for sixteen years!"
"Aw, son," Mary responded as she stood up, reaching down to take his hand in hers, "I forgave him for that long ago. I gave him the same thing you need…"
John stood on shaking legs, warmth finally flowing through his lower extremities. "What do I need, Mum?"
She smiled and turned toward the brilliant horizon, leading her son to salvation. "What everyone deserves before the end," she answered, "a state of grace."