Job sat down in his kitchen. What the angel had just told him set his mind reeling.

“A wager?”

The angel took a cup from the shelf in the corner, drew a ladle of water and filled the cup. It sat the cup in front of Job.

“I’m afraid so,” it said.

Job grabbed at his hair. He thought about everything he’d lost. His family, his cattle, all of his money, and even his own health had been destroyed. His happiness lay somewhere in the ashes scattered across the front of his home.

“Look,” the angel pulled up a stool and sat next to the man. Its wings tucked themselves away into its back. “I’m not really supposed to tell you about this, but none of us think it’s fair.” It put a reassuring hand on Job’s shoulder. The man took a drink of the water.

“So,” the man began, “I’ve spent my whole life worshiping Him and honoring Him. Then, what? One day He decides it’s okay to let the Adversary screw with me?”

“Well, in His defense, it was supposed to prove how great you are.” Job stood up.

“That makes it all better, thank you.” The angel stood too.

“I’m not trying to defend Him. I’m just telling you what He thinks.”

“I know. It’s just,” Job threw his cup against the wall, “I can’t believe that He did this to me.”

“It’s not right,” agreed the angel.

“That’s it. I’m going to kill Him.” Job went to the closet in the main room of his home and began rummaging through it. The angel followed closely behind him.

“Um…you do realize that’s not possible. He can’t be killed.” Job slid a small box out of the closet. He held it up to the angel and the room seemed to grow darker.

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” said the man.

“No…” The angel’s eyes opened wide. The man, in response, took the lid off of the box and revealed a small glowing speck. The angel recoiled at the sight. As bright as the speck glowed, it illuminated nothing. As Job took it between his fingers, it emitted a high pitched whine.

“This has been handed down since the time of Adam,” began Job. “My family protected it just in case it should ever be needed.”
“The Beginning…” muttered the angel.

“Exactly,” replied the man. “A piece of the Beginning. This transcends Him. This will blot out His light, and without the light, He’s no more.”

“Job,” the angel was on his knees now, “You can’t kill God.” Job knelt down and whispered into the dying angel’s ear.

“I’ll give Him your regards.” Job stood up and put the lid back on the box. He grabbed his cane and made his way towards the mountain where he normally met Him. He recited the list of everything he’d lost because of his creator’s whim. A full accounting would have to be made.