The first thing Danny noticed upon opening the door was the light, unnaturally bright and oddly colored.
The second thing he noticed was what the light was coming from.
A creature stood on the sidewalk, seeming to be turned towards the street -something Danny was unsure how he knew, considering the numerous different animal heads littering its body, all set facing different directions.
The light appeared to be coming from atop the being, something akin to a crown of pure energy glowing from its place over twenty feet up, reflecting off of the thing’s body like the way the moon reflects the sun. Blue and gold and purple and black burn bright, shifting and shimmering like some messed up kaleidoscope, highlighting an impossible number of limbs, yet leaving no highlights or shadows on anything that isn’t the creature itself.
Six massive wings stretch asymmetrically from the body of it all, the largest set nearly a hundred feet across, the smallest a still impressive thirty feet. Most of the wings looking singed and rotted despite the healthy sheen on the remaining patches of iridescent black feathers. White bone glints through what flesh and sinew is left.
The sight of the being is startling on its own, but the quality of its image makes Danny’s head hurt. It seems as if the thing appears smaller than it is, like looking at a highly detailed image that’s been shrunken down and compressed. And like that isn’t enough weirdness for one thing, its form is almost superimposed on the form of a regular human man, although Danny can’t actually see anything about the man because of how bright everything is.
One of the men at the door is saying something but Danny can’t hear him, electricity humming loud in his ears, wrapping him in the smell of ozone and Danny knows it has to be coming from whatever it is that’s standing on the sidewalk in front of his house.
Reflexively squinting, Danny does what he does best (or worst depending on who you ask). He opens his stupid mouth.
To his immediate and immense horror, the thing seems to turn towards him at his words, form shifting and rippling, the sound of electricity picking up in volume. Fear shoots down his spine at the thought of having the creature’s attention, but it just stands there for a moment, all its heads slightly tilting in perfect tandem. Lightning and petrichor sit heavy on Danny’s tongue, scent so strong he practically chokes on it, as the being speaks.
“I am an angel of the Lord.” The man’s voice is gruff and matter of fact, but the angel (holy shit angels are real?) sounds of thunderstorms and cloudy days, so close to ghostspeak but somehow more ancient and primal. “What, might I ask, are you?”
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