Wow.... And I just today wrote this little story about Aziraphale, his time in Sodom and what happened millenia after...
In the twilight of a world not yet lost to time, the city of Sodom lay shrouded in sin, its streets a labyrinth of shadows and whispers. The air was thick with the stench of debauchery, a miasma of decadence that clung to the very stones of the ancient buildings. Cries of drunken revelry and the hollow laughter of the wicked echoed through the winding alleys, a symphony of temptation and ruin.
It was within this den of iniquity that Aziraphale, an angel of ethereal grace and soft-spoken words, found himself a stranger - a being of celestial light in a realm of mortal darkness. Cloaked in the guise of a weary traveler, his true nature was hidden from the prying eyes of the city's inhabitants. As he wandered the twisted streets, Aziraphale's heart grew heavy with the weight of the task before him. He had been sent by the Heavenly Host to bear witness to the depths of Sodom's depravity and, if necessary, to deliver divine retribution. A task he had joyfully embraced at first, because he so loved humanity. Had loved them ever since he had given away his sword to Adam.
As the night settled in, the angel got comfortable in the town square, a pompous, however filthy place but there was no other place he could lay his head.
It was Lot, a man whose soul still clung to the fading embers of righteousness in this forsaken place, who found Aziraphale on his way home. Â
"Good sir, you must come inside," Lot urged, his voice tinged with desperation. "The darkness of this city is not fit for one such as yourself. Please, let my home be your shelter."
âGood man, do not worry about me. I am just perfectly fine out here,â the angel answered, his voice soft and kind and everything that would ruin him in a place like this.
âPlease⊠do not let my hospitality go unanswered.â
Aziraphale hesitated, his celestial senses attuned to the growing unrest in the city. "I thank you for your kindness, good Lot," he replied, his voice soft and measured. "But I fear the darkness has already set its sights upon me."
Nevertheless Aziraphale indeed accepted the invitation and soon found himself in Lotâs humble abode where he met the manâs lovely young daughters and his soft-spoken wife.
It didnât take long until their fragile peace was interrupted. A bang at the door, the sounds of the mob outside rose to a crescendo, their demands echoing through the night.
"Bring out the stranger!" they cried, their drunk voices like the howling of wild beasts. "Let us fuck him, as is our right! Heâs a handsome fellow. Donât keep him all to yourself." Their roared with laughter.Â
Lot's face twisted with anguish, and he turned to Aziraphale, his eyes pleading. Aziraphale's heart ached for the man, his compassion warring with the knowledge of what must be done. But then, the sound of soft whimpers drew his attention to the shadows, where Lot's two daughters, their eyes wide with fear, cowered behind their father.
"Lot," Aziraphale said gently, "Do not heed these wicked men. I will go outside andâŠ."
Lot shook his head, his shoulders sagging with the weight of his impossible choice.
"No. Absolutely not. No⊠," he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. âI will goâŠâ
Quickly he opened the door and closed it behind himself just as quickly.
âNo, my friends. Donât do this wicked thing.â He begged the rioting crowd that immediately began to mob him, demanding entrance into his house. âLook, I have two daughters who have never slept with a man. Let me bring them out to you, and you can do what you like with them. But donât do anything to this man, for he has come under the protection of my roof.â
Aziraphale's eyes widened in horror at those words, his heart aching and bleeding as the whimpers of the two girls turned into terrified sobs.
He stepped forward, opened the door and pulled Lot back inside.
"Lot, you must not do this," he said, his voice firm with conviction. "Your daughters shall not bear the sins of these men. I will not allow it."
The young women clung to each other, trembling in terror as the mob's cries grew louder and more insistent.
"Father, please!" they pleaded, their voices laced with anguish. "Don't give us over to these monsters!"
Aziraphale's heart broke at the sight of their fear, and he knew he had to act. With a wave of his hand, he conjured a radiance that pierced the darkness, striking the mob with sudden blindness. The men stumbled and cried out, their cries of lust turning to wails of confusion and pain.
Aziraphale stood tall, his expression a serene contrast to the chaos that swirled around him. "This blindness is not just of the eyes, but of the spirit," he declared, his voice resonating with divine authority. "May it guide you back to the path of righteousness, lest you be consumed by the flames of your own depravity."
As the men scattered, Lot stared at Aziraphale, his mouth agape. "You...you are no mere traveler, are you?" he whispered, his voice tinged with awe and fear.
Aziraphale turned to him, his gaze filled with a deep, abiding sorrow. "I am an angel of the Lord, Lot," he said, his words heavy with the weight of his mission. "And I have been sent to deliver you and your family from the impending destruction of this wretched place."
Lot's eyes widened, and he fell to his knees, his hands trembling. "Then...then what of the others?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "What of the people of Sodom?"
Aziraphale's expression darkened, a single tear tracing the curve of his cheek. "Their fate has not yet been sealed," he said, his voice laced with a profound sense of regret. "The sins of this city have reached the ears of the Almighty, and Her judgment is swift and merciless⊠unless now⊠they repent. MaybeâŠ"
The daughters, their faces pale with terror, clung to their father, their sobs echoing through the night. "What will become of us?" they cried, their voices trembling. "Will we be spared from this doom?"
Aziraphale turned to them, his eyes filled with a mixture of compassion and sorrow. "You, my dear ones, have been chosen to be saved," he said, his voice gentle but firm. "For you have not been tainted by the wickedness that has consumed this city. You shall be taken to a place of safety, where you may find peace and a new beginning."
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a crimson glow over the city of Sodom, Aziraphaleâs heart was a tumult of hope and trepidation. The angel, cloaked in the guise of a weary traveler, had returned to the city days later, yearning to witness a transformation. He moved through the streets, his celestial senses attuned to the faintest whisper of change.
But the city lay in the grip of its own depravity, unchanged and unrepentant. The air was thick with the stench of sin, and the cries of the wicked echoed off the walls like a malevolent chorus. Aziraphaleâs spirit sank as he realized that his divine intervention had not steered the hearts of Sodomâs men towards redemption.
The night was still when the heavens unleashed their fury. A roar of divine wrath shattered the silence, and the sky ignited with a fearsome light. Aziraphaleâs eyes, wide with horror, watched as fire and brimstone cascaded down upon the city, each ember a harbinger of destruction.
The earth trembled beneath his feet, and the cityâs edifices crumbled into dust. Screams of terror rose from the throats of Sodomâs inhabitants as they scrambled for shelter, their faces twisted in agony. The very air seemed to burn, and the once vibrant city was now a hellish tableau of fire and chaos.
Aziraphale, his heart heavy with sorrow, moved among the fleeing masses. His presence was a calm in the storm, his touch a balm to the burning. But even his angelic powers could not halt the destruction that rained from above. The city was being consumed by the wrath of the Almighty, its sins cleansed by flame.
As the dawn approached, the once mighty city of Sodom lay in ruins, its legacy reduced to smoldering ash and memory. The cries of its people had been silenced, and all that remained was the echo of their final momentsâa testament to the cost of wickedness.
Aziraphale, his wings now grey, covered in ash, looked upon the devastation with a weary eye. The destruction of Sodom was complete, its people lost to the annals of time.
And so, Aziraphale, the gentle guardian, continued his earthly vigil, his love for humanity undimmed. For in every heart, he saw the flicker of redemption, a spark waiting to ignite the flame of grace that could banish the darkness forevermore.
The streets of London in the year of 1999 were alive with the vibrant pulse of a city that never sleeps. The air was filled with the cacophony of honking cars, chattering crowds, and the distant melody of a street performerâs song. It was a tapestry of life, each thread a story, each color a different shade of human experience.
Yet, in the midst of this bustling metropolis, a discordant note struck the ears of those who passed by Trafalgar Square. A street preacher, his face contorted with fervor, stood upon a makeshift pulpit. His voice, laden with fire and brimstone, lashed out at a young queer couple who had dared to show their affection in public.
âYou are an abomination! Sodomites, the lot of you!â he bellowed, pointing an accusatory finger at them. âRepent, or the fires of hell shall be your eternal bedfellow!â
The couple stood frozen, their hands clasped tightly. Their eyes, once bright with the light of shared affection, now dimmed with the sting of public scorn. Around them, a crowd gatheredâsome with faces of sympathy, others with smirks of agreement.
It was then that Aziraphale happened upon the scene. His heart, a vessel of divine compassion, ached at the sight. He remembered Sodom, not as the preachers proclaimed, but as it truly wasâa city destroyed not for the love between its people, but for their cruelty, their lack of hospitality, and their willingness to harm the innocent.
With a grace that seemed to still the very air around him, Aziraphale approached the preacher. His presence was like a gentle breeze against the harsh winds of judgment.
âSir,â Aziraphale began, his voice a soft yet undeniable force, âI stood in Sodom. I witnessed its end. And I tell you now, the sin for which it was destroyed was not love. It was the absence of it.â
The preacher faltered, his tirade interrupted by the calm certainty of the angelâs words. Aziraphaleâs eyes, blue as the skies above Eden, held within them the wisdom of the ages.
âLet me show you,â Aziraphale whispered, and with a touch as light as a feather, he opened the eyes of the preacherâs soul.
Visions of Sodomâs true sin flooded the preacherâs mindâthe cries of the needy ignored, the stranger turned away from the door, the violence that lurked in the hearts of its people. He saw Aziraphale there, a beacon of hope amidst the chaos, his hands extended in a futile offer of help.
The vision shifted, and the preacher saw himself in the men of Sodom, his words a mirror of their malice. He felt the weight of his own cruelty, the sharp edge of his judgment cutting into the flesh of anotherâs spirit.
As the vision faded, the preacher found himself back in Trafalgar Square, the echo of his own condemnations ringing in his ears. He looked at the couple, really looked at them, and for the first time, he saw not sinners, but two souls in love.
Aziraphale turned to the young people, his smile a silent balm to their wounded hearts.
âFear not,â he said, his voice barely above a whisper, yet heard by all. âYou two, you are wonderful. And you are loved. So very much.â
And with that, the angel stepped back, melting into the crowd, his mission complete. The preacher, his heart forever changed, lowered his head in contemplation. The couple, their spirits lifted by the angelâs intervention, embraced, their love a quiet rebellion against the darkness of ignorance.
In the aftermath, as the city continued its endless dance, a single question lingered in the airâa question posed by an angel who knew the true cost of judgment and the infinite value of love: What would the world be like if we chose compassion over condemnation?
And somewhere, in the heart of London, an angel walked on, his gentle presence a testament to the power of love to change even the hardest of hearts. For Aziraphale, the work was never done, but each heart changed was a victory, a step towards a world where love reigned supreme.
