Some churches had decided that all supers belonged to Satan, or that they were modern-day Nephilim, unholy and unnatural. Some said powers meant nothing more than any other talent, able to be used for wholesome or sinful purposes, just another manifestation of free will.
And some, well... I sure don't feel like a messenger from God, but I guess I can't stop them.
"Guardian Angel!" I heard the shout as I arrived on the scene of the fire. An older man leaned out of the window of his apartment, one I recognized from church. None of the firetrucks on the scene yet was a ladder truck, so I dove in to grab him, spreading wings of light to hover outside of the window.
"Bless you! Thank God for you!" he gushed as I pulled him out the window. I nearly lost my balance as I took his weight. I didn't have any super-strength, but I'd been working out specifically for situations like this. Even so, my arms were shaking just a little when I set him down.
Sunday was awkward, as he praised God's intervention and the angel He had sent. I buried my face in my hymnal and murmured "hallelujah" and tried not to blush. Maybe it was time to find a new church...
originally sponsored by Riha in the Spring Fiction Birdcage