Angel 7.0 & Silverblack: First

Angel slept in her hammock, her book in her lap, the stars bright overhead, the waves gently lapping, Swan with her front marooned on the beach closeby. Most of the time she slept in her comfortable bed, in Swan, her sailboat. Everything was still fine, intact, with Swan, it was just that when she had arrived at her island she had made the decision to drive Swan onto the sand as hard as she could. She didn't want to go back. She had no desire to leave. Ever. She was an island, in her being, in her personality.

She had come there for a reason. She had carefully chosen her books, her supplies, her Bibles, English, Hebrew, Greek, her theological study books. She had a Master of Divinity that had taken quite a while to achieve. So she had all the books she had bought while taking all the courses. When she had received her degree, her second, because before enrolling she had already completed a MAR Master of Arts in Religion, she had felt proud but unsatisfied. She didn't feel like she really grasped the Holy Bible. Yes, she had taken courses in every book in the Bible, both in her undergraduate years, working on a BA in Mass Communication Radio/TV at the university her ancestors had attended and had a role in founding, and at her Christian graduate university. So, she was trained, she was fully trained. But. It just didn't satisfy her. Her soul thought that something was missing.

She was not just rich, she was wealthy. Wealthy is what you get when generation after generation contributes to the lives of those future generations yet unborn but loved, cared for, and provided for. She wanted to make her own future generations wealthy. She wanted to make them wealthy, not just with money, but with the true gold in life.

So she mined. She had been mining, digging for the treasure, creating treasure maps, plans, searching, and documenting her walk with God for over a decade. It was more like two decades. So, here she was, on her island, with her treasure searching tools in Swan and on her lap, her books, her treasure inside her own self, her generational wealth.

She had had a beautiful condo on the beach in Galveston, with a balcony that overlooked the ocean. She loved overlooking the ocean, the sand, the waves, the changing sky. She loved making a cup of coffee, choosing a book, and reading on her balcony overlooking the ocean. Below, in the condo garage, she had a yellow Corvette. She adored both her condo and her Corvette. But her hunger for treasure hunting, for FINDING the gold she sought, outweighed her contentment, her luxurious lifestyle, granted to her through her own continuous choices and her generational wealth. She knew true wealth. True wealth was waiting for her to go on her treasure hunt, to succeed.

So, she had sacrificed. She had previous experience with sacrifice. Sacrifice resulted in wealth. You had to walk through fire, be willing to lose, in order to gain. "Seek and ye shall find" included the willingness to seek. To really, really seek. That's what caused change, that was the path, she had discovered this in time, as she had walked her life's path that had led to her condo and yellow Corvette.

So, she had decided to buy a sailboat. She had sought out and bought every supply she could envision she would need, and many she bought on whims, and had also purposefully stopped herself from overbuying, overplanning, knowing the value of how God supplied needs when they arose. She had left herself needy, just a bit. She was a luxurious woman, however, and down comforters, plenty of coffee, plenty of books, and chests full of food and survival supplies had gone into her shopping carts.

Then those items had been stored on Swan. She had named her beautiful white sailboat, "Swan." She had done that because in her bedroom, it was a luxurious sailboat but not too big, just her size, was a porthole (and a bookshelf.) The porthole had a clear spot in the middle so you could see out, plus it opened so you could see out. All around the edges, however, were swans. It was a stained glass porthole with beautiful encircling swans. So she had named her sailboat, "Swan."

She had sacrificed her condo, her life, and her beautiful yellow Corvette. She had simply locked her condo door, it had a little cage-like entryway she loved, a set of bars that locked, a barred door, then four feet of space, then her real, normal door. She loved that. It made her feel safe. So she had left her condo nice and neat inside and locked the door and locked the barred door. She had locked her garaged yellow Corvette. But she had left both. Simply left them. She had had her supplies delivered to the brand new sailboat she had bought, docked in the Galveston harbor, and she had requested extra books that would tell her how the sailboat worked, bought extra parts she might need eventually, bought books to teach her how to sail, and she had left her life behind. Condo gone. Yellow Corvette gone. Life gone. Sailboat that she really didn't know how to sail yet, but that had a powerful engine, she had chosen it for that reason, so it was probably in the category of small yacht more than it was sailboat, and she had driven away.

She had driven into her new life, her new path, and she had eventually found her island, way on the far side of South America. She had followed the coastline all around to the other side, it wasn't really that hard to do, and then she had located a cruise ship. She picked a cruise ship that was sailing to French Polynesia, to Tahiti, Bora Bora, Tetiaroa, and Moorea. She found them in a library book that she had with her, had figured out a way to pay for the library book she took, and there she was. Once in Tahiti, she had rented an overwater bungalow and rested. She adored luxury, beauty. Then, she had driven Swan out into the wild blue yonder until she had just felt her way to her island. Being an island, unique, alone, different, wild, beautiful, luxurious, had given her a spiritual sixth sense of where to find her real island, and she had. She had simply driven Swan away from Tahiti, past Bora Bora, into the beyond. Then, she had felt her way to her island until there it was.

There was a single entryway into the lagoon she had claimed as hers. Dark jagged cliffs surrounded her lagoon on all sides. It was so beautiful. The black sand beach was from the fact that it was the top of a submerged volcano, dormant. The jagged cliffs, in a jagged type of circle, were the tops of the ancient volcano, which rested under the waves, a submerged mountain. It was perfect, the perfect island. It was hers. It was hers because her Father, God, simply gave her things, simply led her to her stores, her supplies, and had created her island for her. No one would bother her. She had spiritual grace and protection. She had learned that long ago, through walking with her Father, God, through her training, her generational wealth of knowledge and experience with following God. She called him Yahweh, YHWH, in the vowelless ancient Biblical Hebrew she had learned and studied. Yahweh had created and given her her island, had led her there. Now she lived on her island, with Swan beached nearby.

So, she slept in her hammock, her book in her lap, the stars bright overhead, the waves gently lapping, Swan with her front marooned on the beach closeby. Most of the time she slept in her comfortable bed, in Swan, her sailboat. Now, she had been there several years. Now she knew the answer. Now she had her gold.

Something was different. She felt it as she began to wake with the dawn. It was still dark when she opened her eyes. But when she opened her eyes she saw... what was different... she saw a man sitting on her beach, a man with long hair. She saw a small canoe like craft closeby him, pulled up on the sand. He was just sitting there, looking out at her lagoon. She didn't move. She studied him. He was beautiful. His long hair was jet black, straight, just past his shoulders, gently blowing in the wind a bit. The moonlight that was left seemed to be shining on his hair because it seemed to have silver strands blended in with the luxurious black. It was so beautiful. He was so beautiful. He was muscular, but not a huge man, just her size, a bit bigger than her. She was 5' 5" and 150 lbs. He was a bit bigger than her, perfect, the perfect size. His muscles were apparent, he was strong, he was toned. He was just sitting there on her beach, looking out at her lagoon.

He felt her when she awoke. He let her study him before he turned. He had already studied her as she slept, after he had beached his Va'ar, his canoe. She had been sleeping peacefully, deeply. She was so beautiful. She was delicate but strong, toned. She had short blonde hair, golden hair, threaded with traces of different subtle shades of gold. God loved her dearly, he could tell. He could tell because of God's artistry in his creation of her. He bet she had blue eyes, he couldn't wait to see, he knew her eyes were blue. She was no longer the pure white she must have started with, she was tanned in the love of the sunlight. She was a precious jewel, he just saw it in her essence. He saw her book, she was studying the Bible. He saw her beautiful, expensive, beached sailboat with the stained glass swans porthole. She must be a priestess. She was awake now, he felt her, but he just continued gazing out into the lagoon, waves lapping at his bare feet. She was studying him. He just let her.

Then, he turned. He looked at her, she looked at him. They smiled.

Copyright 2025 Angel Isaacs All Rights Reserved

Written October 9, 2025 at 8:03 pm