The Reluctant Angel-Conclusion

The Angel in the grey suit walked the city streets, taking in the sights and sounds of a normal day.

He listened as the cab drivers screeched in and out of traffic, occasionally shouting obscenities out their open windows to other drivers who impeded the journeys.

He tipped his fedora to the the ladies that he passed, who were endlessly gossiping about their neighbors and what happened on last nights reality shows.

He would nod his head at the gentlemen who were complaining about the results of last nights baseball game while intertwining their disgust for the state of the economy.

He stopped at the crosswalk to await the light to turn green.

As he waited, he was approached by a man, grasping and displaying a leather bound book.

“Have you been saved, my good man?” He asked as he waved the book in front of him.

The man in the grey suit turned to look at him and plainly replied,

“In order for me to be saved…you must be implying that I have been abandoned….the only thing I plan to abandon is answering your question, allowing you the opportunity to save your breathe….good day…sir.”

The man in the grey suit, properly tipped his fedora and began to cross the street just as the light changed to green.

The man with the book was left to decipher the reply to his question.

As the pedestrian traffic lessened, the Angel had an opportunity to glance at his himself in a storefront window.

He saw the fedora that rested atop his head.

The slightly oversized grey casual suit that covered his upper and lower body.


The worn grey tennis shoes that served as the vehicles that covered his modes of transportation.

He smiled at the sight of himself and how his transition Angel scoffed at his choice of footwear to go along with the required attire.

He then, changed direction and headed for a spot to reflect.

He walked toward the center of the park, following the path that was covered with sidewalk chalk portraits and drawing left by the artists of the future and took a seat on a bench, conveniently shaded by a large oak tree.

Once again, he took in the sights and the sounds of a much different area of the city.

The children laughing.

The mothers….mothering.

The jogger’s…jogging.

He looked up and saw a single white dove glide through the air and perch itself on the bench next to him.

It tilted its head side to side at him, then put it’s beak down and grabbed a bread crumb that was left from whomever sat and ate there before he arrived, and flew back up into the sky.

He watched it with wonder as it effortlessly glided through the air.

He wondered if the choice he made was the correct one.

Angel heard a noise and turned his head upward toward the power lines that cross crossed around the park.

A gallery of black crows perched on a number of the lines, resembling a combination of musical notes, cawing at each other.

They just sat there, perched high above the hustle and bustle of the cities occupants….watching.

Again, he wondered if the choice he made was the right one.

He sat back on the bench, shut out the noise of his surroundings and waited for the aura of peace to settle the reluctance of his decision.

As the peace slowly came, he was reminded of the last conversation he had with the Angel who wore the immaculately shined shoes, before he was released back into world as an Angel himself.

“So…why do we go back, if not to show proof that Angels exist?…and how am I even here…when I wasn’t even on the list? I saw the look of surprise on your face when you first saw me in the room of the waiting dead…”

The Angel paused. Then reluctantly answered the questions to the best of his knowledge.

“Because proof leads to belief that the theories of faith have been correct. That will lead to wars caused by each faction of faith believing that their theory is more true than the next. We cannot encourage proof that we do not have, which is why we go back without wings.”

“I still don’t get it….”

“Even we, who are given the title of ‘Angel’ do not have the answer. The answer lies somewhere in the grey area between birth and death. To this point, all we know is life on earth itself is a heaven that is not appreciated and is becoming a hell that most are tolerating. Our purpose for going back is to ensure that the search continues for the peace there that we have found….here.”

“O…k….and the list?”

“That is another story that I was hoping not to tell you….but you asked…so I must tell. It is my duty….”

After another reluctant pause…he began.

“The human state of being is bound by destiny. Destiny is bound by three fates. Fate 1 is conception to birth. Fate 2 is the amount of time allotted between birth and death. Fate three is the existence after life. The completion of the three, results in individual destiny. Each stage of fate is monitored by a selected group of Angels. Each list that is compiled is checked and passed along to the next. From fate 1…to fate 2….to fate 3….where the transition choice is given. Your name was on the list, but was flagged by the angels of fate 2 because of its uncanny similarities between you…and I. Name, cause of death, gender…the sameness was uncanny. The Angel in charge of the destiny file decided it was a misprint and left your name off the list without bothering to check if it was correct…or not.”

Angel sat up in his chair and exclaimed,

“A freaking MISTAKE??”

The Angel chuckled and replied,

“More of an oversight than a mistake…remember…we were all once human…angels are not perfect, nor were we intended to be. Which is why we seek the ones who search for answers instead of believing out of fear of damnation or promise of salvation. Your imminent destiny was always tied to mine.”

Angel opened his eyes and let the peace he has found intermingle with the sounds of the city.

As he looked around him and wondered if this place could ever put differences aside and search as one, he was reminded of the gift that the Angel who wore the immaculately shined shoes gave him.

He reached into the jacket pocket of his casual grey suit and pulled out a pocket watch.

He opened it up and looked at the simple inscription that was inscribed on the plate opposite the face of the clock-

“The search for answers covers many terrains and takes time….wear comfortable shoes.”



The Reluctant Angel-Part 5

“No one really knows the true history when it comes to Angels. Not even I….and have carried the moniker and it’s responsibilities for so long I cannot fathom it’s distance in respect to time.” The man in the grey suit began.

“Whatever the truth is…it has been changed, altered, glorified and twisted by myth, religion, holy and common folk and of course the passage of generation to generation. My purpose in that equation is to give you the information that has been passed to me and allow you to make you own judgement on the direction of your transition.”

As the man in grey paused, Angel took it as an opportunity to ask a question.

“Ok….so far, I gather that you are an angel….and I am dead awaiting my transition into…something…..what I don’t get is it seems you are telling me I have a choice to make?”

The man in grey continued his pause in order to properly choose his wording. He then spoke plainly and clearly to avoid any miscommunication.

“Young man….the human race remains human because of its ability to choose. Death and it’s after effects are no different. You will be allowed 1 final choice to cement the end of your “human” existence and into your transitional one. Choice is what separates the man from the animal. Your choice will be as simple as what separates the ‘angels’ from the birds.”

He paused again and waited for the inevitable question.

“I don’t understand your obvious riddle…but what I do understand is that I will be getting wings…right?”

The man in the grey suit smiled and replied.

“I am not offering you a menu of choices from an appetizer menu…no you will not “get” wings. If you will kindly let me finish, you will get a better understanding of my so called riddle and be better informed to make your choice.”

Angel sat back in his seat and waited for the Angel in the grey suit to continue his story….all the while wondering how he hid his wings under that grey suit.

After another short pause, the Angel in the grey suit, shifted his back to get settled, and began to tell the story.

Our story begins in the time of Noah, a story be which I am sure you are familiar, whether “god fearing” or not. During that time period, the angels roamed the earth along side man. Wings were not needed to distinguish between the two. The angels wore cloth of either white or black made from a silk only found in a far away place that could not be reached by the meager technology of man at that time. The colors did not distinguish good or bad, sinful or pure, one people from another. It was a rare time in the history on the Earth where people bonded through similarities in beliefs and not in similarities of color. Rather, they distinguished the difference in temperament held within the tones of the angel that wore them. Black represented fear. White represented compassion. Within those representations, the commoners of the world received their guidance. Each group flourished in its own way under the color of their choosing. Unfortunately, the differences ultimately began to wear on the ones whose beliefs did not coincide with either.

There can never be, simply black or white…there is always a grey area.

As each side tried to gain dominance of faith, in an effort to declare one stance, instead of a divided one.

The man known as Noah, received a message through the wind, that a great flood was coming to stop the bickering of the angels. He was to build an arc and carry a coupling of each animal species upon it until the waters receded, in order to save the planet from ruin.

The head of the black cloth heard of Noah’s plan and was immediately suspicious, and went to Noah.

“Noah…I understand you believe the earth will peril in a watery death. You are not of angelic decent and have no right to place fear into the hearts of my people…..I am and that is my doing. I demand you stop this foolishness and join me. You could be a wonderful addition to the black cloth. I could make you renowned beyond your wildest expectations.”

Noah answered with a fearful tone,

“ thank you. I must follow my beliefs and build the structure needed to sustain life.”

The angel of the black cloth left frustrated yet pitied the poor man.

The angel of the white cloth also visited Noah.

“Master Noah, I have heard the news and wish to ask if we may be of any assistance. We have differences in beliefs but still you cannot build a mammoth arc by yourself. Please, let us help, and during that time we may find common ground to strengthen each other beliefs.”

Noah returned his request with a compassionate reply,

“I do thank you for your offer, but I must deny approval. I must complete the task on my own and take only the passengers who believe in the prophesy from the wind”

The Angel of the white cloth left Noah, confused by his denying help yet pitied the poor man for thinking anyone who wasn’t an animal would believe this “prophesy”.

As the years went by, the arc continued to be built. The animals were preparing for the voyage, the angels of the black and white cloth continued to vie for dominance of belief.

Noah was looked at by both sides as a fool.

When the rains began to fall and the animals began to board. The land began to disappear. Both sides of the Angel factions went to Noah again.

“Noah, we must be allowed passage in your craft.” They both pleaded.

“I am sorry to you both, but, the specifications of the craft will not allow it. After all the animals have boarded, I will have room for 2 sets of small creatures. One set may be white and one black, to represent both of your beliefs but that is all that will fit. I will not bend in that request. If you wish to be represented and not perish with the flood you must act quickly.”

The leaders of each cloth returned to their followers to decide a plan of action.

Each group were stout in their belief that the waters would recede before the land was gone but to be sure that their beliefs would carry on, if all was lost, the 2 most prominent members transformed themselves into small winged creatures.

Wings and flight made perfect sense. It allowed them to board the arc as animals yet separated themselves from the four legged creatures that they were forced to share the ride with.

The angels of the black cloth chose the crow as their vessel.

The angels of the white cloth chose the dove as their vessel.

Both sets of birds glided into the arc just as it rose off the ground.

Noah greeted his winged passengers and placed them in cages to insure safe passage.

“Whoa…whoa…whoa..” Angel said interrupting the story.

“You are telling me that Angels didn’t fly until the biblical arc?”

The man in the grey suit plainly replied,

“What I am telling you….is the history of events as I had been told. Much like every other story…ever told…the truth lies somewhere in the middle between the absurd and the real. You are not here to verify the truth of the story…you are here to make your choice after I am done telling the story.”

With that short interaction…the story continued.

It seemed like an eternity that the rains fell. Eventually, they did stop.

Noah stood on the bow and gazed out across the waters hoping to see a glimmer of land.

He saw none.

He went to the cages of his winged passengers to ask for help.

“The rains have stopped. The best way to find land will be to set you free….one in each direction of the compass. I ask you to fly as far as you can. If land is found, please return with a twig from the direction of your flight to guide us to imminent safety. I will leave you to make your decision.”

The crows made their decision first.

“We will find land and bring you to it but only if you decide to follow our beliefs. We are larger and stronger than the doves and could cover more ground in less time. We are your only choice.”

The doves then made their decision known.

“We will do our best to find land. You provided us safe passage and we wish to provide the same.”

Noah looked respectively at both cages and opened the dove cage.

The doves exited their cage, bowed their heads to Noah and spread their wings to fly.

The crows clawed and cawed at the cage angry that they were not chosen.

Noah left them to continue their rage.

Weeks past with no sign of the doves.

Finally on a cool full mooned night, Noah caught a glimpse of a single white dove in the distance.

The bird returned with a single twig.

Dry land was near.

Upon docking of the arc on the banks of the shore, Noah opened up the doors of the raft and let the animals exit.

Each animal thanked him…except the crows who angrily cawed and flew away.

Shortly after, Noah died and awoke in this place.

He was met by the white dove that did not return with a twig.

The dove transformed back into the angel of the white cloth and spoke.

“You have taught me much of the power of choice and belief. I wish to reward you by giving you the opportunity to help me. Once a human has passed…his work is not done. They must help the next generation succeed in progressing to the next level of civilized unity. Everyone will die….but not everyone will be up to task of going back. We will present them with a choice. The choice being to fight for the advancement of the human race or to gain flight. Nothing more. The deeds of their life will decide if they are to be a crow or a dove in flight…that will be a choice that is made for them.”

“Are you telling me that you are Noah?” Angel asked as he sat up in his chair.

The man in the grey suit sighed and replied,

“No. What I am telling you that through the passage of time I came here by way of my untimely death by gunshot and was told a story and given a choice. Most are not told the story. They just have a choice.”

Angel curled his brow in confusion,

“So….why me? Is it because we have a few gunshot wounds in common?”

The man in grey smiled.

“No young man. The fact that our deaths are similar and our names are the same means nothing but coincidence. I chose to tell you the story because our beliefs are the same and for whatever reason, neither of us was on the list of the deceased upon arriving……I have told you all I can tell you. Please choose your transition…..fight…or flight.”

Angel sat back into his seat and took in all that the man in grey had to offer.

And then made his choice.


To continue on to the conclusion… “here

Photo from-deviant art

The Reluctant Angel-Part 3

As Angel continue to succumb to that aura of peace that overtook every particle of his being, he began to accept that the life he knew….was no more.

He didn’t know where he was, why he was here, or what would happen next.

All he knew was that he was dead.


All he could do was wait.

And hope that he didn’t have to converse with any others of the newly dead that congregated in the room for waiting.

His eyes forced themselves open after hearing an odd yet familiar sound.

It was an argument between a mother and her child.

It almost made him giggle, and probably would have, if not for the absurdity of the scene.

As Angel watched the confrontation, he concluded that they died when their house caught on fire, due to the child’s curiosity or maybe it was a fascination with matches.

The mother sat opposite him with the child standing in front of her.

Their hair had been completely burned off. Their scalps still smoldering. Their skin charred and drooping off parts of their arms and legs. What was left of their clothes had melted in with the skin that was supposed to protect them.

“How many times have I told you to leave them alone?” The woman scolded as she tore a piece of cloth from the bottom of the smoldering nightgown she was wearing.

“I know, momma.” The child pouted.

“If I have told you once…I have told you a thousand times. Now look at me and stand still. We have to look presentable for the transition.”

The Mother spat in the blackened cloth and proceeded to wipe what was left of the child’s face. Trying to remove the soot.

“That hurts, momma…and smells gross…did you brush your teeth today?” The child griped.

“Shut up, child and stand still. Do you have ants in your pants?”

“No..the fire is eating my pants…it burns!”

The mother paused, put her rag down, placed her burned hands on her hips and said,

“And who’s fault is that, little miss fire starter?….hmm…..WHO’S FAULT IS THAT??”

Angel shook his head and got out of his seat and headed up to the clearing at the front of the room.

As he passed the first row of chairs in the waiting of the dead room, he noticed what seemed to be a glass window on the wall he faced, about 15 feet ahead.

Behind the window, sat a woman who was seemed to be monitoring the occupants of the waiting room.

The woman behind the glass looked up as Angel approached and quickly stated,

“If your name has not been called, it will be based on the order of the deceased.”

Angel calmly replied,

“Well, could you at least tell me how many deceased are ahead of me?”

The woman quickly shot back-

“Why? Do you have an appointment elsewhere? Where on earth could you possibly have a appointment? Ohh…that’s right…you can’t…cuz you’re dead…..”

Angel just stared at her in stunned disbelief.

“No one ever gets my jokes anymore. Sarcasm was supposed to be my way to the top…instead it got me killed….and here. Name and cause of death….”

Angel shook his head and thought-

“What sort of afterlife job fair are they running here?”

He paused then spoke,

“Ohh…sorry. Murdered by gunshot. Davis…Angel Davis.”

She stopped looking at her list and back up at him and asked-

“Your name is Angel?……Angel Davis? Riiight….and I’m the Virgin Mary….I know Angel Davis….and you sir…..are no Angel Davis!”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” He replied.

She looked up at him and then glanced to the right. She lifted up her hand and pointed her index finger in the same direction and then spoke.

“Ask him.”

Angel turned his head to follow her point and was faced with the man in the grey suit. He glanced down at the floor to make sure he had the immaculately shined shoes on, then back up to the top of his head, where the fedora sat.

“Mr. Davis….it’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I had planned to speak with you before your untimely demise….but your fate had it’s way with changing our destiny. Please follow me, so we may get properly acquainted.”

Angel looked at him, as he generously smiled, with a look of confusion.

The man in the grey suit slacked his smile and returned a similar look of confusion, cleared his throat and spoke.

“Pardon me for my rudeness. I am still taken aback by our greeters sarcasm and tone with the recently departed who have come here. My name is Angel…….Angel Davis and I am the transition coordinator. Please….follow me.”

The coordinating Angel began to walk down the hall.

The recently murdered Angel followed.

The greeter quickly flipped through her list, looking for the name, Angel Davis, on her list.

As she came to the end, with no luck, she flipped back to the front to start again.

And again.

And again.

As she was looking a forth time, she was shaken out of her one name seeking frenzy by a tap on the window.

She looked up to see a different coordinator staring at her. He also wore a grey suit.

He frustratingly looked at her and said,

“Well….who’s next?”

She shook herself out of her daze and replied,

“Ohh…sorry Angel….next is Donnie Kendle….cause of death…drowning. He’s the little boy with the robot.”

Angel shook his head and replied,

“Thank you.”

He then turned toward the waiting room and knelt down and called out to Donnie who was playing with the burned girl.

Donnie looked up, smiled at hearing his name being called and sloshed over to Angel, where he promptly coughed up murky water before asking a question.

“Do you want to play with me.”

Angel smiled and comfortingly replied,

“Yes….yes I do. Playtime is my favorite time.”

He gently took Donnie’s hand and winked at the greeter as he led him down the same hallway that Angel Davis was led down, just moments before.

She smiled and with that single wink from Angel, she completely forgot what she was doing before he arrived.


To continue the story press “here