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.”