My Visit with the ArchangelA Story by Scott FreeThis is a now-finished short story. It was somewhat inspired by a book I just read by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett--'Good Omens', a satirical book about Armageddon, the Antichrist, and the end of the world. It was fun to writeI woke up in a waiting room. At first there was that terrible disorientation when you can't remember what happened last--but I remembered going to sleep. Was this a dream, then? I looked down at my pants, fearing the worst. Phew! I wasn't in my boxers. And this wasn't the office...so it wasn't one of those dreams. Over this fear, I looked about. The waiting room was painted eye-squintingly white--everything was white, nearly. The carpet was white, and so soft it looked like a cloud. No one else was in the waiting room except for a woman at the counter. When she found my sheepish eyes on her, she dinged that little bell those receptionists always have. "Mr. Laney, he will see you now." The way she said 'he', you could hear her pronouncing the capital letter. I stood up and walked over to the counter. "And, uh...who am I here to see, ma'am?" That question probably would have caused any normal receptionist to go into conniptions or something, but this woman kept her cool. She sure was weird. "He will introduce himself, young man." I found myself walking down the hall. I came to a door that said 'Dr. Gabriel, Ph.D.' I stopped and blinked, then blinked again, then turned the knob. The room was surprisingly non-unique. There were charts and drawings from little kids, busts of hearts and other bodyparts--I almost didn't look twice. But when I did, I was taken aback. For one thing, there was a line of busts--the first showed a perfectly good heart other than a large hole right in the center. The second in the line showed the hole filled up with blackness--the heart didn't look too good either. The third showed a glowing heart with the hole filled with...a cross? That was weird. And then in the middle of the room there was a large swivel chair with a high back. So high was the back, in fact, that I could not see the man on it. I wanted to get out of there, get out of this dream or whatever it was, so I began to close the door. "Come in, Mr. Laney. You have an appointment." He turned around. He was the kind of man who was so handsome you really didn't like him. He didn't even have to smile, he was that handsome. Long, golden hair hung down to his neck, curling like it had spent several hundred years in the irons. His nose was high bridged and held his shades perfectly on his face. "Dr...Gabriel?" "Just Gabriel, Jim, just Gabriel. Have a seat." "How do you know my name?" Gabriel paused. "How couldn't I? You are, after...oh." "Oh?" Gabriel took off his shades and transfixed me with bright, electric blue eyes. "She didn't tell you?" "Tell me..." Gabriel sighed and smacked his shades down on the desk. "It's always harder when you have to tell them yourself," he muttered. Then he looked up at me and said, "I'm an angel." I looked at him without saying a word, so he went on; "An archangel, really--you know, Gabriel of the Golden Locks? The Annunciation--'And behold, you will conceive in your womb and bring forth a son?' Is any of this ringing a bell?" "Um...yes, I know who Gabriel is. But...he's an angel." "Yes, I am. I believe I said that." I chuckled crazily. "You're not Gabriel." One blonde eyebrow raised. "And what makes you so sure?" "I--" Of course, I wasn't sure. "Ah, yes. I forgot, I'm in a dream, aren't I?" "Well, in a manner of speaking, you are. You're in the same kind of dream that Joseph was in when I told the silly kid to go ahead and take Mary as a wife. The same kind, in fact, Muhammed was in--the poor guy. I ask him to recite one verse, one verse, and he goes away and creates a whole religion!" Gabriel flipped his shades back on and leaned back in the seat. "So...do you want me to recite a verse or something?" "No. We both know you haven't read the Bible since sixth grade. What I wanted to do is ask you for a favor." "In the name of God?" "Yes, it's actually He who is asking you." "God doesn't need favors from humans. Does He?" "He sure doesn't. But He likes them every once in a while." "I see...so what is this favor?" Gabriel smiled, just a bit. "Jim, the time has come. Or just about nearly." "The...time..." "Yes. You've heard of the Rapture before?" I couldn't say anything. "Good. Well, it's coming, as you've probably guessed. Or it might be." "What do you mean? You don't know?" "Well, uh," the archangel glanced at the ceiling, "no... I mean, none of us do, except Him. But I'm guessing it's soon. I do know that you have a mission." "Me? But...I'm not a Christian! I don't go to church or anything." "Precisely. He doesn't want one of those." I sighed. "What's my mission, then?" A deck of cards was in Gabriel's hands. He shuffled and reshuffled it. "In this day and age, missionary work has gone really far. No longer can missionaries go to the long-lost tribes in Africa. They've heard it now." "What's that have to do with me?" Gabriel raised one finger for silence, which looked rather strange since he was still shuffling the deck. "You have heard that once everyone in the world has heard the gospel--whether they've accepted it or not--the Rapture will come, right?" "Um...I think I have." "Well, it's true. And right now, there's just one more person that hasn't heard it." "What?" "A Ms. Ariel Blunt, resident of New York, New York. Never heard the gospel--no one's ever talked to her seriously about it. And you, sir, are the lucky one." "What? How will I find her? New York is a big city!" "I know that. She will be at the ball dropping. I am sure you plan on attending?" "I wasn't..." "Well you'd better make some plans then. And...if I were you, Jim," Gabriel leaned close. "I'd get ready for what's coming afterward." "Uh, yes...thanks, Gabriel." "No problem, Jim. Be seeing you. I hope, for the rest of eternity." There had been a steady beeping filling the room for the past five seconds. It had grown in magnitude every moment, and now it was very loud. I opened my eyes on my bed in my room. The clock was beeping louder than ever. I reached over and touched the button--it stopped. "I need some coffee," I groaned. I stood up like Frankenstein and tromped out to the kitchen. My hand had a mind of it's own (from habit) and reached for the button on the receiver. "Two new messages." "What? The coffeemaker's broken?" "Yesterday. Six. Thirty-five. PM. Beep." My sister's voice came over the line and I cringed. "Hey Jim--what's up with you and Esmerelda? She called me and said that you aren't talking anymore. We really thought that she was the one for you, Jim. Why dont' you get back together?' I grunted. "Today. Seven. O'Clock. AM. Beep. Hello, Jim. I'm calling to tell you that the dream you had last night was just a dream. Not real. No sireee. Just forget all about it. If you want to talk and have some coffee, meet me at Starbucks." I froze. The voice was completely unfamiliar, and very unnatural to boot. Plus, there was a lot of background interference in the message. It sounded like the caller was phoning in the middle of a big forest fire. Dazed, I slipped some clothes on and walked out into the ice and snow of the last December morning in New York. Kids around my apartment building shouted 'Happy Christmas' and 'Merry New Year' and things like that. Even though Christmas was over. Kids on my block didn't quite seem to get that. I wasn't thinking at all about the strange call--about how the man had known about my dream, and why he had said not to pay attention to it. I wasn't even thinking. I was just walking. The Starbucks was packed from end to end with people balancing laptops in their hands and on their heads in some cases. Commuters on my block are very touchy about their computer equipment. Somehow my gaze stopped right on Him. He was a well dressed man sipping coffee in the corner, his gaze fixed right on me. Something in that gaze said, Come here, Jim...or you'll regret it. I went to him. "How's it going, Jim?" "Fine, uh...Mr..." He raised a dark eyebrow, as if daring me to say another word. A large, ugly black fly landed on his lapel and he petted it's wings. "Mr. Laney, you had a dream yesternight--er, last night. Correct?" "Um...yes." "And what happened in that dream?" "I..." I hesitated, then told him all. I was afraid not to. He listened with the air of a tiger about to strike. The fly flew away. "I see. And what do you think of this dream, Mr. Laney?" "I think...I don't know. It's just a dream." "Very true. And will you find yourself at the ball dropping tonight?" "Why, no! I never..." my voice trailed off. "Mr. Laney," the dark-haired man sighed, sipping his espresso, "you are a believer in the philosophy of absolute truth, are you not?" "Well...it seems more logical than God and Heaven, yes." "So, to you, good and evil are just names for sides. Right?" "Um...yes." "Good." The man almost reached out to pet my head, but thought better of it and stood up. "Keep your thinking that way." He walked toward the door. As he got near it an employee stopped him and, though I was across the room I heard the words like a heartbeat in my mind. "You didn't pay your bill, sir." "What? Oh, no, I didn't buy anything." I thought that strange. I saw him drinking an espresso...wait, no it was a mocha. What was it he had been drinking, anyway? "Sir, I saw you drinking back there." "Get out of my way, fool. I have an important place to get to." "You need to pay your bill, sir. What's your name?" The man grabbed the worker by the shirt and rumbled in his face, his eyes pulsating angrily. "Beelzebub, Prince of Hell! Now get out of my way!" And suddenly he was gone. I looked at the astonished employee, then at the checkered table I sat at. I stood up and slowly walked to the counter. "May I take your order?" came a soft voice from somewhere in front of me. "Uh, yes, I'd like...an espresso." I forced a smile to my face. "Sure thing," Gabriel said, winking. "You going to the ball dropping tonight?" My jaw moved up and down, my eyes bugged, and someone bumped me from behind. "You gonna order, bud? There's other people in line, here." "Uh..." I nearly gagged. "Yes, I am going, I think...thanks." Gabriel smiled. "No problem."
More than a million people show up for the ball dropping in Times Square every year. I never did. I barely ever watched it on TV. I tivo'd it once, and was so disappointed that I never talked about it again. The police ushered me and a huge crowd of other people into a pen far away from the actual 'action'. Which is to say that if I squinted, I could just see Times Square and the pole with the ball on top of it. I was jostled and thrusted back and forth, but I took it like a ship weathering a storm. Which this basically was, minus the wind.
Beelzebub watched atop a spectacular advertising Loehmann's through a pair of binoculars. He spotted the target--Jim Laney--and the threat--Ariel Blunt. By Satan, they were in the same pen! This Prince of Hell was sure he had more than coincidence to thank for that. Beelzebub packed the binoculars away in a trenchcoat pocket and leapt off the spectacular, floating down on a pair of dark wings. Over hordes of Manhattaners he floated, and the strangest part was that no one seemed to notice him. "Excuse me, sir?" the Prince of Demons felt a tug on his slacks. He looked down-- a police officer at the edge of the pen was halting him. "Uh, yes?" "This pen is full. You'll have to...er...fly up the street a ways." "But I--omigosh look! A stampeding herd of buffalo!" "Right sir, we get that one a lot. Now, look--" the officer began, but was interrupted by screams and cries of 'watch out!' from up the street. He turned and blinked in surprise as a huge herd of Arizona bison came charging down 47th, trampling pens and police. Beelzebub cackled and settled down in the pen. The walkie-talkie at his side fuzzed and a voice came through. "Kssh--Astaroth to Ba'al, Astaroth to Ba'al...come in, Ba'al." "Gotcha, Astaroth, this is Beelzebub." "Dude I love this...I mean, uh, what is the situation?" "Have the target in my sights. Do you copy?" "I copy. Proceed to the target and stop him from reaching threat." "Alright. 10-4, then, good buddy." "Over and out. Kcch." Beelzebub put the walkie-talkie into his pocket and proceeded to plow through the crowd towards the target. "Hey there, Ba'al! Fancy seeing you here." Beelzebub looked right into the face of Gabriel, who grinned at him through his shades. He was wearing a close-fitting black sweater and his hands were tucked into the pockets. "What? Get out of my way, you goody-good. Don't make me outwit you." "Where you going in such a hurry?" "None of your business." "Listen, Bees. You can't stop God. You already tried tempting the guy; you failed. Now just let history run it's course." "Ha! You don't know what it's like, serving Lu down there. You're so happy up in your Heaven. I can't just let it go--Lu would kill me!" "You're a demon. You can't die." "You know what I mean. He'd put me in hellfire for the rest of eternity!" "Well then, Bees...I have no choice but to stop you." "If you can. I've got wits, angel." "Yeah, well--" Gabriel lifted his hand, and Beelzebub sprang into action. Instantly his wallet appeared in Gabriel's hand. "STOP! THIEF!" Beelzebub shouted with glee, moving back through the crowd. The goodhearted citizens of Manhattan, always ready to do a good deed, instantly leapt on the bewildered Gabriel and hauled him to the ground. "Come back here, you!" Gabriel shouted as he went down. The Prince of Demons hurried through the crowd, heading for the target.
I knew immediately when I saw her. There wasn't a halo around her head or anything. I just knew it was her. She was watching something behind me. I turned and saw a huge wave of brown bodies coming up behind me. What were five thousand Arizona bison doing in the middle of Manhattan? Strange. The police were ushering us out of the pen as the beasts charged through them; and then, the police just ran and left us to fend for ourselves. I leapt for the sidewalk as they thundered toward us--and then I looked back and saw her, tripping on a trampled body. "Ohh boy," I sighed. "Time for some heroics." She was pretty cute, I thought to myself as I dove back into the street--much to the surprise of those around me--and grabbed her by the hand. Her hair was long and bright gold plate blond, I also noticed as I ran, her arms around me, back to the sidewalk. The buffalo flew past on their stampede. She gasped for air, not believing what had happened in the last sixty seconds. She looked up into my face with bug-eyed blue eyes. "You--I was--thank you," she finally shoved out, chest heaving. "You're welcome, miss," I said, setting her up on her feet. "Are you alright?" "Yes, yes I am. Thank you so much," she sniffed and managed a smile. People were staring at me. "Well, uh... I..." I never had much courage; certainly not enough to tell this girl about God right in the middle of a crowd in Manhattan, nonetheless--I hardly even believed it myself. And then a strange thing happened. Suddenly, I didn't care what anyone else thought--I just suddenly knew deep down that nobody's opinion mattered. I could throw off my clothing and run through the streets yelling 'Happy New Year!' and I wouldn't care. It was...a strange feeling. I stopped stuttering, grinned and said, "Did you know Jesus loves you?" It was a corny thing to say, I know. But it was all I could think of. And then the old feeling of 'Ohnowhatisthisgirlgoingtothink' came back and I froze from embarrassment. "Excuse me?" Just what I thought she'd say. Suddenly Beelzebub was standing next to me. "Now, Jim, didn't we talk this over?" he said calmly. "I--uh--Gabriel--" I stepped back and he advanced. "Absolute truth, Jim, absolute truth," he growled. I saw the demon beginning to come out in him. "You--where's--" My mouth rebelled and wouldn't get out two words that went together. My back hit the wall. His hands--no, his claws grasped me by the shoulders. His eyes blazed yellow. "There ain't no guardian angel to help you, Jim. Just me and you." His wicked smile blazed across a blood red face. My heart was stopping with fear, and I looked at Ariel's curious face. Wasn't she seeing this? Didn't she realize a demon was about to rip my heart out or something? Then my gaze fell on Gabriel. He was--watching me. He was watching me. I was suddenly very angry. God had just given me this mission, without asking me, and gotten me mixed up with a demon and--I just couldn't take any more. I willed my heart to beat again. And grimacing at the Prince of Flying Things, I said; "Get behind me, Satan." He blinked. "Huh?" "I said," I shoved him back, "get behind me, Satan! Bad demon! Bad! Get your rear in gear!" He wasn't quite sure how to answer this barrage of words. He backed off for a moment, but then stopped and smiled. "You aren't a Christian, Jim, remember? You haven't read the Bible since the seventh grade." "Sixth." I corrected. "Sixth grade." "Whatever. Non-christians don't--can't fight demons, Jim. Didn't you know that?" "You can just keep it cool, Bees," Gabriel said, stepping in. "This one's with me." Beelzebub snarled and withdrew, returning to his human form. "Is that so, Jim?" I looked at Gabriel's face. He grinned at me behind his shades. "Uh...it is." Beelzebub growled deep in his throat and disappeared in a spray of sulphur and flame. I held my nose. "I hate the smell of burning sulphur," I said. "Smells like rotten eggs." Gabriel smiled and the smell vanished. "Well, Mr. Laney, I'll leave you now. You can expect the Rapture to be coming pretty soon, I think. I don't know of course; that's classified. But you just be ready, alright? You'll probably hear that trumpet soon enough." "Thanks, Gabriel." "No problem, Jim. It's refreshing not having to say 'Fear not' for once in a long while. You're a brave man, Jim. Be seeing you." He stepped onto his marble white Vespa and gunned the engine. "Nice Vespa," I commented. "We all ride them in Heaven. Bye!" And with a zoom he was gone down the road. The buffalo had disappeared. I looked at Ariel. She was watching me with an air of confused admiration. Somehow I knew that before the night was over, I'd be asking for her phone number. And far up the boulevard, so far you had to squint to see it, the ball dropped from it's pole and a new year began. Along with a new start, for me.
© 2009 Scott FreeAuthor's Note
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Added on December 31, 2008Last Updated on April 18, 2009 Previous Versions AuthorScott FreeCaught a wave--am currently sitting on top of the world, CAAboutWhoo! New year, new site...time for a new biography. I am not like any person you have ever met, for the simple reason that if you are reading this chances are you have never met me and probably ne.. more..Writing
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