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Authors: David B. Riley
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backyard privy at around one in the morning. I passed Charlotte Browning, asleep on the parlor sofa, with an empty bottle of sherry on the floor. About the time I arrived at the privy, my brain recollected it was my book resting on her lap.
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Chapter 5
THE ANGEL OF DEATH
Once I completed my business, I quietly returned inside. Now, in addition to Charlotte, I sensed another presence. I was chilled right down to the bone when I saw what lurked in the parlor. If I hadn't just gotten rid of it, I'd have had poop where it shouldn't be.
There was this tall fellow in a black hooded robe. He was holding a sickle. It was obviously the Grim Reaper himself. I must say, that's about the last thing one expects to see.
And all I could think about was how glad I was I'd gotten dressed in my dungarees instead of moseying around in a nightshirt.
He pointed at me. “Are you Miles O'Malley?"
My throat went as dry as a pile of Death Valley borax. “Yes, sir,” I meekly answered. I then realized he was holding my book.
"The French version is better. French, it's not an easy language to translate. I think page fifty-three is impossible, in any language."
"I haven't gotten that far,” I replied. “I only read the first chapter."
He set the book back on Charlotte's lap. “I've come for you, Miles O'Malley."
"Wait. I can't be dead. I'm too young."
He pulled back the hood and sat next to Charlotte at the end of the sofa. He looked like anyone, though he had very pale features. “Nobody ever wants to see me. It's always, ‘oh no,’ or ‘I can't be dead.’ Even the ones in agony don't want to see me. Fellow was stuck in a mine cave in, legs broken, just yesterday. Was he glad to see me? The only one who could relieve his suffering? Was he glad to see me? I'll say he wasn't."
This Death guy stood up. He sure was tall. “Well, let's be off, Miles."
"How'd you know it was my book?” I asked.
"Your name's in it, inside cover,” he answered.
"How did I die?” I asked.
He swatted me on the side of the head. “You're not dead. Did I say you were dead? Come on. God wants to see you."
"God?"
"Yeah. Let's not keep Him waiting,” Death said.
I shrugged. “Let's not."
He grabbed me by the hand. Nick was not the only supernatural entity with cold, clammy hands. “You'll like this."
I, a simpleton-turned-miner-turned-barber, had been quite puzzled with Nick's interest in me. Then, along came some demons and a trip to hell—the real hell; not to mention meeting four different angels, two of which I got to know intimately. Now, the harbinger of death shows up in my house and tells me God wants to see me. This may seem odd, but I wasn't all that surprised by it. Things were getting mighty strange in my life. But, somehow, it just did not seem that strange at the time.
I don't know how or why, but we were flying with little sensation of movement. We entered a swirling tunnel of light. We whizzed along for a bit and finally emerged in what looked like a field of clouds. As we got closer, I realized we were approaching a massive, sparkling city. Death deposited me in front of an enormous golden gate. Then, I was alone.
Then I wasn't. An older fellow dressed in white robes was looking me over.
"What have we here? You strike me as being more the type of person we send off to hell,” he advised me. “Not heaven material at all.” He shook his head.
I sighed. I hadn't allowed the demons to intimidate me. I sure wasn't going to allow this guy to. “My good fellow, whomever you are, I have an appointment to see God. Please tell Him I have arrived."
He shook his head. “I think that is most unlikely. We haven't had anyone so ordinary as you since—” he thumbed through a book that seemed to be hovering in front of him somehow, “Uh, are you Miles O'Malley?"
"I am."
"Oh, well, welcome to heaven.” He clapped loudly and the gates opened. “Well, go on in."
"How do I get...” A golden chariot
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter 5
THE ANGEL OF DEATH
Once I completed my business, I quietly returned inside. Now, in addition to Charlotte, I sensed another presence. I was chilled right down to the bone when I saw what lurked in the parlor. If I hadn't just gotten rid of it, I'd have had poop where it shouldn't be.
There was this tall fellow in a black hooded robe. He was holding a sickle. It was obviously the Grim Reaper himself. I must say, that's about the last thing one expects to see.
And all I could think about was how glad I was I'd gotten dressed in my dungarees instead of moseying around in a nightshirt.
He pointed at me. “Are you Miles O'Malley?"
My throat went as dry as a pile of Death Valley borax. “Yes, sir,” I meekly answered. I then realized he was holding my book.
"The French version is better. French, it's not an easy language to translate. I think page fifty-three is impossible, in any language."
"I haven't gotten that far,” I replied. “I only read the first chapter."
He set the book back on Charlotte's lap. “I've come for you, Miles O'Malley."
"Wait. I can't be dead. I'm too young."
He pulled back the hood and sat next to Charlotte at the end of the sofa. He looked like anyone, though he had very pale features. “Nobody ever wants to see me. It's always, ‘oh no,’ or ‘I can't be dead.’ Even the ones in agony don't want to see me. Fellow was stuck in a mine cave in, legs broken, just yesterday. Was he glad to see me? The only one who could relieve his suffering? Was he glad to see me? I'll say he wasn't."
This Death guy stood up. He sure was tall. “Well, let's be off, Miles."
"How'd you know it was my book?” I asked.
"Your name's in it, inside cover,” he answered.
"How did I die?” I asked.
He swatted me on the side of the head. “You're not dead. Did I say you were dead? Come on. God wants to see you."
"God?"
"Yeah. Let's not keep Him waiting,” Death said.
I shrugged. “Let's not."
He grabbed me by the hand. Nick was not the only supernatural entity with cold, clammy hands. “You'll like this."
I, a simpleton-turned-miner-turned-barber, had been quite puzzled with Nick's interest in me. Then, along came some demons and a trip to hell—the real hell; not to mention meeting four different angels, two of which I got to know intimately. Now, the harbinger of death shows up in my house and tells me God wants to see me. This may seem odd, but I wasn't all that surprised by it. Things were getting mighty strange in my life. But, somehow, it just did not seem that strange at the time.
I don't know how or why, but we were flying with little sensation of movement. We entered a swirling tunnel of light. We whizzed along for a bit and finally emerged in what looked like a field of clouds. As we got closer, I realized we were approaching a massive, sparkling city. Death deposited me in front of an enormous golden gate. Then, I was alone.
Then I wasn't. An older fellow dressed in white robes was looking me over.
"What have we here? You strike me as being more the type of person we send off to hell,” he advised me. “Not heaven material at all.” He shook his head.
I sighed. I hadn't allowed the demons to intimidate me. I sure wasn't going to allow this guy to. “My good fellow, whomever you are, I have an appointment to see God. Please tell Him I have arrived."
He shook his head. “I think that is most unlikely. We haven't had anyone so ordinary as you since—” he thumbed through a book that seemed to be hovering in front of him somehow, “Uh, are you Miles O'Malley?"
"I am."
"Oh, well, welcome to heaven.” He clapped loudly and the gates opened. “Well, go on in."
"How do I get...” A golden chariot
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