HEAVEN SENT Contest

As if in a dream, Michael saw her enter the bar. She was gorgeous; long blonde hair draped about her shoulders, with piercing blue eyes and a cute turned-up nose. She was out-of-place in a dive like this. He stared at her for long moments, the alcohol dulling his senses somewhat. Her skin was pale, but not so much that she looked abnormally white, and her figure was just perfect. A smattering of freckles crossed the bridge of her nose, giving her the look of an innocent.

She walked across to the bar and took a seat, then ordered a diet soda. She looked Michael right in the eye, a come-hither glace that sent chills down his spine. He needed no further invitation and moved to join her at the bar. He ordered another whiskey for himself, then began the dance with which he had become so familiar over the past few... how long had he been here, anyway? Hours, days, weeks? Funny, but he could not remember the events preceeding his arrivel, only that there was a lot of pressure at work.

"Hi," he said casually, giving her his trademark disarming smile.

"Good evening," she replied. Her voice had a musical quality.

"I know this sounds corny, but... what's a nice lady like you doing in a dive like this?"

She smiled passively. "I'm looking for someone."

"A friend?"

"Yes."

Michael felt a familiar feeling in the pit of his stomach. The signal was clear enough, but maybe he could salvage a little something from the meeting.

"Well," he said helpfully, "maybe I know him. What does he look like?"

"A lot like you," she said, taking another sip of her soda.

Michael was taken aback for a moment, stunned by her forwardness. This was too easy!

"Would you like to take a walk?" he asked, digging for his wallet.

She nodded and they left the bar, strolling down the beach. The light of the full moon shone on the sand, giving it an unearthly glow, and sparkled off the water.

"So," he said, as they walked, "I'm really at kind of a loss, but I can't seem to recall your name."

"Gabrielle," she replied knowingly. "So how have you been, Michael?"

Another chill ran the length of his spine. Where did he know her from? He focused, trying to remember, but for some reason, the only thing he could recall from the past few months was the bar.

"Oh, you know. Surviving."

She nodded and stopped to pick up a conch shell that had washed up on the beach. She turned the shell over in her hands, admiring it's intricate beauty. "Beautiful, isn't it?" she said, showing Michael the shell. "Isn't it amazing, God's handiwork?"

Michael nodded disinterestedly. When he had first laid eyes upon her in the bar, he had been interested in only one thing. But now... how did she know him, and why couldn't he remember her? For that matter, why couldn't he remember anything?

"Are you a Christian, Michael?"

He stopped, momentarily taken aback by the question. "Once, a long time ago," he muttered in response.

"What changed you?"

"Let's just say that God and I had a falling out." It was strange, but he couldn't recall exactly why he had turned away.

"I see. And so you just stopped?"

"Mmm. More like God abandoned me, so I abandoned Him."

"God doesn't abandon His children, Michael."

"What?"

"God didn't abandon you. You were angry, and He knew that you just needed time to cool off."

"Who are you?" he demanded, his voice cracking slightly. To his drink-sodden eyes, her skin seemed to glow in the moonlight.

"You know who I am, Michael. I am Gabrielle."

"I don't know you!" He was shouting now.

"Do you believe in angels, Michael?"

He sank to his knees, feeling his body growing warm from the inside. This was it, his time of judgement was at hand. "Oh, God," he managed to moan.

Gabrielle was now glowing brightly, and were those... wings?

"Remember, Michael." Her voice was like a pair of voices raised in song.

The warming sensation continued, expanding from the pit of his stomach to fill his insides. It was hot, but not burning. It felt right somehow.

"Think, Michael," she said, her voice sounding like choir now. "Why do you think you can't recall anything beyond the bar?"

He tried to focus, to remember anything else, but could not. He felt the skin of his back rip and tear, and he knew that it should have left him in agony, but for some reason, though he could feel it happen, there was no pain.

"He did not leave you, Michael," the choir sang. "He never left you."

And in that instant, Michael understood. He rose and took Gabrielle's hand. The night parted, and a shaft of light shown down to engulf the pair. With a gentle effort, two pairs of wings began to move, and the figures rose into the sky, disappearing into the light.

In a bar with no name, in a place that does not exist in any mortal realm, the bartender wiped clean a glass and added it to the stack on the counter. The bar was now empty, the patrons having gone. He casually flicked out the light as he left the room. For now, the bar was closed, but he knew that soon he would be back in business. Even angels need a break now and again.