Passion's Storm

From the moment that I walked into the bar, I had noticed the gentleman sitting at the end, cradling a drink. The first thing that I noticed was that I couldn’t really describe his face. I couldn’t pick up any distinguishing features on it. I sat down next to him, and ordered a beer, giving a glance in his direction. The Rolling Stones were playing on the jukebox, and I all of a sudden found myself thinking of the song "Sympathy for the devil"

"Hello." The man next to me said. The voice somewhat startled me, so I turned to him as I pulled a cigarette out of my pack and began to light it.

"I hate to sound too much like a beggar, but I was wondering if I could make you a deal. For a couple of cigarettes, and a couple of beers, I will tell you a story."

"It had better be a damn good story..." I responded, casually tossing a cigarette over to my new found companion.

"Thank you, Michael Birch." He lit the cigarette, and blew the smoke across the bar, seeming to enjoy the flavor. I ordered him a drink, and while the bartender went away to make it, The gentleman continued the story.

"Once again, thank you for your kindness, Michael Birch. The story that I am going to tell you is about an angel, and his fall from the grace of God.

"The angel’s name was Raphaem. He was created to be the collector of souls. A lot of mythologies had called him the angel of Death, which I guess in some ways, was true. He had collected the soul of Abel, and many, many more souls since. He had loved his job, for he knew nothing better than it, and it had kept him in contact with the lord God’s greatest creation, the human race. The complete spectrum of this job was that he would sever the soul from the corporeal realm, take the soul up for judgment, and then guide the soul either to the gates of hell, or the gates of heaven, depending on how the soul was found.

"This not only brought him in contact with the angels, but the demons as well. Now this angel had done his best to serve God, to his best abilities, and had shunned the speeches of the demons, even just walking away from Lucifer himself, which was a chore, let me tell you. Even though he is the root of all evil, there is not a more charming soul in the spiritual realm than he. Which kind of makes me wonder how he could have been cast down in the first place. Thank you for the beer, Michael." That was when I had noticed that a glass of wine had been placed before him, I found myself a little bit lost, and now I had wanted to hear the rest of this story. There was just something calming about the sound of this man’s voice: that I just wanted him to continue.

"His job was going extraordinarily, until he collected the soul of Theodore Asbel. In his soul, he found the soul of Anarchy. Mr. Asbel refused to be taken up for judgment, proclaiming most brashly that if he were to be judged, then let the heavenly host come to him. I had come across this problem before, and usually I would just let them wander the earth as lost souls until they were ready to achieve their Fate/Destiny. But this man was something different, and he had decided to take to following me around. It was not as if this man was an obvious sinner. Aside from his brash proclamations, he seemed to be the kindest, and most gentle soul that Raphaem had ever encountered. He also was calm with the fact that he was dead. Mr. Asbel was a complete mystery to him. He seemed to notice when Raphaem was trying to lead him to the gates of heaven for judgment, and would do anything in his power to put a stop to that.