EVERYTHING MUST GO   (2nd & Last)

by Richard Banks

  As usual business was brisk and by 2pm he was almost out of stock when the ranks of his customers were augmented by the Angel.

         “Is it time?” asked Ernie.

         The Angel thought not. He motioned at the few things left on the stall but even when they were gone the Angel seemed disinclined to do anything but observe. 

         “What now?” protested Ernie, impatient to get the dying over with and his new life begun.

         “Everything must go,” replied the Angel, staring at Ernie and the remaining obstacles to his passing.

         “What, not my….?”

         “Everything!” thundered the Angel. He continued to watch as Ernie unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it onto the cart where it was snatched up by a rough sleeper who also laid claim to his shoes and socks. Another man of bedraggled appearance grabbed Ernie’s trousers. He looked thoughtfully, but without enthusiasm, at Ernie’s boxer shorts before deciding that they were best left where they were.

         “Can we get on with it now?” pleaded Ernie clinging defensively to the waist band. “No one’s going to want these.”

          For once the Angel raised no objection and on the peremptory instruction of “follow me” set off between the market stalls, turning left into Railway Parade and second right into a narrow lane of dismal appearance that had somehow acquired the name Paradise Road. He stopped outside a large Victorian building and rang the doorbell. “Tell them who you are and that you have an appointment with the Archangel at 2.45.” Without further comment, the Angel began to walk away.

         “Aren’t you going to stay?” said Ernie.

         “No,” replied the Angel, “things to do and people to see. It’s down to you now.”

         A panel opened in the door and a face peered through it. The voice belonging to the face said, “blimey, what do you want?”

         “Ernie Smallpeace to see Gabriel please, I’m his 2.45. I’ve just died, at least I think I have, to tell you the truth I’m not too sure.”

          “You look alive enough to me,” said the face. “Is this how you usually show up for meetings?”

         “Ernie assured him that the Angel had left him no choice. “Everything must go, he said, so it all has, everything except what you see. Have I not done enough!”

         The entity on the other side of the door expressed the opinion that he had done more than enough to gain admittance. The panel slid shut and the sound of bolts being drawn was followed by the opening of the door. The figure that now came into view was deceptively humanoid, his heavenly attire consisting of a white, knee length coat over a polo necked T-shirt and denim jeans. Reassuringly the initials IHS appeared on his coat pocket.

         “So, you want to see Gabriel?”

         “Yes, that’s right, Gabriel the Archangel.”

         “Oh, that Gabriel. Then you had better come in. My colleague here will show you the way. You follow on and I’ll bring up the rear as they say. Don’t want you getting lost before you see Gabriel.”

         “No,” replied Ernie; this was not how he thought it would be. Slightly reassured by the ascent of two flights of stairs he was shown into a small, windowless room with upholstered walls. His two attendants hastily withdrew to the corridor outside and shut the door. By the light of a single light bulb shining down from a protective grill in the ceiling he surveyed the empty space around him and the dark grey, walls that in several places bore the initials IHS. Yes, he told himself he was in the right place. This was no more than a reception area for the necessary processing of new entrants. Once done all would be well and he would be up and on his way, hopefully, kitted out with something to wear. Perhaps, he thought, it might ease things along if he sent up a prayer. He was about to kneel down and cup his hands when the rattle of key in lock heralded the arrival of a visitor. To his relief, the door opened to reveal the Angel and a tall, bearded man who announced that he was James.

         “What, James the Apostle?” said Ernie, wondering if this was a step up or down on Gabriel.

         “No, I’m James from Ilford Health Services. I gather that you know this man and are seeking entry into the Kingdom of Heaven?”

         Although the answer to both questions was yes the accompanying statements of fact did not auger well for his onward journey. “You mean you’re not the apostle and this isn’t heaven.”

         “No,” said James, and whatever my friend may have told you he isn’t an Angel. This is the Paradise Road Psychiatric Unit where I work and this man, when we can stop him from escaping, resides here. If you would also like to stay I can arrange a psychiatric assessment, if not, you had better leave.”

         The Angel frowned and said that this should not be allowed to happen. Although Ernie was a gullible fool he was also a good man who deserved to go to heaven. He had been prepared to sacrifice everything that he owned for the uncertainty and poverty of another world that he sensed and valued but barely understood. He had faith and those with faith should always have their reward.”

         “But why bring him here?” said James, “this is Paradise in name only. Surely you know that?”

         “I do, but no one, even in this grim place, should be without hope.”

         “And what hope have you brought who daily adds to my troubles? Don’t say you are about to leave?”

         “Indeed I am,” said the Angel. I take this man to heaven and would gladly take you. All you need is faith. In faith, there is also hope.”

         “Oh, that again,” said James. “Do you never give up? I only wish you were an Angel but you are just a man.”

         “But I am an Angel,” insisted the Angel, “and if you are not coming we must be off.”

         James wondered what might be said that hadn’t been said before, but he was too late, the conversation had ended and he was alone.

 

The End

Copyright Richard Banks