Gabriel Eris

Don't all truly beautiful, -- 
I mean, shamelessly beautiful, -- 
stories begin the same way?


CHAPTER THE FIRST

Once upon a time...

An angel fell to earth, and his name was Gabriel, the voice of God. As he had fallen with nothing but his voice, -- not even his wings, -- and as he was subject to the same needs as mortal men, he had quickly to find some food for his belly and some place to rest his head for the night. He was sure this would be easy.

Now, Gabriel did not know of labour, for in the Kingdom of God, from which he had come, there is no work to be done. Nor did he understand the concept of money. You see, in Heaven, everything is shared in common. The fruit of the trees is more than enough to satisfy the appetites found there, and there are no fences or hidden boundaries to discriminate between what belongs to one soul or to another. In fact, Gabriel didn't even know about shelter. He had always simply slept on clouds under the stars. Oh, sure, there were cold places in Heaven, too. But nobody slept there. Souls multiplied slowly in Heaven, so there was always enough room in the warm places for everyone. But now Gabriel was getting cold.

He knew something was wrong. He was not quite where he should be. He had to find the warm places soon, but he was sure they were not far. All he had to do was discover their direction.

"Kind Sir," he said, approaching a rather worn-looking gentleman with some bundles in his arms, "Won't you tell me the way to the warmth?"

"Huh?" the man replied, clutching his bundles tighter and shrinking away.

"The warmth. The place where it is warm. I seem to have lost my way."

"What the --?"

The man hurriedly stormed away, almost afraid for his life, and sure he had just come into contact with a genuine madman.

"Oh, dear," thought Gabriel, for the first time.

The sun was gradually setting behind the rooftops, and snow was beginning to fall ever-so-gently on the heads of all the people in the square.

"At least there are so many people," Gabriel thought, and cheered.

He mounted the pedestal of a nearby statue, and with a sweeping gesture of his arm, called out to the people all around,

"Gentle people of the square," he called, "I have lost my way and am in need of some direction. Won't one of you be so kind as to tell me the way to the warmth?"

Many of the people went on as though they had not even noticed him. Some of them shook their heads, while others nodded, as though they had understood. All but a few of them went on their way. The ones who stayed were merely curious to see whether the man was a lunatic or a fool. Not one of them answered him.

"I say," called Gabriel, "can anyone tell me the way to where it is warm? I am tired and the sun is setting. How shall I sleep in the cold?"

Just then, a small child was passing by with his mother, giving serious attention to the icecream cone in his hand. But when he saw and heard the man, he forgot his treat and stopped in his tracks, pulling violently on his mother's hand, so that she, too, came to a most abrupt and unusual stop.

"Hey, Mister! Don't you have a home?"

Gabriel looked at him, a little puzzled. "A home," he asked.

"Yeah, you know. Ain't you got a bed, or what?"

"A bed?"

But the mother pulled harder than the boy had pulled her -- harder than he could have pulled her -- and soon they were out of sight, lost in a flood of shoppers on their way home for the night.

"A home... a bed," Gabriel repeated to himself. This place was certainly stranger than he'd first supposed. New words had to be learned. New things.

"Good people," he called out once more, "It is cold and I have nowhere to sleep! Could one of you show me where I may find a home, and a bed?"

A girl, about thirteen, approached him now.

"You look funny," she said.

"Pardon me?"

"You look like a child, but you're not. What's wrong with you?"

But her father, who had only just now discovered her absence, was not pleased to find her talking to this strange man. He shot Gabriel a look the angel had never seen before. It was the oddest look. It tore through him and hurt, as though he had fallen a second time. Surely, the man had not intended to look at him that way.

"Hello," said Gabriel, with the tenderest smile.

"Weirdo!" replied the man, and he quickly disappeared back into the crowd with his daughter at the end of his arm.

"Another new word," thought Gabriel, but he was growing cold and had no time to be interested in learning new words or new things. He really had to find some place warm for the night.

"Good people," he called, "I have no place warm to rest. Can one of you help me, please?

Just then, a fragile gentleman, much bent-over with years, approached the statue where Gabriel was standing. His face was pink and wore a large smile.

"Young man," he called back, "Come down from there."

Gabriel climbed down and approached him, at once.

"What on earth do you think you are doing," asked the old man.

"I -- I need a warm place for the night," said the angel.

"Oh, very well. Come with me, and I'll take you to the shelter. You don't look like much of a threat, after all."

And he led him down the cobble streets, through the cold and the snow, which had gathered force, it seemed, rather suddenly. The dark, too, had gathered much quicker than the angel was used to.

As they walked, Gabriel realized how hungry he was, so he studied the trees along the sidewalk. Not one of them had any fruit! Not so much as an apple, and even apples grew in cold places. Now, along with the hunger, Gabriel felt something entirely unknown to him. A sense of concern. Something he could not yet put into words. Something decidedly bad. But he didn't yet know what bad was.

"I'm hungry," he said to the kind, old man.

"I'll bet you are," came the reply. "Unfortuneately for you, they must have stopped serving soup some hours ago. But, then, perhaps you are in luck, after all," and he produced a napkin from his pocket, which he proceeded to unfold. A small bun, round as a fruit. There were so many words the man had spoken of which he was unsure, but Gabriel understood that this must be food the man was offering, and he took the bun with a tremendous display of gratitude.

"Alright, alright," said the old man. "Geez, it's only a stale dinner roll. You'd think it was the king's pheasant, the way you're carrying on."

Gabriel bit carefully into the bread. No, it was not like fruit at all, though the inside was softer than the outer part. It was hard to chew, had no juice, and hardly any flavor. But the man seemed to agree that it was food, so Gabriel did his best to get it into his belly, and to be grateful still.

Before long, they came to the shelter. The old man showed him in, wished him well, and then he, too, disappeared back into the stream of shoppers outside. Gabriel approached the desk, where a large, round man sat looking at him.

"Need a room, Bud?"

"A place warm to sleep," said Gabriel.

"All the way to the end. You'll see it," said the large, round man, as he made a jabbing motion with his arm.

Gabriel walked past many rows of cots, each divided from the others by dark blankets, which hung from the ceiling like thin walls. In each "room", someone lay snorring, or tossing in their sleep. One man sat up, shuffling a deck of cards. Finally, Gabriel came to the last cot, which was empty, and he lay down at once. It was nothing like a cloud.