Irish: An Angel's Journey

by David Pollitt

The Last Dance

  It was around five in the evening when Sam picked up Irish. They weren’t in the car a second before Irish started her "green idea" again. He listened carefully, and then placed a call to his on-duty auxiliary.

  "Joe, this is Sam. Can you do me a favor? No, not take my place with Irish, not likely. I want you to run by Pendwight’s place and question his handyman. No, it's just a hunch. Check out his belongings, will you? Let me know if he doesn’t cooperate. Dangerous?"

  He saw Irish nodding, "Yes."

  "I’m afraid to tell you that he’s not. Take Ernie with you for backup. Like I said, it’s just a hunch."

  "Thanks," said Irish.

  "Green again. I can’t believe I’m doing this," he replied laughing.

  "Sam, you know how intuitive 'us' women’s are, don’t you?" she smiled, speaking in a deep Southern drawl and patted his hand. Her smile unraveled him. Irish noticed the intoxication symptoms and pulled her hand away from him so they could talk without it interfering.

  "Crazy is more like it. My dad always told me not to trust anyone who thought they were sane. Irish, why do you make me feel so good, other than you are the most beautiful date I’ve ever been with?"

  "Well, I’m just here to please," she smiled warmly still pulling away from him slightly, not wanting to overwhelm him.

  "You wear those cross earrings. Are they for looks, or do they mean something to you?" He didn’t let her answer but went into a rambling mode. "I figure they do. I’m Baptist myself. I guess you’re wondering what a Baptist is doing being sheriff among all these Anglican cold fish? Where I go to church would probably embarrass these high-church folks."

  "You mean, Trinity Baptist in South Pittsburg, once a year?" she replied.

  "Irish, how did you know that?" He didn’t wait but continued. "Yeah, I spend most my time by myself. My wife, my girl, died of cancer five years ago. I haven’t been close to anyone since. Gosh, I miss her. She was the light of my life. I should have married her. Too late, now, too sad. That was yesterday, and there’s nothing I can do about it. I’ve just been spending my time alone ever since. I still miss my little…" Irish interrupted.

  "Linda, right?"

  He only looked at her dreamily and rambled off again, "Right, I should have known that you'd know. I got saved at Trinity two months before she died. I couldn’t imagine why she didn’t want to follow suit. It broke my heart. I wanted her to give her life to the Lord, but she never did."

  "How do you know that?" asked Irish simply. "Weren’t you there when she died? Weren’t you holding her hand when she passed? What was it she said to you before it happened? Don’t you remember?" Irish was pushing all his buttons now, but for a reason.

  "I, I, just heard her say, 'I surrender,' and she surrendered to death," he answered sadly.

  "Well, that’s interesting. That’s not what I heard." Irish stated, almost getting angry at his naivety. "If you trust me, then trust this, she surrendered to the Lord, not to death."

  "She died right after that. How can you be so sure that she was saved? How could you know something like that? Do you talk to the dead or something?" asked Sam pitifully.

  "No, I talk to the living. She lives, and you’ve robbed her of the one gift that she was giving you and her before she died—her salvation. You’ve stolen that great memory from yourself. You’ve cheated yourself of a great blessing. You only saw with your mind and flesh, not with your spiritual heart."

  "Irish, you're talking way too confident about something that you don’t have a clue. I think we’d better quit this talk. I think we’d better get to move on." Sam was depressing himself and getting ready to put his car in drive.

  "I don’t think so. I have a better idea. I’m going to tell you exactly what Linda is doing right now, whether you believe me or not. She is sitting beside a sparkling, clear crystal river under a large tree of life wondering when you’re going to realize that she was saved that day. She’s found a patch of pansies, her favorite flower. She's wondering if you'll remember her favorite breakfast, grits and Jimmy Dean sausage; and if you'll remember her favorite clothes, the farmer coveralls and the way you always liked her hair put up on her head in a bun. It made you think of her as your little girl, especially the way it showed off her neckline. She hopes you still have Sniffles, her Jack Russell. If I’m right about all that, then is it possible that I’m right about the crystal river; and that means, I’m right about her salvation as well."

  "Who are you, Irish?" Sam asked in awe.

  "Sean says I’m an angel who likes to dance, go figure. I believe I’m whomever you want me to be if it makes you see the truth. I’m the right person in your life at the right time. You need to pick up the pieces of your solitary existence and finish this walk with God exactly how He wants you to. This means moving on with the good memories, not this terrible pathetic one that drags you down. You need to start living and stop slipping back into your own pity party."

  "Who are you, Irish?" Sam asked again, feeling the onslaught of her words but knowing it was all true.

  "I’m your date, Sam, your date. So, let’s go dancing," replied Irish in a lighter voice as she tried to pick him up from his depression.

  The thoughts of Linda being in heaven brought a new light to Sam’s heart. He felt the darkness lifting off. He felt the burden of the past rolling away, giving his heart an injection of joy that he hadn’t felt in a long time. Irish was giving him the best medicine he could ever ask for.

  "What are you, Irish?" he asked this time.

  "Now, that’s a different twist. I’m the best friend you’ve ever had. That’s what I am. I’ve told you the truth, and you know it."

  "Yes, you have. I really believe you have. I don’t know how you know all this stuff, but you do. I don’t really care how, but I actually believe you. For Linda’s sake, let’s do some dancing tonight. Let’s call it a celebration, a victory dance over the truth!"

  The dance was well on its when they got there with every kind of music. Irish liked the fiddling and the quick-stepping dancing with its roots in her adopted Celtic tradition. As they got on the dance floor, they were evidently quite a team, which made Sam impressed with himself. The others on the dance floor crowded around them with everyone doing their own special moves and outlandish high stepping. After the third dance, Sam noticed a difference in Irish’s dancing. He felt that she was light as a feather. She moved more easily to his lead than ever before. He looked down several times and swore her feet were inches off the floor. He shook his head thinking she must be moving too fast and kept dancing.

      

  Changing Faces

  Joe and Ernie finally got to the professor’s house. As they walked up onto the porch, a young lady coming out of the house ran into them. She was pretty with dark green eyes and long black hair flowing down her back. Neither of them had ever seen her before.

  Ernie couldn’t resist, "Hey, where did you come from? You the professor’s niece or something?"

  She answered, "Or something," and walked away, completely ignoring them.

  The professor finally came to the door, "What brings you guys around here? Looking for an axe murderer or something?"

  "Sam asked us to come by and question your handyman. He asked us to search his belongings, hopefully on a voluntary basis."

  "You’re kidding," responded the professor. "Well, you just missed him. You must have passed him walking out the door. But you can look through his stuff if you want. It’s on the back porch where he’s been staying."

  "Was your handyman a handygirl?" asked Joe.

  "Why would you think that?" the professor asked, thinking about how goofy they seemed. Couldn’t make it in other jobs so took up law enforcement.

  Joe and Ernie looked at each other, then shrugged, and went directly to the back porch. Ernie picked up a bedroll and shook it. A pouch with black obsidian arrows fell out onto the floor. They all three looked at it, s
tunned. The professor fell back onto a wicker chair from the impact. He had been harboring a murderer.

  Sint walked down the street towards the Jacobs. He remembered what Apollyon said about hurting those whom humans love the most. The angels around the Jacob’s house felt uneasiness about the young lady but didn’t know why. Sint knocked on the front door and waited, then Karen came to the door.

  "Yes, what can I do for you?" she asked.

  Sint immediately poured the liquid on her head and watched it run down her face and said, "Sickness unto death."

  Karen passed out, falling with a great thud. Dish saw the girl change into a man with snakes on his face and watched as he disappeared. The angels never made it to the porch in time. They surrounded Karen and sent out warnings to Irish. She was with Sam walking outside to cool off when she got their message. It was at the same time he got his call from Joe and Ernie. Irish grabbed her stomach from the emotional pain. She couldn’t believe Sint got by her guards. Sam put his hand on Irish’s arm to steady her.

  "You were right, Irish! The handyman was the murderer. The arrows and the bedroll were together at the professor’s house."

  Irish said in a whisper, "He touched Karen. He touched her with death. We’ve got to get back to the Jacobs, now."

  Before they could leave, Sam saw Sint walking towards them. "Who or what in the heck is that?"

  Sint’s eyes were blazing, and he carried his sword in one hand, bearing his teeth grotesquely as he approached them. Sint delightfully guessed that Irish already heard about Karen.

  Irish called for Aaron; but before Aaron appeared, Sam already fired a full clip into Sint’s deadly approach. Irish and Sam moved back towards the dance, and then Irish realized how dangerous it was to have him around other humans. She stepped in front of Sam and blocked Sint’s attack. Sint reached Irish and pulled his sword back to plunge it through her when Aaron appeared behind him, grabbed him across his neck and arm, and threw him away from her.

  Sam shouted, "What’s going on? What in the heck is going on?"

  Irish sent a mind thank you to Aaron, and she forcefully pushed Sam farther from harm’s way. Sint hissed and spit at Aaron. Aaron let him loose on purpose. With swords in hand, they squared off standing fifty feet from each other. Their wings weren't exposed, yet. They raced towards each other at a blazing speed like two great locomotives with a full head of steam. As they ran, their wings extended out behind them; and when they collided, the ground shook so much that the dance stopped and people rushed out to see their great angel lockup.

  It wasn’t a lockup for long. Their charge took to the air, and they flew, still holding onto each other, thousands of feet above the school. Aaron carried his famous sword in his left hand and broke free, then took a fist, hitting Sint so hard that he plunged down at an incredible speed. When he hit the ground, a large cloud of dust and dirt spewed up over twenty feet.

  Aaron plummeted after him; and as Aaron reached him, he brought his sword down on Sint, but Sint blocked his fierce swing by holding his own sword crossways. Sint shuddered from the impact having never been hit with such a force before. He felt his sword quiver in his hand, and it rang loudly in a vibrating tone that meant only one thing; it was breaking. Aaron repeated it, bringing his sword down again. This time, it cut completely through, shattering the sword, leaving a six-inch cut going down Sint’s upper torso to his thigh. Sint remembered tales of Aaron’s famous cut and shuddered with the thought of what almost happened. He jumped at Aaron, clawing at him and snapping his razor-sharp teeth at any body part that was near, barely missing Aaron’s jugular in a wrestler's roll to the ground. Aaron grabbed Sint’s hands and spread them out in front of him while he dropped his own sword to the ground. He held his arms wide as if Sint was attached to cross shackles, and Sint looked as if he was being drawn and quartered.

  Aaron said simply, "Irish is my New Jerusalem bride. You are about to learn what that means to me!"

  Aaron kicked Sint in his ribs repeatedly while standing only several feet in front of him. Sint’s ribs were crushed to mush and blood trickled from his mouth after each forceful kick. Aaron picked him up in a quick move that brought him landing on his wide knee that snapped Sint backwards over it. Aaron continued the move, having hold of the back of Sint’s neck, and his other hand locked on his nearest leg. They both could hear the bones breaking and organs rupturing. Each time he brought Sint down, he moved him to a new position. His spine was being broken in so many pieces that Aaron figured he’d have to have a spine transplant. Irish wanted to see him cut in two, not mauled. She wasn’t strong enough to lift Aaron’s sword to bring it closer to him, and she noticed that Aaron didn’t want to let go of him, not wanting to give him a chance to escape before he finished, but she had an idea. Dar-Raven’s sword was much lighter.

  With Sam watching in shock with the rest at the dance, Irish turned to Sam, "Help me!"

  Sam looked at her, not knowing what to say, then said, "How?"

  Irish reached into time and space and dragged Dar-Raven’s sword from its portal. She began dragging it towards Aaron, and Sam finally understood. He reached down, and together, they managed to get in front of Aaron, still holding Sint after another terrible knee crash.

  "Cut him in two!" yelled Irish.

  Sam looked at her as if she was crazy. "What?"

  "I said cut him in two, for me!" she commanded. "I'm not allowed to harm. I'm an heir-servant angel. Cut him in two, for Linda and me!"

  Sam understood everything with that statement. Everything about Irish made sense, but he didn’t know if he was strong enough to lift the sword. He gripped the handle tightly and pulled it upward with all his might. Aaron held Sint in his outstretched arms and held him up and in front of Sam as he pulled his own face away from the sword’s path. Sam finally got it in the air above his head and with all his might brought it down, hitting Sint on his muscled stomach. The blade was so sharp that it sliced him easily in pieces, letting Sint parts fall to the ground beside Aaron.

  Aaron shouted in a triumphant bloodcurdling yell, "To God be the glory!"

  No one moved or said a word. Aaron lifted his hands in praise to God for his victory. He said to Sam, "Thanks for the help."

  Aaron watched, as did everyone else, as four dark angels appeared in front of them. They quickly picked up Sint’s body parts and carried them away. After they were gone, Irish rushed to Aaron’s side. She waved her hand over the crowd except for Sam, and they forgot everything that took place since the shaking of the building.

  Aaron was gone, and Irish turned to Sam, "Karen is dying. I’ve got to go."

  "Who was that big angel?" he asked.

  "Him, that’s my love, my Aaron. He’s one of the greatest commanders of our angel legions. Quite a hunk, isn’t he?" Sam only nodded; still not sure of everything he’d seen. He drove her to the Jacobs, and the ambulance was already there. The kids were with a neighbor, and Sean was beside her.

  He turned to Irish and asked, "What happened to her? Will she live? What happened?"

  Irish couldn’t bear to tell him. She was sealed with death. It was a great curse created in hell itself, and she was helpless to do anything. She didn’t answer but got in the ambulance with him. At the hospital, she was on life support. The doctors were unable to explain what happened. They had no diagnosis, nothing except total failure of all her bodily functions as she lay unconscious in isolation.

  "You can do something, can’t you, Irish? I know you can. Save her, please."

  Sean cried into her arms, then saw his kids approaching the waiting room. Irish still never said anything. She entered the room unseen and appeared sitting on Karen’s bed.

  Irish knelt over her and whispered into her coma. "Awake, Karen."

  Karen’s eyes opened, and she groaned in torturous pain. Irish got up on the bed and leaned over her with her wings outstretched and shrouded her completely. She whispered to her as she kissed her eyelids and face, "In the na
me of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost."

  She continued this loving act repeatedly. She saw Dish looking through the window at her. Dish asked her dad to lift her up to look inside, but Sean had no idea Irish was there. Dish saw Irish with her wings extended over her mom and gasped but didn’t say a word.

  Finally, Irish whispered, "It’s time to go home, Karen."

  Angels appeared around her and lifted her soul above her body. She was being transformed as she moved upwards with the escort of white, wingless angels.

  Irish said after her, "I’ll be seeing you soon."

  Irish left the room and appeared down the hall, then walked towards the Jacobs. Karen's heart monitor went to a flat line, and medics rushed in to work with her, but there was no life to be revived. As Dish saw Irish, she ran towards her and jumped up into her arms.

  She whispered, "What did you do with my mommy?"

  "I helped her go home."

  "In Sewanee?" she asked, not crying or emotional.

  "No, to become an angel like me. She'll be waiting for you."

  "Will you stay with me, now?" asked Dish, knowing full well that there had to be a Mom. She couldn’t imagine being without one.

  "Yes," said Irish softly.

  After the Jacobs were home that night, Sean stayed by himself and left Irish to handle the kids. It was late, almost two in the morning. Sean peeked his head into Chad’s room, but he wasn’t there. He walked quietly down the stairs and looked around. There on the couch was Chad, lying in Irish’s arms. Her wings were spread the full length of the couch covering Chad in a quiet embrace as he slept. Irish looked up and saw Sean watching her.

  She put her finger to her lips, "Sssh," while she kissed on Chad’s forehead.

  Before daybreak, Sean heard Irish carrying Chad to his room. As she came from Chad's room, she ran into Sean.

  He announced quietly, "I was right after all, wasn’t I?"

  Irish nodded "yes" with tears running down her face. He held her shoulders and asked her trembling, "My children have asked that you to stay, and you said 'yes.' Now, I’m asking you to stay. They need all the love heaven can give."

  Irish whispered, "Yes, yes, yes," then wrapped him in her wings while he wept.

      

  The Final Piece

  The Cramer family passed through Chattanooga several days later as Thanksgiving approached. As they made it to the top of Monteagle, Judy asked, "Isn’t there a bookstore at the University of the South. Can we stop?"

  Robert grumbled but pulled off the interstate and headed down the road leading to Sewanee. They saw the bookstore and pulled in. Judy felt the presence of God overwhelming her when she saw the beautiful campus and All Saints. They walked slowly through the bookstore, but Robert stayed in the car. They picked up some Sewanee coffee mugs and a Sewanee umbrella. As they were checking out, Judy saw the book, Forgiveness. She touched it and felt drawn towards it in her spirit. Maggie saw her interest and paid for everything, including the book.

  It was Judy’s time to drive this time. Keel was exceptionally quiet, and Judy thought what a blessing it was. Robert angrily picked up the book. He thumbed through it; and as they drove towards Nashville, he became more involved in it.

  Only thirty minutes from Nashville, Judy looked over and saw tears running down his face. Minutes later, he asked with a cracked voice, "Pull over, will you?"

  He got out and went into the woods near the interstate to be alone. He knew he wouldn't receive any forgiveness unless he forgave. He repented of his anger and rage, forgiving everyone and feeling the burden lifting away from him.

  For the first time in months, he heard the voice of God, "Take care of my children, Robert. Take care of my children."

  He knew that he was called to the youth. He was to speak to them in simple words anointed with the Holy Spirit. Loudness didn’t matter. He also felt deep in his spirit that Keel would fulfill a special call one day. He had to teach him Godly ways so he could fulfill that call. Keel was God’s child for the end times.

      

  Staying At Sewanee

  Aaron met Irish outside the Jacob’s house a week after Karen’s death. They embraced unseen to anyone else.

  "You’ve done well, Irish. Keel will fulfill his destiny for the Lord. Apollyon didn’t even see it coming and still hasn’t figured it out."

  "Aaron, are you okay with me staying?" she asked nervously. "God wants me to stay. He wants me to care for these kids as if they were my own. I’m to take up the slack and encourage Sean to finish many more books. He will be a great influence on many people one day. His family needs my help, all the help I can give them."

  Aaron spoke gently to her while holding her, "We both know our Lord’s wishes. We are always obedient to our call. We’ll have our time in New Jerusalem. There is only honor and glory for completing our assigned tasks. The end draws near, and our time grows closer. We will have all eternity together, sweet Irish."

  "Oh, how I love you above all others," said Irish while holding him tightly.

  "And I you," answered Aaron, "and I you."

      

  The End