* * * *
Large crowds consistently attended funerals for the famous, prestigious, wealthy, or well known. These days so many individuals wanted to go, raffles or other sponsored events were held to see who could attend. Everyone assumed there would be more of a chance for a visitation during such a funeral when the events first began more than ten years before. Soon, aggregated information determined there were hundreds of visitations each year all over the world regardless of the socioeconomic status of those who passed away. Irrespective of the religion or belief, reports abounded of strange angelic visitors. Even the funerals of avowed atheists or nonreligious individuals would present manifestations, which led some to believe in the universality of God and his angels. Over the years, there were fewer nonbelievers. Many however, who, despite what they saw, remained nonbelievers, assuming some sort of special effects trick or mass hallucination. Even though special effects couldn’t explain how the angelic visitors knew so much about the deceased only the nonbeliever themselves could know, they still chose not to believe. Religious leaders, churches and spiritual organizations all tried to explain the phenomena. No one could produce any direct physical evidence other than the subliminal echoes of aromas, abstract footprints in places where the carpet held them, and the euphoria of those observing something so magnanimous.
Initial reports classified witnesses as having the same category of delusion as those who allegedly observed aliens and UFOs. Then when some of the skeptics--priests, pastors, rabbis, imams, and memorial officiators during successive funerals--began to perceive the same visions as their peers, their veracity solidified the arrival of heavenly visitors. All of this occurring shortly after the disappearance of millions, the world being unnerved feared the funeral appearances. Over time as the populace acclimated to the visitation, the angelic presences demonstrated benevolence; the visitations became the cement for the religious systems across the world, helping to meld a common belief in a single god for all mankind. The faiths of the world incrementally built a new cooperative relationship by looking for common threads between their beliefs.
Stephen noticed the crowd was moderate sized while again scanning the sanctuary and foyer for his friend and his family. He wasn’t sure if all the attendees knew Jeffrey or were only there hoping to witness a potential paranormal event. Stephen saw attendees’ heads craning and taking deep sniffs of the air, hoping that reports similar to other visits, a deluge of aromas would embrace their noses. And even though Jeffrey’s family had requested for a device-free service, occasionally someone would attempt to snap a clandestine picture or record a video with a phone or digital camera.
Traditional melancholy music whispering from the PA system in the background of the chapel seemed opposite the effervescent sense of anticipation and wonderment. Stephen noticed Jeffrey’s few family members didn’t display an overt sense of mourning or loss. Everyone was confident something was going to happen.
The reverend began the eulogium according to the family’s arranged program, though he seemed distracted by the fragrant air. Stephen thought it odd the clergyman didn't use a bible or any other religious guidance for the ceremony.
“Jeffrey Bradfield was a beloved father and son,” the reverend started, “He was considered by all who knew him to be magnanimous and helping. Jeffrey was dedicated to his family and his job. He served the community and, like his family, was very much a philanthropist. Why Jeffrey was taken away from us? We will never know.” The reverend continued speaking for the next fifteen minutes, and then with nothing more to say, many in the assembly of supposed mourners seemed disappointed. It was during the reverend's benediction before the removal of the casket for the departure for the cemetery, something above caught his attention. Stephen followed his gaze and saw that the ceiling of the chapel glowed with an eerie translucence.
Instantly, in the twinkling of an eye, a personage, clothed in flowing robes appearing to be made of the purest and finest white linen, its visible skin without blemish, mark, or discoloration, stood in the front of the audience within the chapel. There was no slow dramatic descent, no spectacular entrance riding on a rainbow, just an instantaneous arrival of radiant light emanating from the entire presence of the heavenly figure. Stephen thought witnesses from reports in the newspaper must have embellished preceding arrivals.
The aura of silver-white light shimmered and made it impossible to tell whether he, or she, possessed wings. The visitor’s brilliance didn’t overpower the audience’s ability to see. The spectators whispered among themselves about their view of the angel. William remembered his Nikon and reached to snap a picture. He would swear the camera shocked him. Others attempting to use their cameras, or camera on their phones or tablets experienced the same sensation, some even dropping their devices on the floor.
The form stood motionless for several minutes. The pronounced humanity of the muscular structured body became more majestic. Immersed in an ethereal aura, the distinguishable outline of grandiose wings took greater form. Piercing eyes with pupils black as coal scanned the onlookers. Stephen felt as if the angel were looking directly into each attendee’s souls. Time seemed to stop. The outside ambient light coming through the windows of the chapel dimmed. Muffled silence enclosed the chapel. An uneasy quiet settled among the spectators. Stephen couldn’t hear his own heavy breathing as if someone had turned on a noise-cancellation system. The air now still and no longer filled with the scent of flowers, began to the smell as if the stirring of dust and dew were preceding a rainstorm.
It was now that Stephen saw the semblance of a scroll as the angel pulled it from what appeared to be a large pouch attached to a golden rope fashioned as a belt. The spool was unrolled. Expecting to see some form of paper or vellum was a wafer-thin, brass-like foil material. The heavenly creature turned a bit to its left; Stephen could see letters slowly emblazon on the surface of the metallic parchment. According to reports, this had never happened before. The angel would arrive, present the eulogy, and then depart. I don’t like the looks of this, Stephen thought to himself. A queasy uncomfortable feeling began to settle in; he decided to leave. Working his way to the center aisle, people in his row glared at him for the distraction
The angel spoke, its voice melodic and harmonic as if it were singing upon one first hearing. Its voice quickly became stern and jarring once comprehended. “The speaker has given a wonderful extolment on the life of Jeffrey Bradfield. I tell you there is a true life story of Jeffrey Anders Bradfield, a deceitful, narcissistic and abusive life of one not worthy to be written in the boo-”
Members of the audience gasped loudly as the angel continued. Stephen didn’t want to hear any more. The unsettling atmosphere magnified further unnerving him. He finally navigated himself out of his pew and darted down the aisle to depart the chapel. The ushers gave no opposition to his desire to leave. They stood motionless by the entryway with their eyes widened and transfixed on the supernatural event. Nearing the exit, the light behind him brightened enveloping the sanctuary and into the expanse of the foyer. It became hard to see. Stephen felt he couldn’t escape fast enough and whatever was happening to his rear would overtake him. It was as if he were in a bad dream running down a long hallway, never reaching the end.
As Stephen approached the doorway leading outside, he caught a final burst of words from the angel, “...so as those whose names are written here upon this page are to be judg..” The last human related sounds inside Stephen thought he heard were moans and shrieks before all went silent just as he rushed out through the funeral home entrance. A voice echoed in his head, “Remember my name, Abriel.”
Guests on the standby list waiting outside in line realized that something extraordinary was taking place; many waited with excitement for those inside to come out and present a firsthand report. Some urgently attempted to enter the chapel but found the doors locked. Others more astute after seeing Stephen’s panicked face
, and confident that they heard disturbing and haunting sounds from inside, retreated to their vehicles in the parking lot. Stephen stumbled across the concrete sidewalk to a small patch of grass and sat down on the ground. His vision faded. The crowd gathering around, the funeral home, cars in the parking lot, trees, and lampposts all went black. Stephen realized he was now blind.
Those who didn’t scurry away in fear attempted to ask him a barrage of questions, “What happened? Was there an angel? Did he talk? What was it like?”
Through the bombardment of questions, Stephen recognized the voice of one of the interrogators. “Stephen what happened.”
“Alder, is that you? Where are you?”
“What do you mean where am I? I'm right here in front of you,” Alder answered, kneeling down in front of his friend.
“Alder, I can't see.”
Those remaining hearing this and the disturbing sounds from the chapel, gathered their friends and family and scattered to their cars. A couple of men who tried earlier to enter the chapel now found the doors unlocked and rushed into the building.
“What do you mean you can't see?” Alder responded. Maria caught up to her husband, who had run ahead to his friend when he saw him rush out of the building as they were driving up in the parking lot.
Stephen's eyes watered. “I can't see. Where were you?”
“Dude, we were running late. What happened?”
A man in his late forties who had gone in through the unlocked doors came running back out. “They're all dead, everyone inside is dead.”