The End Begins
The angel carefully unlocked the top of the enormous globe-shaped case, and as he often did, marveled at the loveliness of its exterior. As the five-foot replica of planet earth floated weightless before his immense ten-foot stature, blue waves swooshed against its surface and clouds drifted about. He diligently removed the top, already knowing which leaves would float readily to greet him.
Instantly, the first leaf, a glistening, silvery offspring from a red maple, fluttered out to be received by Metatron, one of the two supreme angels of death responsible for a soul’s transition to its otherworldly life. He would eventually take each sprout that floated from the hovering orb and direct it to the soul it represented.
His first visitor fluttered to its proper position and waited for further instruction. Behind it, thousands upon thousands of others followed.
Each leaf arose from the spherical dome and danced, joyfully, to where it was to wait. Unlike their siblings on earth, these offspring from hickory, dogwood, aspen, and so many other saplings were skillfully composed of a thin, incredibly fine layer of various metals; silver, gold, platinum, palladium, and tarnished copper.
Over 146 thousand leaves exited the globe and took their rightful places, waiting to reach the souls whose time on earth had come to an end.
Metatron’s spirit sank each time a copper leaf floated from the ball, as he knew it signified a soul that would not be joining him in the heavens, but instead, would be suffering in eternal darkness.
. . . . .
One by one, he took a leaf, kissed it, and prayed for the soul it embodied. Pointing the leaf in the direction to which it must fly, he would gently blow, bidding it farewell on this single journey for which it was created.
He was almost halfway through the mass of leaves when he came to the delicate golden bud of Megan Francis Vaughn Calloway. It was a lovely little beauty with soft, rounded lobes; the shape of a leaf that might be found on a California oak, but much more refined. He conversed with it briefly, transferring great love and blessed travels to the precious symbol of a physical end. Holding it tenderly in his enormous palm, he could hear the music that danced within it; the melodies so loved by its incarnate soul.
Metatron paused momentarily, reflecting on how great the Father’s love for his children was to honor each so personally, as they passed from their physical reality, to an eternal destiny. The shoot bent toward him, as if bowing in appreciation for his well-wishes and then turned, ready to drift to where Megan was waiting.
With the leaf delicately perched on the tip of his finger, Metatron stooped, lowering his massive arm to just below the ethereal layer of heaven, and carefully pointed his hand in the proper direction. Gently blowing onto the tiny frond, he straightened his body, as he watched it flutter down through the galaxies, into space; down, down, down.
Breaking through the earth’s atmosphere, the leaf continued its descent, flickering through the sky, breaking through the clouds, and finally seeing its destination. Continuing downward, the golden shoot headed for the windblown trees just outside of Megan Calloway’s bedroom window and joined with the multitude of earthly flora which had turned brown in the cool, autumn weather.
Transforming from its heavenly metallic finish to the familial brown of its kin, it merged with a small twig as it detached from its host and began to swirl through the blustery air toward Megan’s house, finally approaching her window and sweeping against it symphonically.
The sequence of events had begun.