Chapter 1

Banished!

That was a terrible word. Angela knew she was at fault but she wasn't the only one to transgress with the human species. It was all so silly that her simple explanation sounded false even to her own ears.

She knew she was not truly a heavenly creature.

Angela was offspring of a Throne entity and human innocent developed in the mist of limbo existence. Human in appearance, she was almost immediately the subject of ridicule by the winged light holders around her. She was not capable of casting the light or temporal shifting. Poor Angela had empathy for the stranded human flotsam and jetsam wandering the halls of limbo waiting for some form of divine intervention to send them on their way.

She had to admit it was a big step up from purgatory and the anguish of bewildered hordes of humans denied heavenly entrance. Angela had full access to heaven and the joys of being literally in the hand of the Creator. She was extremely fair of face and possessed of superior female attributes.

As a quasi-Throne, she usually was granted more respect than even Archangels with their many confused missions and conflicting agendas. If she had been a full blooded Throne, she would have powers never imagined by the majority of the more common angels.

Her banishment was temporary, but Angela felt properly chastised nevertheless.

Angela's issue was her inability to drive her desires for fleshly pleasures out of her mind. The need for human contact made her sleepless at night and kept her in a state of agitation most of her waking hours. When she was caught in bed with a young human girl who had been waiting a full 18 years for a sign of deliverance, her sentence was pronounced in a matter of hours.

10 years of Earth time to learn the error of her ways.

Here she was, only she wasn't quite sure where here actually was. Angela was sitting on the side of the dusty road on a milk crate wearing only a simple linen covering and no shoes. After all, there was no need for shoes in heaven or purgatory or limbo for that matter. Everybody just sort of floated. It sounded silly now just like her honestly spoken explanation for sharing a bed with Rebecca, but that was the way of it.

The sign on the other side of the highway said "Truth or Consequences, N.M." Angela knew exactly what Truth meant and she knew what Consequences meant, but she had absolutely no idea at all what N.M. signified.

Her Throne creator had made her in his image in a pique of jealousy caused by the overbearing Seraphim constantly infringing into his realm.

He knew she was not mortal. She could never be that human. Angela was so human in appearance that most of the Angels assumed that she was mortal just like all the other lower creations. The Angelic choirs tended to be a bit upper-class minded when it came to such considerations. The only exceptions were the Guardian Angels. They were a separate class entirely with their own agenda.

Angela's cross-bred humanity made her susceptible to those base instincts that insured the continuation of the human race. The one that seemed to bother her the most was the one that made her want to cleave her flesh with the male gender humans. She did enjoy the contact with the females of the species, but only because she enjoyed their sounds of pleasure and their soft submissiveness.

Here she was early in the morning. She had been sitting on the crate for almost an hour now and wanted to get to a shelter place because the rising Sun would surely redden her skin and suck the moisture from her slender body. Angela knew she could not move on her feet because the hot pavement would burn the bottom of her feet and the gravel would puncture her delicate skin.

Hopefully, a kind human would transport her to a location where she could secure sustenance and replenishment for her fluid losses. A pair of thongs wouldn't hurt either. She needed thongs for her feet, not for her hidden pleasure entrances.

A rather large, yellow conveyance approached her. It was making a terrible racket and appeared to be on its last legs. The yellow thing shuddered to a halt just past her sitting place. Angela ran up to the door on the side and when it opened, she saw a number of little human boys and girls all sitting in their seats. They looked at her with some astonishment because this was definitely not a normal thing for them.

The rotund driver was female, fifty, and quite fat.

"Hop onboard, honey, I got to keep my schedule. You got to stay in the first seat and don't talk to the children. Else, I will get in trouble with the dispatcher for sure. We can't have you sitting out there in the desert sun with no water, so I would judge it to be an emergency."

Angela was happy to sit inside the bus. She smiled brightly and all the children were calm and went back to their conversations with their friends. She was just another "grown-up" and of no interest to them in their world of worry-free childhood.

The drivers name was Consuela.

Angela rolled that name on her tongue. It sounded musical to her.

"You're not from around here, are you, honey?"

She quickly devised an appropriate story asking her creator for forgiveness for her lack of truthfulness in advance just to be on the safe side. Sin was such a dangerous threat on the path to salvation.

"My boyfriend kicked me out of the car because I did not want to do what he wanted me to do."

This was delivered in an almost whisper so little ears in the back could not hear.

The bus driver was fully satisfied and did not pursue her interrogation any further.

It was about 7 miles to the edge of town and the small schoolhouse. After the children had all left for their classes, Consuela asked Angela if she wanted to go to the "IHOP" for some "Pancakes".

She had no idea what an "IHOP" was, but the word pancakes was familiar from a past conversation with some of the stranded humans. They sometimes lamented the lack of pancakes and a good cup of "coffee" in their plane of existence. When she asked Consuela what an "IHOP" was, the heavyset lady laughed,

"Honey, if you don't know what an IHOP is, you are in for a treat. It stands for "International House of Pancakes". Why you will think you were sent to heaven."

Consuela parked the bus on the street right in front of the restaurant. It was obviously too difficult to try and maneuver the large vehicle in the small parking lot on the side.

"Just a sec, honey, let me check my lost and found. Yup, just as I thought, here is a nice pair of flip flops for you. They may be a little small but your feet will sure appreciate them."

Angela put them on and they fit her feet perfectly. She leaned down and hugged Consuela. The bus driver was so round, she could barely get her arms around her.