The Archivist

The Archivist glided through the Library of Heaven. The bookshelves rose in solemn silence, stretching beyond sight. Each book glowed softly—each one, a soul that had once lived. Each life, held in suspension, was now cataloged for all eternity. The Archivist moved toward a book still forming. She reached her hand towards the book, and it opened by itself. Her hand hovered over the pages, and the book filled with ink, not ink as humans know it, but pure experience. The cries of birth. The aches of first loss. The laughter shared between loved ones. Every heartbeat translated into divine script. She cherished the experiences as the pages of the book filled in.

Name: Amelio Garcia

Lived: 78 Years, 4 Months, 21 Days

Final Thought: “It was worth it.”

The Archivist closed the book and gently placed it on the shelf among the others, adding another light to the vast mosaic. She had done this task for what seemed like an eternity. It had always brought her peace, but also a strong desire. Her mind raced through Amelio’s life, cherishing every moment endured. She looked across the endless expanse of shelves, each book a life of joy, terror, and pain—each one complete.

She read them all, but she never truly lived one.

She placed her hand across her chest, as humans do. She knew every possible emotion, but she had never felt one. She watched every tear fall, but she never cried her own. She knew, floating there, that she would feel heartache in another place, but not her own, not now. Looking at her hands, the Archivist knew what she had to do. She could feel these emotions and live her own life. She could experience the joys, the fear, and the pain. She had to make a sacrifice, one that made her an angel. She fluttered her wings, keeping in one spot, and looked at the books one final time.

Stretching before her was a long marble walkway, with ivory pillars rising on each side of an exquisite stone paved walkway. At the end of the walkway was a pedestal holding a sacred object that shimmered in the light. The Archivist glided toward it, knowing what she was about to do and the ramifications of this decision. She reached the pedestal and saw shears glowing with magnificent light. A plaque on the pedestal’s column read: ‘Angels Who Have Made the Ultimate Sacrifice.’ Soon her name would be added as well.

She unfolded her wings and let them expand to full span. She admired them in the chamber one last time. The Archivist picked up the shears, with trembling hands and hesitation, she reached and made the first cut at the base of her wing on the right, she was shocked to see blood from the dissected wing. As the wing fell, its shimmer dimmed, and it turned to ash before it even hit the ground. As the blade neared her second wing, her hand trembled. For the first time, she knew fear—not the concept, but the cold grip of it in her bones. She hesitated… then finished the cut. This time, as the wing dropped to the ground, she dropped with it. She felt an uneasy ache inside her. The blood was dripping out of the stems that once held her wings. Lying on the ground, she curled up into the fetal position and wept. Before realizing this was her first true emotion, the heavens around her fractured, and she was gone.

The plaque bearing the names of prior angels glowed, and a name was added at the end of the list. It simply said “Archivist Sarah”

Feeling out of it, the Archivist slowly woke up and found herself in a puddle of water. Her celestial robes were now filthy rags, soaked and sagging around her. The wetness was a feeling now, a stinging bite against her skin that she had never felt before. She looked around. Towering trash bins loomed beside her, surrounded by broken crates and the sour smell of waste. The buildings looked as if they stretched to the heavens. She could see a steady stream of people walking back and forth at the end of the alley. Standing up, she noticed her balance was off. She reached behind her and searched for her wings, but they were missing. “It actually worked,” she said in amazement.

She started to make her way to the sidewalk to join the other people when a car horn blasted behind her. “Get out of the road, you bum,” the man yelled, sticking his head out the window. Frightened, she ran towards the people for safety. Upon reaching them, she found herself in a frenzy as she was passed by people going to and from, sometimes even bumping into her. “Move it, lady,” a man blurted out as he passed the Archivist.

Making her way back to the edge of the alley, she leaned against the wall and slid down, sitting on the damp concrete. She put her head in her hands and started to cry. Sound came from all directions, the cars shrieking, metal clanking, voices overlapping, it was all too much. Suddenly, she felt a pulling and tugging on her. She was being lifted. In a blink, she vanished from the alley where she found refuge. She lifted her head out of her hands and saw the most beautiful garden around her. Fountains rose up from the ground with water jetting out of them. She knew instantly she was back in heaven and could feel God’s presence.

“Is this what you want, my beautiful Archivist? To be with my creations on Earth,” God said. “I thought I did, but it was so overwhelming and frightening.” God laughed and said, “My young Archivist, there have been many before you longing for the chance to be with them. None have been as brave as you. Then go, my brave Archivist. Let your spirit endure where flesh may fail.”

She could sense that God’s presence was gone. As quickly as he was gone, a flash of light radiated around her, and her world went blank.

The Archivist struggled to open her eyes, feeling a newness to them. The lights in the room were blinding at first before finally settling into a warm radiance. She saw a woman holding her, and a man sitting beside them. She felt the warmth and love radiating around the room. The man and woman were staring at her with pure enjoyment.

“Welcome to the world, baby Sarah,” the woman said. “I’m your daddy, and she’s your mommy,” the man said. The Archivist kicked her little hands and feet as a smile formed upon her face. This was her new family and her new home; she knew that her spirit would endure.