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  • Writer's pictureBelinda Lane

Story: An Untold Story of the Archangel Michael

April 29, 2022

By: J Anthony Spencer

January 12, 1982

The Hotel Harrington sits on the intersection of 11th and E Streets in Washington, DC. Its actual address is 436 11th St. NW. A 3 min walk from Ford’s Theater and the Earthly FBI Headquarters. We know it as Washington’s Tourist Hotel. It is 11:55pm and in an empty hallway on the 10th floor a blinding brightness appears and disappears, leaving a man of astonishing beauty with wings that almost touch the ceiling of the passage. Draped in a white robe he moves to a door, turns the knob, and enters. It is a Deluxe King Room, and he walks to the window looking out into the chilly night. Looking at the sky a light snow was beginning to fall. Closing the curtains, he stands at the desk looking into the mirror that hung over it. At his neck on a golden chain hangs a golden sword that is brighter than the chain itself. He grabs the chain and there is a brief flash of light. Gone are the wings and white robes. Instead, Michael is garbed in casual clothes of off white. Across the bed are two brown business suits, a set of pajamas and male necessities. He quickly secures the clothes, dons the pajamas and turns in for the night.

January 13, 1982

The morning finds Michael in the Kitchenteria, on the ground level of the hotel with a modest meal. On the television and outside there is snow falling. Long ago Michael wanting to know humanity better. He requested from the One He Served to spend one day a year clothed in flesh without any of his heavenly powers or regiment. Traditionally, he would do this around the time the world celebrated the Birth of Christ. This year he had been on a task that he recently completed. So here he was in the seat of power in the United States. He retrieved a coat and stepped onto 11th street. The weather was now nearing blizzard conditions. The blowing snow stung his face as the cold was bracing. Uncomfortable as he was, he smiled. He spends the morning conversing with people about the weather and the holidays that recently passed. He walked through downtown stores, neither needing anything nor stopping to pay attention to any particular item.

The weather conditions have degraded, and the decision has finally been made that the Federal Government is being shut down for the day. Cars have begun to fill already crowded streets. Michael finds amusement in the seeming order in chaos. Then something hits him. He wants to see the famed Arlington Cemetery, where countless fallen heroes rest. He could visit it any time, but he wants to do it in human form. The likelihood of that happening in this snowstorm is nigh impossible. Or is it? He talks to the cabbie asking directions to the cemetery. The cabbie is first taken aback that someone would want to venture out in this storm. But then he softens telling Michael he has to head into Virginia as he is going home and wouldn’t mind the company. Maybe he thought this man though appearing youthful, may be a veteran or have a connection to someone there. As they make their way toward the bridges that lead into the neighboring state.

Ninety minutes later and the cab is still on the bridge into Virginia. The two men have talked very little but find comfort in the warmth and company of each other. Though he is now a mere man, some things never change. Such as his acute hearing. It is a loud engine of some type but is sounds like it is struggling. A shadow passes over the front window. There is a loud noise, screams and the bridge shudders violently as Michael is tossed into the right door. Pain shoots up his arm. But the screams of terror now take center stage in his awareness. His driver companion appears in shock and his arms are rigid, white knuckles clench the steering wheel. He asks the cabbie if he is ok, but gets no response. Confident his new friend is fine, noting no injuries, he exits from the left door into the driving cold. The screams are still rising as he sees a gathering of people peering over the edge of the bridge. Michael made his way to the edge and peers over. There in the icy waters of the Potomac River was a plane.

Instinctually his hand seeks the golden chain around his neck, but nothing happens. The pact is iron clad and binding. He will be stuck in this form until midnight, some seven hours away. He looks to the heavens expecting aid that never comes. This is not the work of the Fallen Angel. This is because it is. On the bridge and in the water is utter chaos. Trapped in human form there is nothing he can do for the people in the water, so he tends to those on the bridge. Twenty minutes have passed and two helicopters are over the scene attempting to save any passengers or crew who have not perished. Michael has learned a great many things during these forays into humanity. But this time he feels an emotion that up to now he has never experienced. Hopelessness. Tears stream down his face that threaten to freeze. Yet he stands and knowing that he can do nothing, weeps silently. Gathering himself he returns to assist who he can on the bridge until authorities arrive and do what they are trained to do.

He wanders into the Kitchenteria of the Hotel Harrington a few hours later. He is cold, hungry and tired. His meal is more substantial this time. Coffee and Hot Chocolate warms him and a modicum of strength returns. All the time his attention is on the rescue efforts on the television screens located around the eatery. And at one point an image crosses the screen showing him helping someone on the bridge. One worker has also noticed and turns to look at him. Seeing the concentration etched on Michael’s face he decides to leave him in peace. After a while Michael rises and makes his way to his room and sits on the bed. He glances at the TV and makes the decision to leave it off. He drops to his knees and with folded hands and elbows on the bed starts softly praying. After he is done he returns to his seat on the bed and sits for what seems for hours.

He leads the forces of Heaven and is highly favored in the eyes of The Godhead. But he is not omnipotent nor clairvoyant. He had no idea he would be thrust into what will be known as The Crash of Air Florida 90. Michael sits and contemplates his temporary mortality. He respects these creatures and the experiences that compose their lives. He has experienced firsthand the fervent prayers of those that were both victims and Samaritans. And in it all in this form there was nothing he could do but lend what he could using what was available to him. He thinks of the cabbie, never knowing his name and wondering if he made it home. He rises, walks to the window and parts the curtain. Despite the efforts that are going on a few miles from this location, they move through the snowy street carrying on with their lives. Without looking at a clock he feels it rushing towards him like a wave. There is a flash of light and The Archangel Michael stands there in all his glory. On his beautiful face lingers the traces of a tear and then it is gone. Another flash and the room is empty as if it never had an occupant.


In his angelic form he visits the continued rescue efforts, observing the determination of the rescuers. When all is said and done, there will be 74 fatalities, 5 injuries and 5 survivors of the flight. On the ground will be 4 fatalities and 4 injuries. Lessons will be learned and applied and such an event will never happen again. Now he turns his head slightly and transports to Arlington Cemetery, which was his primary destination that led him into these events. He closes his eyes and prays for the over 400,000 souls buried there. He then extends his awareness and finds what he is looking for and then he is there. Unseen, he hovers in a Virginia bedroom of the cabbie. He lies on the bed huddled with his wife and three kids. The wife and kids sleep blissfully knowing that he is home and safe. The man also sleeps, though fitfully. But he too, even in sleep rests better knowing he is home and surrounded by family. In his dreams is the man in the cab that helped him and others before walking the length of the bridge back into Washington, DC. On Michael’s face a slight smile briefly appears on his face, but then fades as he does.

Epilogue Two

Michael will continue his yearly forays into the world of man. He will wonder if on these trips he is being directed in a preordained manner to support and learn. But in those short times he will learn more and more about those they charge him to protect. His love and respect for them will grow as well as his confusion. Unknown to him, 19 years in the future he will once again find himself centered into an event of evil and good. After the events of 1982 he has vowed never to feel Hopeless again. He will be tested.

2 Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for by so doing some people have shown hospitality to angels without knowing it. Hebrews 13:2 New International Version

2 Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.

Hebrews 13:2 King James Version

Thank you for joining me for Friday at Sundown. Remember… Just Breathe!

Over the next months, I will be presenting mostly stories only, written by

J Anthony Spencer and myself. Again I appreciate your support (Likes, Share and Comments).

You can also find me on Facebook and Google under fridayatsundown4 and on LinkedIn

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