The door to Apartment Three Eighty-Five opened. Peter walked in and turned on the lights. He was exhausted; he had a long, hard at the campus. He settled into the recliner on the left wall. Above it, a digital clock read 6:06. Peter had his eyes closed, but then he sensed something and opened them. A light was coming from down the hall. Peter got up and walked toward the light. It was coming from his room. He pushed open the door with his hand. Standing in the dark room was a man. He had long blond hair, a white robe, and very large white wings. Peter knew about angels, he had learned about them in Sunday school, but he never thought he’d meet one like this.
“Peter Vanguard, age nineteen, born January 6th, 1992.” The winged-man said.
“What….what can I do for you?” Peter asked.
“You have been called into service. Peter Vanguard, you have been chosen.” The angel said.
Peter’s eyes widened.
“What do I have to do?” He asked. The angel reached into his robe and pulled out what looked like some sort of document.
“The chosen always write sign their name onto the sacred piece.”
He gave Peter the blank document. A small part of him thought something was off here, but the rest of him accepted it wholeheartedly. He reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a pen. He wrote his full signature onto the document. The angel broke into a devilish grin.
“Heh heh heh. HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!”
He started to morph into a red color. His wings turned black and broken, with his robe disappearing. Gone was the innocent face, replaced by sinister yellow eyes, a sharp nose, and an evil grin. This was no angel; it was a demon….and Peter had realized it too late. His soul, the very essence of his life, was cast out. His body, now an empty shell, fell to the ground. The only thing that was heard was the demon’s maniacal laughter.