Angels have harps, not flaming swords. Angels sing, not moan. They wear white robes, and have golden circlets over their head and if that thing is an angel it's definitely not here to escort you to heaven. That creature must be a minion of hell ready to take you to your eternal punishment for consuming alcohol, premarital sex, and bad mouthing customers behind their backs. You don't wnat to go so you run out of there at top speed.

You have no idea where you are going as you part the mists before you. The creature continues to moan your name, barely audible in the wind rushing past your ears. You keep running not knowing if it's minutes, hours, or days that are passing you by*. You come upon a glowing form on the ground far before you. As you draw closer you realize that's you, or you body, lying lifelessly before you. Stopping short you glance over your shoulder and find the demonic angel has caught up and stands right behind you. It holds up one finger, pointing towards the swirling vortex of darkness overhead. It holds the blue flamed sword ready. Where do you spend eternity?

It's only seconds that feel like eternity. You should exercise more.

Where it's been the last few decades, my body.

The vortex, I'd rather not be around while I rot.