by Diane Marie Taylor
Dedication:
This book is dedicated to the angels
and other people of the future
The stories in this book are fiction but the some of the stories about angels are based on my own factual experiences with angels. I have seen angels stand on a street corner and beg. I have seen angels disappear. Once, an angel told me that the person in the wheelchair who was begging in front of a supermarket in Hamtramck was a fake after he had rolled up to me with his hand out. I have met angels in numerous situations but often did not realize it until later. Angels speak to me often.
Once I asked an angel, “Why? What makes me so special that angels talk to me? Why can I see angels when many other people can’t?”
Their answer: “You will tell our story in words and paint.”
I haven’t told everything yet, but I will keep trying. I want to live up to their belief in me, make it solid and valid. I have also been assured that I will not falter. If I write something that doesn’t fit their reality, the angels will warn me so I can change it. So not only are angels real and currently working in our world, you can feel assured that most of the events in these fiction stories could be true. Who knows? If a few of these angel stories have not happened yet, they might still.
4. Angel Down
7. Searching for the Mad Hatter
11. Lost Summer
12. Angel at Work
Harsh Landing
Boom!
Intense pain filled the inside my head, brazen iron bells clanging above a churchyard, iron clashing and striking my brain. When I opened my eyes, I saw an aura of blurred color swirling like a whirlwind around me. I squeezed my eyes closed as tight as I could as if to hold it all in check. When I opened them again the pain was still there but the brash bell sound was almost tolerable and my vision cleared somewhat. Now I had time to notice that I was lying on green grass next to a rusted chain link fence. A huge dog, with brown and white spots, barked and growled as it strained its chain taunt to get at me, and maybe pull its doghouse over too. I sat up and put my hands over my ears to try and stop the baying bells and prayed the dog’s chain would hold long enough for me to get up and away.
Climbing to my feet, slightly swaying, sweaty and dizzy, I leaned against the fence fabric and slowly followed it to a gate and out of the yard. When I got past the yard, the dog stopped barking and the pounding of iron bells reverted to a low hum. Thankful to leave the barks behind, but still feeling weak, I walked unsteadily on the sidewalk, stepped over weeds growing from between the cracks and managed to find a brown porch step in which to sit. There I rested my head in the cup of my hands. I wanted to lie down, or better yet, go home.
The word home shattered any idea of comfort because, Where is home? I couldn’t remember.
It was then that a young child of about three with mahogany skin, tight curly hair, a button nose and wearing dark shorts and a once white tank top skipped along the sidewalk and stopped to the front of where I sat. He pushed his head close to mine, bent it this way and that and then gave me a puzzled look.
“You look funny,” he said.
I tried to smile at the boy through the humming in my head and tried to blink this annoyance away. I hoped he’d be gone by the time I opened my eyes again. He wasn’t.
“What’s your name?” He asked.
Name? With a jolt of intense fear, I suddenly realized I didn’t know my name. I looked down at the cloths I was wearing, scuffed up white tennis shoes, worn faded jeans and a loose tee shirt with Pepsi written across the chest and Coke written down the front as if the designer couldn’t make up his or her mind. As I looked at my light, bare arms, I thought they began to fade away, but that was crazy. I closed my eyes and opened them again. When I did, I felt slightly better, and more solid. The hum became lower and eerily livable.
I put my hands down away from my head, looked directly at the young boy, and asked, “Why do you say I look funny?”
“Cause you wiggle away.”
Just then, a young girl also wearing shorts and a white tank top, cleaner with a strawberry embossed on the front came down the sidewalk and called to the boy. The facial resemblance was obvious but the girl’s face was much lighter, coffee cream with rosy cheeks on a diamond shaped face beneath long, dark curly hair, The freckles running across her nose were dark pink.
“Jeremy, get back here. You know you are supposed to stay in front of the house. And you are never, never supposed to talk to strangers.”
The girl came up to Jeremy, stomped her foot down in anger, then pulled on his arm.
“But Sissy, the lady has a boo boo. Needs a band aid.”
I reached my hand up to the side of my head where it hurt and felt that it was cut and bleeding. While I felt my head, Sissy bent down, squinted her eyes at me, took a long look, and then with her head bent and a puzzled frown on her face, stared directly into my eyes, as if searching for something. Sissy reached her small hand out and touched my bloodied head, then wiped her hand on her shorts.
“Are you hurt real bad?” she asked.
“I don’t know. My head hurts.”
“Did you fall down from the sky?” she asked.
Now I was puzzled. “Why do you ask that?”
“Cause you keep flickering in and out like a Christmas angel or something.”
At her words, I reached out my hand and took a closer look. She was right. I flickered in and out as if I’d stuck my finger in a light socket. As I continued to stare at myself, my body steadied and the flickering stopped. Whatever the answer was I doubted that I was a beautiful Christmas angel. My clothes were not only human normal but dirty, like no angel I could imagine. I sighed and could only hope that the answer of who I was would come back to me when the ache and humming in my head cleared.
Now Sissy frowned, “You don’t have wings and you have red blood on your forehead. Guess you’re no angel, but Jeremy’s right. You do need a Band Aid.”
With these words, Sissy, pulled on my arm as if to lift me up, so I helped her by lifting myself off the steps, stood swaying for a moment, but then steadied.
“Come on.” She added, “I’ll fix you up.”
She started to walk away, but looked back when I didn’t move. “Well, Come on.”
So I did. I followed her on a short walk down the sidewalk to the next porch. The porch was lopsided but the gray, bare wood steps seemed sturdy and the railing solid enough for me to lean on. We entered through a half screen door that banged closed after us. The living room had a painted, wooden floor with a piece of worn linoleum in the center. One wall of the gray painted room had an old sofa patterned in faded flowers with crumpled blankets scattered on it. A brown recliner leaned against another wall and a small television on a roll table faced the couch.
I followed Sissy through the living room and under an arch into a once yellow kitchen where she pulled out a wooden chair from the table.
“Sit.” she ordered.
I sat down gladly.
Sissy, took another chair, pushed it to the sink and climbed up to a high cupboard, opened it and brought down a box. “We keep the medicine up high so Jeremy doesn’t get into it.”
Jeremy, who had followed us and climbed onto the chair across from me said, “I don’t get into stuff no more. I am big now.”
“Yes. I know you are.” Sissy said. Nevertheless, she didn’t bring the whole box down but pulled out a roll of bandage, tape, bottle of peroxide, and a box of Band-Aids.
“Not sure what we need yet.” She looked at Jeremy, “If you’re so grown up, go into the bathroom and get me a washrag.”
Jeremy jumped off the chair and went to get the washrag.
“He’s just little but he listens good.”
I felt amazed at this young girl who seemed to have everything in hand. When Jeremy came back with the washrag, she put it under the running faucet, then came over to me, and wiped off my forehead a number of times between going back to the sink to rinse it out. I got the impression that she knew what she was doing. Probably Jeremy had fallen a few times and cut his head and she took care of him.
I suddenly realized what was missing, or rather who.
“Where is your mother?” I asked.
Sissy, shrugged. “Got called to work this morning to take care of Mrs. Watson. Usually works days so should be home soon, but maybe not.” As she worked, she continued to wipe the blood off me.
When she was done, she stepped back and said in a no-nonsense voice, “You stopped flickering in and out. Does that mean that you stopped being an angel?”
“I don’t know.” I admitted. “I feel lost.”
“You can stay here till you feel better. Mom won’t care. She’s supposed to bring home some cereal and milk, but I don’t know.” There was that shrug again. “She might have stopped off for a drink or two.”
I frowned at this, but didn’t say anything. I pushed back at the humming in my head and tried to focus.
I asked Sissy, “Shouldn’t you be in school?”
She frowned and looked at me sideways, “Ain’t no school. Its summer. Besides, I couldn’t leave Jeremy to take care of himself, now could I?”
“No. You certainly couldn’t,” I agreed
“You hungry? Sissy asked me.
“I am hungry.” Jeremy said loudly.
Sissy began moving around the kitchen opening cupboards, then got out a can of pork and beans, opened it with a hand can opener, then put it in a pot on the stove. I let her do her thing because she seemed so good at it. Before long, we each had a plate of hot beans and bread without butter, “Cause mom didn’t bring any home yet.”
The daylight began to dim while we ate. All of us went into the living room and sat on the sofa. Sissy turned on the television. I sat on the couch with Jeremy bundled up in the blanket next to me on one side and Sissy sat on my other side. As we watched the Simpsons and some other family sitcoms, I sat thinking about myself and this family. My head was clearing a little and I felt less shaky, almost calm. So far, no mother had showed up with groceries even though it was dark outside and the streetlights had turned on. When Jeremy nodded off to sleep. Sissy turned off the TV and told me I could sleep on the couch and then picked up Jeremy and carried him to bed. She didn’t come back out so I figured she had went to bed herself, although I suspected that I had taken her usual sleep place on the couch.
Not knowing what else to do, I decided I’d try to sleep and maybe when I woke up in the morning my mind would be functioning correctly. That bell still vibrated inside my head occasionally but maybe a good night of sleep was all I needed. During the night, I thought I heard a door open and close but was too warn out to wake up enough to check it out. When I awoke early the next morning, I saw through the arch into the kitchen a thin white woman with long, stringy, brown hair sitting at the kitchen table with her head laid down on her arm and an empty wine bottle next to her on the table. She raised her head for a moment when I sat up but quickly lay it back down again. The mother, I assumed, because she had the same pink freckles as Sissy.
For the moment, my concern was how I felt this morning after hours of sleep. Was my memory coming back? The ringing in my head was gone but I still felt confused. I thought it dimly possible that a lightning bolt had done something strange to my body. Regardless, I decided I had no choice but to take on the role of angel for this family. I got up, folded the blanket, went into the kitchen, pulled a chair up and sat next to the mom. Sissy and Jeremy were still asleep so I figured that we wouldn’t be disturbed for a while. We sat next to each other in silence for a long while.
Finally, I reached out, put my hand on her shoulder, and said, inanely, “It’ll be ok.”
She lifted her head from the table and turned to me with a frown. I saw that her eyes had huge dark circles beneath them and her face was gaunt with blotchy, skin. She wore a frown that seemed cemented in place.
When she spoke, her voice was raspy, “How can you say that? Nothing is ok. Nothing will ever be ok.”
Her despair was evident. She was swimming in such deep sorrow I imagined she’d been drowning beneath its waves for many years. In this, I was wrong. I soon learned the tragedy that caused of her sorrow happened mere months ago.
“Tell me about it.” I said in a soft compelling voice, a voice of persuasion that sounded good even to my ears.
She burst out in tears and through large, gasping sobs told me about her husband’s recent death in an automobile accident. How they had just moved into the city and she didn’t know anyone. How her parents had disowned her years ago when she married Ralph, a black man, and how hard she needed to struggle to keep her family together.
“I keep looking for a job but…” She hung her head, “I am so tired.”
I thought that with her shallow looks, and constant frown I wouldn’t hire her either. I wasn’t sure what I could do for her so I just listened to her talk and cry throughout that first day. Every once in a while she would heat water on the stove and pour us a cup of tea. She’d brought home milk and cereal and Sissy made breakfast for herself and Jamey to eat in front of the television. We had peanut butter and jell sandwiches for lunch, for dinner, Ann got herself together enough to pull out hot dogs from the freezer. Sissy and Jeremy watched television all day while we talked.
Ann said that her husband didn’t have any family that she knew of so she was all alone in a big city. She told me that her parents lived only two hours away but had never even seen their own grandchildren. This brought a fresh burst of tears. She spoke of the money problems too. She only worked a few hours a week for Mrs. Watson. The family did get food stamps and she’d signed up for help with rent but was still waiting to hear.
“How can I keep paying the rent? What if my car breaks down? What if, what if, what if” On it went to late evening between bouts of tears.
I hugged her and cried with her at times. My listening to her seemed to serve as a catharsis because as the day wore on she seemed to pay more attention to the children. I was glad to be of some kind of help, but just listening wasn’t enough and I knew it. I had to do more, but what?
The next morning Ann got a call saying Mrs. Watson had gotten sick and would Ann be available to work for a few days and through the night. Good news because she needed the extra money, but...She turned to me, “Angel, do you mind keeping an eye on the kids. I’ll be gone over night.”
“Love to.”
At Sissy’s instance, everyone had agreed to call me Angel because I still couldn’t remember my name. Ann and I were about the same size and she told me I could wear her clothes. I said that we’d take some cloths to the laundry mat while she was working and we’d get the bedding washed too if she had enough money for the machines. She did, so after she left for work the kids and I gathered up the dirty cloths and put them into plastic bags.
Just before we left the house, two, sudden loud booms startled me and brought the headache back full force. They were so loud we all jumped in fear. It sounded like a gun had gone off very close by. Turned out, it had been a gun, a rifle. Sissy explained that crabby old Mr. Adams shot off his gun to chase the birds away from his grape vines.
“Can he do that in a city?” I asked.
“Guess so. Mom said she was going to complain but didn’t get around to it yet. Probably wouldn’t do any good anyway. You know how it is.”
Well, I wasn’t sure I did. That sudden burst of sound had really scared me and Jeremy too. When I was sure no one was going to shoot at us, I picked up the bags of dirty cloths, half dragged, and half walked them the few blocks to the laundromat on Mack. Sissy and Jeremy skipped beside me and sometimes helped me carry a bag of laundry. We finished washing and drying cloths by the time the church bells rang at noon. I wondered where the church was as we walked home. We didn’t find the church but found a gold mine of books, a huge box of books someone had set out to the street for the trash man to pick up. Children’s picture books and even a few classics like Heidi and Moby Dick. We put what we could carry inside the bag with the folded cloths, brought the clean clothes back to the house and went back for more books. We wound up with quite a stack of books we set on the living room floor next to the couch.
“Ha.” I said, “No TV tonight. Tonight we read.”
I hadn’t seen any books in their home, but we made up for the lack this day. After reading to Jeremy, I listened to Sissy read and learned that she was an excellent reader. She only stumbled over a few words in Heidi.
“Young lady,” I said to her teasing, “Is there anything you can’t do well?”
My words made her smile.
When I added, “I am so proud of you,” her face beamed.
“Me too,” Jeremy said.
“Yes. You too.”
After they scooted off to bed, I sat and thought. The kids were fine. It was Ann who needed the help. With her sad attitude and forever drawn, frowning face who would hire her? Something needed to change. She was making less than minimum wage taking care of Mrs. Watson, which was probably all the family could afford to pay her. Sometimes it worked that way. Surly, Ann could do better? Her problem was larger than my crying shoulder could fix. It needed help from a higher source and I began to pray and make plans.
The next day, I took the kids with me to scout for the church. We’d heard the bells so one must be nearby. We found a small storefront church two blocks away with white siding and a cross in the window. I wasn’t sure what kind of service they had but it looked small enough to be friendly, which is exactly what Ann needed, a friendly support group.
So that Sunday, I convinced the family to come to church with me.
“You’ve got to go,” I said, jokingly “Cause I am an angel.”
Ann smiled at my words but Sissy gave me a knowing look as she grinned and nodded her head. I put my hands out as if to say, “Well, who knows?” Who was I to say differently? I still didn’t have my memory back, though occasionally I thought I saw glimmers of the real me.
That first Sunday, the family huddled by itself in the last pew. People might have thought they didn’t want to be bothered. I read the small paper handed out to see what kind of help was available and prayed to Jesus, “Please step in to save this family.”
At the end of the service, people came up to Ann and asked the family to join in their coffee and donuts. I pushed her into agreeing. It turns out that they had a group that helped people take their high school completion test. At my urging, Ann went to a meeting about it during the week and agreed to sign up and begin a refresher class in September.
She explained that she only needed to brush up on her math because the church also helped people fill out grants for community college and she decided to give it a try. Ann seemed to cheer up from the attention and care of the people at church. I thought it was just what she needed, plus a few sermons to get her walking towards God. In addition, with a new goal and someone to listen, she seemed able to set her sorrow aside.
I taught the kids to say prayers at night and let them listen when I thanked Jesus for helping their mother. Both Sissy and Jeremy liked to pray, but Sissy especially liked praying for her mother. Young and brave as she was, she knew her mother needed extra help with her life.
I stayed with the family through the hot, weeks of August. I helped Ann paint the living room a bright pink, Sissy’s choice, and continued to listen when she needed a shoulder to cry on. During the weeks I stayed with the family, my memory had come flooding back so I knew it was getting time to leave. I had watched Ann brighten up with the promise of school and felt she didn’t need me any longer. Sissy would begin school in a few weeks, and even Jeremy was signed up for pre-school. The family was on a good, strong path.
After lunch, I said to Ann. “Would you do me a favor. Please write to your parents and send them photos of the children.”
Sissy, ever listening, jumped up and before we knew it, she brought back a piece of paper and pencil and sat at the kitchen table ready to write.
“I didn’t know I had a grandma and grandpa. I am going to write them and tell them about me and Jeremy and lots of other things.” She got busy writing right then. So Ann, a worry frown on her face, nevertheless got busy searching for photos of the kids to put in the letter. Then all of us walked to the post office to mail Sissy’s letter.
On the way back, as we walked up the sidewalk towards the porch, we heard Mr. Adams shoot his gun off again. Boom! The sound was so loud and close it startled all of us. Jeremy started to cry.
“I’ve been meaning to call the police about that.” Ann said.
“I have an idea about how to fix the problem,” I told her.
When we got into the house, I told the family I needed to leave the next day. Jeremy cried and hugged me. Sissy begged me not to go. She pouted and refused to look at me after I told her I had to leave. Then I bent down and whispered “What if someone else needs me?”
She didn’t know how to argue against that.
The next morning, I dressed in the same cloths I had worn when I met the family, that same Pepsi and Coke shirt with the faded jeans and tennis shoes. Sissy kept frowning at me. I could tell she was unhappy but I hoped to lighten the mood with the project I had in mind.
Ann got called in to work for a few hours. While she was gone, I told the kids we were going to build a scarecrow for Mr. Adams. Jeremy was delighted with the project and after a few pouts, Sissy got into the swing of things. Sissy gathered old pie tins while I tied two big pieces of tree twigs together. Jeremy found pieces of ribbon and string that we tied to the pie plates and we hung other stuff on its arms too. Sissy drew a face on one of the pie plates. When we were done, it was a sight to behold.
It was then that Ann came home from work, looking tired until she saw what we had built on the kitchen table. One look at it and she began to laugh. She sat on a chair and roared with laughter. I’d never seen Ann laugh before and told her how beautiful it made her look. She blushed until her freckles bloomed, but I could see that she was pleased.
“We are going to take it to Mr. Adam. Come with us.”
She agreed, and all four of us walked the two houses down the street and knocked on Mr. Adams’ door. He came to the door, his dark old skin, wrinkled which really did make him look grouchy. I could see why the kids called him crabby. He had a scowl on his face and was about to slam the door in ours.
Ann, stood tall and said, “Don’t you dare close the door on my kids. They took the time to make you a gift.”
It was pleasing to see Ann act tough and stand up for her children. I felt she was growing more mature every day.
Then Sissy spoke up, “You’ve got to stop shooting your gun. It scares my baby brother. Makes him cry.”
“I don’t shoot no one.” Mr. Adams said. I just shoot up into the sky.”
“Besides, you might shoot an angel.” Sissy said. She grinned at me as if to say she knew my secret.
Mr. Adams sighed, but took the scarecrow. “I hope it works. Those damn birds are eating all my grapes. I use the grapes to make wine. Bought them special cause they are the best. Thank you.”
Was that a smile on his face when he closed the door?
When we got back to the house, we heard the church bells chime the noon hour. I told the family it was time for me to leave. Jeremy cried as he hugged me. Sissy cried and complained but she hugged me too, and then insisted on walking with me a ways down the sidewalk.
“I promise to come back and visit one day.” I told her. “Watch for me. In the meantime, you take care of your baby brother and mom. Ok?”
She agreed, then looked at me with tears in her eyes. “You going to fly back up to heaven?”
I looked down at her, “Maybe. I don’t know. It’s up to the boss.”
She grinned at this and finally stopped following me but kept watching until I walked around the brick building on the corner. “God works in mysterious ways,” I thought as I remembered how losing my memory had introduced me to this family. A moment later, I made myself invisible and stepped off the earth.
The end.
Drops of icy rain hit Edward Johnson’s face but made no impression on his awareness as he lay in the dark alley, a large shadow among smaller ones, set between the bent corrugated cardboard boxes and flaking brick wall. His left stocking was exposed to the cold rain through a hole in his shoe. A cat sauntered past, drawn by the urine odor, taking more notice of the man then the few stragglers who hurried past after the bars closed.
People hadn’t always ignored Edward. Not too long ago, even strangers admired him and recognized him on sight. He’d led the city for years before he made the fatal error of buying votes and getting caught. As shame overtook him, so did drink and finally the street. Now, no one knew or cared that Mr. Johnson lay dying of lung cancer alone in an alley covered in dirt and strewn with garbage in a city he once took pride in running, though a bit underhandedly.
He’d been a very handsome man, if a little on the pudgy side, but no longer. This night, his skin fell away from his bones and the once immaculate, neat suit hung in wrinkles around his thin body beneath a torn topcoat lined in silk. A person would need to stare a long time at his unshaven face before they might recognize him.
The angel had tried to get him noticed. Beva went first to one person and then another and tried to whisper into their minds to call for an ambulance, but each of them, if they turned their heads towards the alley at all, chose to ignore the dirty, disheveled man lying in shadow. The smell of urine and ripe whiskey coming from the man turned people away as much as their revulsion at his downfallen state.
The angel, unable to make a real phone call herself, sat on the edge of the trash bin near the dying man and, not knowing what else to do, waited for the last cough that would end the man’s life. Edward moaned and rolled over, then sat up shivering in the frigid air. He pulled a square Jim Beam whiskey bottle from his coat pocket, took a long swallow, swayed back and forth, and then sat bleary-eyed thinking his own, sodden thoughts.
The angel had the ability to heal a small sickness but this man’s cancer had taken over his entire body, not long after his prideful actions had taken over his soul. What was an angel to do? So the angel decided to leave him to go check out the distress she was beginning to feel a block away. She could see a red glow over the garage roofs lining the alley, which meant there must be a fire.
Within seconds, the angel was standing in front of the fire that was consuming the tall apartment complex on the corner. She watched the firefighters carry people out, then go back in with the hose. One man was running back and forth in front of the building screaming frantically, “My wife, my babies." Where are my babies?” A firefighter held the father back before he could run into the blazing building. The father could only stand and sob, as he called out his wife and kid’s names Cassie! Curtis! Chris!
Beva stepped into the flames to search but didn’t find any children. Finally, after checking outside, she found them behind an old, rusted car up set on cinder blocks standing amid weeds and other trash strewn behind the apartment. The mother lay on her side next to them, no longer breathing. She had died of smoke inhalation but must have pulled Curtis and Chris to safety before she died. One boy child of about one year old lay by her side. The other one, not much older, sat beside her rocking back and forth, whimpering.
The babies were still alive but both were quieting as they huddled the best they could next to their mother. The problem was that the frigid air was 11 degrees and the snow was beginning to fall down in small, needle-like icicles. The babies were getting covered up in snow that would soon turn to ice. Unless someone took notice soon, they would not live to see another day.
The angel went to a firefighter and whispered about the babies but he was too busy fighting the fire that still raged from the old building to listen. The angel went to another and another. With the air so frigid, no neighbors had come to watch the fire. The people being carried out to the ambulances were too traumatized to listen. Likewise, the father who had sunk deep in despair and was too frantic to hear the soft, whispered words of an angel. His panic was such that he kept running around a circle screaming for his children. The father might need his own ambulance soon.
So far, this night seemed a complete failure, with one person dead and three about to die. The angel had a sudden idea so quickly went back to the dying man who lay in the alley.
In a last attempt to salvage the night, Beva whispered into Edwards’s ear, “Get up. God has a job for you.
Still in a drunken stupor, Edward said, “Wha…t da…want.”
Inspired by Edwards’s reaction to her words, the angel repeated her demand. “Get up. God needs you.”
Edward grabbed hold of the steel trash container and lifted to his feet. He stood swaying with his hands holding his head as if in agony. The cancer had metastasized from his lungs and ran deep throughout his body causing great pain, hence the ever-present whiskey bottle in the jacket pocket. Edward took another long swallow of whiskey.
“What, what…da yha…want? Wh…er…e’s God?”
Edward looked around, then took another swallow. He began to stumble forward down the alley towards the fire. The glow attracting him even in his broken, drunken state.
The angel nudged him on each time he stopped and swayed. “God has a job for you.”
Once Edward stopped and said, “Wait God…gotta take a piss.” and he did, quickly because the urine almost froze as it streamed out. Then on weak legs, Edward continued stumbling towards the fire.
“Coming…God…Coming,” he mumbled.
The angel’s heart lifted with hope, maybe, just maybe.
Edward didn’t seem overly concerned about the bitter cold or the snow that now fell at a steady pace through the dark night. He pulled his topcoat up closer to his neck and just kept trudging forward while taking infrequent sips out of the whiskey bottle, not really caring where he was going. He continued down the alley and across the street to the corner in the direction of the fire, perhaps with the notion of basking in its warmth.
The reason didn’t matter, only the result. The angel watched Edward stagger along the sidewalk, then past the fire hoses and commotion caused by the fire trucks and the red lights. Just at the right time, when Edward was about to stumble past the alley behind the apartment complex, the angel whispered. “Here Edward. Stop here.”
Edward did stop and looked around as if searching. He heard the tiny cry of a child under the snow. He staggered forward towards the sound coming from near the rusting car. He saw the mother lying on her side near the cinder block.
“Gotta get up lady, there’...s a fire.”
When she didn’t respond, Edward bent towards her, stumbled, and then fell on top of the two babies huddled next to her body.
“Cold…cold” Edward said as he lay down on top of the babies and curled up around them. “I’ll save…you. God…said.” he mumbled and passed out.
A few hours later, at first light, a passerby searching for empties came across the mother and the curled up man next to her. He ran to call emergency. When the attendants finally managed to pry the stiff, frozen body of the man up onto the stretcher, they found the two children beneath him, whimpering but still alive.
One of the attendants recognized the dead man as the former big-shot Mayor of the city. The news went out. The next day, the front page of every newspaper in the city carried the story. “Edward Johnson died a hero. He saved two children from freezing.”
The angel smiled as she read the paper because Edward had done more than save two children, he’d also saved his own soul.
The end
Keisha’s eyes got big. “So…what
you gonna do…kill me?”
These words were spoken later in
the day.
Earlier that morning Andrew
walked towards the earth center habitat that was ‘hidden in plain sight,’ and
smiled at his own use of idiom. Their center was squeezed between two tall
buildings in the city, though it encompassed a much larger space. One of the
buildings was in serious disrepair, which added to their cover. To Andrew, who usually hailed from the cloud
habitat above the
On this day, he
deliberately chose skin like chocolate and stayed visible during his walk
through the city towards the center. He wanted to walk because he liked the
feel of the spring breeze in his dark hair and the smell of cut grass that
wafted from the small lawns scattered between buildings on
Here, he’d reached his destination. A building made of old red bricks centered by a half glass door that needed cleaning. A fading sign overhead advertised the names of the three businesses that still occupied the building, two mail order offices, usually empty, and one legal office, which comprised their center and habitat. He opened the outside door of the building, walked into the dingy, brown foyer and past the front desk guarded by a sleeping attendant/handy-man who didn’t even blink as Andrew walked down the hall to the right, then past closed side doors to the last office door at the end with the half faded letters, J. C. Legal painted on the frosted glass pane.
As he opened the wooden door and walked inside, his mind adjusted to the time change differential of the center and he became invisible once again.
Joseph met him right away with a warm greeting.
“I am the only one available at the moment. Rebecca’s spirit is sticking close to the ‘anomaly.’ Everyone else is busy out among the people, for one reason or another.”
Andrew understood he meant that some were outside working in their physical bodies while others, like Rebecca, stayed inside to work during meditation so she could send her spirit outwards.
They both smiled at Joseph’s use of hyperbole.
“You are picking up
the nuances of the American culture quickly.” Andrew told Joseph who was new to
The anomaly he’d mentioned was in reference to a certain young girl of teenage years, who, like most young people at that age, could be silly, impulsive, flighty, or serious. The girl had become a danger to them all because she was something more too. What that something was, Andrew wasn’t sure and was here to find out.
He was highly
qualified to check out the situation because not only had he been here among
humans longer than many of the other angels who, at Jesus request, had traveled
back through time to work with humans, but also because American culture was
his main area of study. A person in prior years might say he was
He followed Joseph to the large wall monitor and showed Andrew a close up of the girl as she sat in a classroom at school. She was beautiful as most young girls were beautiful, youthful smooth skin, coffee cream in color, showing her of mixed African and Hispanic heritage, which also gave her the big dark eyes and long black, curly hair that came down to her shoulders. Her clothing was something else again; white tee-shirt tight enough to show off her budding breast, also short enough to slid up past the belly button, a fad that must surely be against school rules. Her jeans looked patched and a dirty gray color, another teen style? He supposed in a few years she might add a golden ring to her nose, but he hoped not. If only these young people knew how beautiful they were when they looked natural. Well, it didn’t matter. Just a statement of identity, these short whims and fads of childhood will pass. Different styles of the recent past suddenly flashed through his mind; short skirts, long skirts, silk shirts, bell bottoms, wide pants, buffoon hair, curly afros, and now spikes. He smiled at the memories.
He watched Keisha rise up from her desk, grab a huge book, and leave the room with the other children. The monitor changed to a hallway view. The monitors weren’t vitally necessary. They were only used in public places, but they did enhance the angel’s own natural abilities, which lightened their workload. The monitors also made it easier for angels new to earth to learn the modes of dress and share specialized studies with each other.
As Andrew studied Keisha at her locker, he adjusted his vision to include the angel Rebecca whose spirit was invisible to the humans as she stood next to Keisha. Rebecca had followed her throughout this day. Her spirit form took up no space at all and people could and did walk right through her without noticing.
Andrew flashed her a mental greeting. In return, Rebecca sent a bundle of information she had gathered about the young girl. It amounted to very little because the girl was still so very young and innocent. The splash of images, thoughts, needs, habits, wants and other traits specific to Keisha instantly entered Andrew’s awareness as if a huge soap bubble had burst inside his mind. This was a normal means of communication between angels when they had a lot of information to share.
Andrew suddenly knew more than before: Keisha had two close friends, a father who worked cleaning the bus depot and a mother who worked as a waitress. She also had two brothers, both older than herself. She liked to read large books, hated math, and gym, and liked a boy named Johnny who didn’t notice her. Still, none of this info explained how young Miss Keisha had walked into their fake office and stood gaping amid the angels. She should not have been able to open the door.
As part of the investigation, he had followed the same route as she did when he just arrived, minus the bus ride. Everything looked as usual. They had a well-hidden back door leading into and out of the center as well as the front. He already knew the front office door would need to be improved upon; it was too close to their real habitat. They needed to add a front office desk and move the real door to a separate space behind it, just in case. That was only part of the fix. The other fix had to do with Keisha.
Once again, his mind played the image from the monitor of Keisha and the events of yesterday as she stood on the street in front of this same building. She was wearing her usual skimpy attire while waiting for the bus. A swirling rain was falling, the wind sending larger bursts here and there. He saw her standing below the small overhang and leaning her back against the building’s front as she fiddled with something on her book bag. By the time she looked back up the bus had pulled away.
She shrugged and decided to come into the office building to get out of the rain. He watched as she hesitated in the foyer then walked past the sleeping attendant. She opened one door after another as she walked down the hall. A child’s curiosity. For some reason, at the end of the hall, when she got to their center door, she was able to open it, then step inside past the subterfuge of the time distortion.
Once inside, she slowly walked forward, her face glowing with amazement and wonder. He imagined himself in her place as she viewed the sudden whiteness of the center, the floating flowers and butterflies, the bright blue sky overhead. A moment later, her surprise would be total when she saw two angels step out of the wall. The angels were wearing their usual at home attire of soft, shimmering white that could change from clear to oblique at a whim.
For a single, stopped moment, the angels stood looking back at Keisha, just as surprised as she was, although the angels pulled themselves together quickly.
“You shouldn’t be
here.”
As
Putting the girl back on the bus solved the immediate problem, but not the real problem of how she had walked past the time distortion and into their hidden center. Andrew guessed that Keisha was either an angel born again into humanity who matured ahead of her time or she had genes from an angel who had recently mated with a human, a misbehavior, but it did happen once in a while.
Angels were actually of human origin but their mental abilities had evolved through the many years, which gave them seemingly miraculous powers. The how of Keisha’s achievement could possibly be explained. The how doesn’t matter, Andrew mused. What to do about it does. She is a curious child who might try to find them again. They could block her out, once or twice, but not forever.
As if he’d
predicted the future, this is exactly what Keisha did after school this day
too. He’d taken over the watch from Rebecca and now walked invisible and slightly
behind Keisha as she left school with a group of other students, all of them
walking towards the bus stop on
As she stood waiting for the bus, she kept looking back at the building in which their center was hidden. Then, abruptly, with a shrug of her shoulders, she turned and walked into the building, heading straight down the hall to the last door. She was not only curious but brave. Shouldn’t she be frightened by what she’d seen yesterday? But no. She opened the door and plowed right through the barrier. Andrew didn’t try to stop her. He just followed her inside.
Keisha stopped just past the threshold, a smile on her face as she took in the view. The strangeness of the odd-looking room didn’t halt her progress at all. She continued stepping forward.
What a girl. Andrew admired her pluck as he made himself visible and stepped in front of her. She let out a “Yipe” and her eyes got big at the sight of him. He was still wearing the white tee shirt, windbreaker, and jeans he’d worn on his walk through the city. She shrugged as he greeted her, seemingly totally immersed and comfortable with his presence and her surroundings.
He laughed out loud. “What an anomaly you are.”
She looked surprised, but understood immediately. She put her hand out to allow a butterfly to land and looked up at Andrew as she did so.
“Nice place you have here,” she said to him.
“You should not have found us.” Andrew said.
She shrugged as if to say, “So what.”
Andrew watched as she peered deeper into the habitat gawking at the silver walls and floating flowers. She looked up to the sky overhead and said, “It was raining outside yesterday, but not inside here. This is so cool. Sort of ‘out of this world’ cool.”
“What if I were to tell you that part of this center actually is out of this world?”
“Of course, and secret too.” As she spoke, she twirled in a circle with her arms spread out.
She stopped turning and looked straight into Andrew’s eyes, as if to challenge him.
Andrew sighed, but he’d already made his decision.
“This place is a secret. We can’t allow ourselves to be discovered.” Andrew told her.
Her eyes got big, “So, what you gonna do…kill me?” Keisha asked, her body tensed for fight or flight.
Andrew laughed. A typical teenager, things are either black or white, never gray. “You watch too much television,” he said.
She stood as if deep in thought, then added, “Your group, whatever it is, must be the good guys. I mean, you haven’t killed me yet.”
“True, we haven’t killed you yet. What if that were my job?”
Keisha looked intently at him, then frowned. “Are you going to kill me?”
“Well…You are a nuisance and something must be done about you, but, no, we won’t kill you. Come follow me. I’ll take you on a tour of our habitat.”
Keisha’s eyes lit up at his words as she walked with him down the corridor.
She watched in amazement as white walls became invisible or oblique at a whim, and doors materialized any time they stepped through a wall to enter. Andrew took her to one area that had a tall fountain spraying water onto green grass and bushes, another area had tall weeping willow trees next to rocks and a small meandering river. Two angels sitting on a bench near the river nodded at them. In some areas, the walls were smoky white to oblique because special work was done in them, where privacy or protection was a concern. The medical and science lab was one of these. It had solid walls with white tables and racks of test tubes with its walls lined with refrigerators and shelves stacked with chemical containers. No butterflies or flowers roamed in this room.
Keisha asked, “So, you do experiments here? Is that your purpose?”
“No. Science and medicine is a sideline. Our real purpose is to work with the people of earth, to bring peace and happiness where we can.”
“Not very successful, are you?” She paused, then added, as if embarrassed, “I mean, look at all the wars and stuff going on.”
“Look at the childishness of the people we work with,” Andrew countered.
Keisha smirked. “Still, seems like you should be able to do better. You know, with all your power and stuff.” With her words, she reached her arm out in a swirl as if to include the whole surroundings of the white semi-transparent walls and blue sky overhead.
“You are amazing.” Andrew said.
“If you are not going to kill me...then…what are you going to do with me?”
Andrew paused a long moment as if thinking before he answered.
“We have two choices. We could move our center to a different location, with a lot of effort and trouble, I might add. Or we could induct you into our ranks. Teach you to assist in our work. How would that be? I mean, seeing as you think you could do a better job.”
“Oh, yes. Yes.” I want to be a part of it, all of it.”
“Most of our work is dull and unexciting. There is a lot to learn. You would need to follow our rules and keep this place secret, no matter what.”
“I can do that. I promise. Ah, what rules?”
“Many. You will need to go through a long period of training, but there is one rule that is inviolable. It is the main rule handed down by God—self-determination.”
“What does that mean?” Keisha asked, her face drawn into a puzzled frown.
“Free Will. This means that any human, and by the way, we ‘angels’ are also human, has the right to choose their own road, good or bad. Our power is limited by that that law. In other words, we can’t force a person do the right thing. And so, we are stuck teaching a world full of stubborn, messy and troubled people.”
“Yeah. I get it. My friend Stu is already into drugs cause it makes him feel good. Nothing I said made a difference. I begged, but he did it anyway. Stupid.”
“Some people find it hard to make the right decision. Some people are tossed into situations they can’t deal with. Others take longer to mature. There is much for you to learn during your training. At first, you will need to squeeze extra time from your school studies and family. Can you do this?”
“Sure. School is easy and my parents don’t care what I do as long as I get home before dark.” She added, “What do you mean, ‘At first.’ What happens later?”
Andrew smiled at her ability to zero in on the touchy hint he’d given her and decided that his answer would be part of her first lesson, a sample of what was to come.
“To answer your question. As you follow our training, you will learn how to manipulate time, just slightly but enough to serve your needs. This means that you can draw out the time you need for a task, something like stopping the clock to allow you to complete a bit of work.
“Wow! I can’t wait to begin.”
“You have already begun. I look forward to seeing you at this time tomorrow.”
In the blink of an eye, Keisha no longer stood inside the center or even the building. She now found herself standing at the bus stop just as a bus pulled to the curb with its brakes hissing and moaning. Stepping onto the bus, she raised her fist into the air and shouted, “Yes.” As she comforted herself in the seat, her face wore a huge, dreamy smile.
The end
Muriel felt the jolt in her breast as if the bullet were meant for her and had entered her own heart. It pushed her down and bent her over the workstation where she’d been lazily monitoring a shopping district in the city, an activity meant to prevent small incidences from escalating into larger ones, not make her heart explode. Well, it felt as though hers had burst into a million china fragments. A second later, five angels surrounded and entered her mind to share her mental anguish and give emotional support.
“We don’t know how it happened.” The group said. “John is with him.” He was shot in the spine and died in that same instant.”
Tears came easily then and she hugged herself as she cried and let the tears flow. Juli wiped at the tears on her cheek in between hugs.
“We all felt the pain, still feel it.” They said in unison.
Muriel knew they did, but it was worse for her because it was her father who had suddenly ended. Her father had been working as a teacher inside a high school. Now his mind, ever present, was gone from their midst.
After a short while when Muriel seemed to pull herself together, Juli said, “It was truly a shock to each of us. We are so sorry.”
Through her tears, she asked in a shaky voice, “What will happen now? I didn’t know that an angel could be...damaged so badly.”
John came back to the habitat and shook his head in the negative. This made Muriel cry the harder but after a few minutes she lifted her face to him. “Tell me.”
John looked into her eyes as he put her delicate hands into his own larger ones, “It was very quick,” he said to her. He couldn’t help but notice her youthful beauty. She had wavy blond hair and long, dark eyelashes which contrasted vividly with the white background of their fabricated and well-hidden habitat. Her hair curled away from her face and her clothing shimmered silver as she moved to turn her face away from him to hide her sorrow.
He persisted, “It was unexpected, odd. Normally he would have foreseen what was coming and moved out of the path of the bullet, but this happened so fast, he didn’t have enough time.”
“Is he...he’s not gone forever, is he?” Her soft voice shuddered in bewilderment.
“No. We will send his spirit back to Angel World along with the latest mind reading. He will soon be alive but will need to heal back on the home planet.”
“But I won’t be able to see him again?”
“Not for a long while. He will need time to heal and then wait for the next group to come to earth, which may not happen for many earth years. That is if he chooses to come back with them.”
“Oh, he’ll come back. I know it.” Muriel sniffed between words. She was sure he would. He’d explained to her many times the importance of the work he was doing for the people of earth and how much he loved his work.
“He’ll come back,” she repeated.
A short while later, after resting away in her room, Muriel made a decision that she realized might displease the other angels. Still, the more she thought about it, the more determined and sure she was that this step was needed. I must take his place and I won’t let them say differently. I won’t take no for an answer.
When she confronted John with her decision, he didn’t seem all that surprised, yet he was determined to stop her.
“You are too young and inexperienced. We cannot allow you to go down to earth. Most especially after what happened to your father.”
“But you know I can’t go back along with him because we can only transmit mental readings back and forth, and he told me once that he would train me for earth.”
“But he didn’t train you. It takes many long years to train for work on earth. One mistake and the same thing could happen to you. We love you too much to allow that to happen.”
Muriel got a stubborn look on her face. John would have smiled at her naivety mingled with such beauty, but knew better. He only said, “Worse things have happened to a few angels who chose to work on earth. We don’t tell young ones all that happens down there but I’ll tell you. A few angels have been severely damaged, emotionally as well as physically. One angel just recently had his head cut off, completely severed from his body.”
She buried her head in her hands at his words in an attempt to hide her shock. He knew what she was thinking. Each of the angels knew what the others were thinking unless they blocked specific thoughts. Muriel’s thoughts were clear as tiny bells to him as they stood together in the lounge. He hadn’t wanted to cause her more hurt, but needed to dispel this notion of working on earth in place of her father.
She fell down on the couch and pulled a purple pillow to her bosom and hugged it tightly to her chest and lay her head upon it. Her shoulders began to shake with more tears.
John stood back and let her cry. It was the only way. But maybe not. Perhaps he could think of some consolation for her. After all, it was her father who’d been so abruptly taken from them. A shock to anyone but certainly a jarring shock to such a young angel. Most of the angels lived such beautiful lives up here in the habitat that mirrored their home world so pleasantly they were distanced far from the real strife and ugliness of earth. It didn’t take much to wound them. They could view events on earth dispassionately because they were assembled so far away from the real action. Also, angels who stayed in the habitat were assigned simple tasks in areas most likely to be trouble free. Certainly, this young one had been only aware of the good events happening on earth. She’d been allowed to monitor a few shopping malls to watch for people who might need help. Then she was to notify one of the more experienced angels who would then check the situation and arrange for available help. So, not only was she young, in angel years, but also very naive and innocent of the ways of earth.
Still, not every area on earth was dangerous. There were millions of safe places, comfortable, calm, and even peaceful. John decided that he would choose one of these areas to take Muriel for a visit. Perhaps a contemplative nunnery. Would that be enough? With more consideration, he thought not. Better to give her a normal sample of earth where she would be greatly protected from its strife but could also experience daily life. With his mature angel mind, it didn’t take him more than a few minutes to find a good place to take Muriel. He called to her then lifted her chin up to face him.
“I have decided to take you down to earth myself. Perhaps it will console you somewhat for your loss. We will go in disguise and work on an Amish farm. I know of one family who is in great need of help. The spring rains have soaked their fields and they are late with planting. They will hire us to do the work. It will be hard. Do you want to come with me?”
Muriel’s wet eyes lit up with joy. “Oh, yes. I don’t care if the work is hard I want to follow in my father’s footsteps.”
“It will take a few days of training, so let’s begin right away.”
He taught her of the need to be quiet and speak only when spoken to, how to bend over and plant a seed of corn, and how to follow by his example. He explained to her that even though she was young, she was longer lived than the adults she would meet on earth.
“Our closeness to God helps us live extremely long lives. Still, your inexperience will make your actions seem natural to the people we encounter.” He added, “You will go as my daughter and we will only stay a short time.”
He taught her how to create from her mind the disguise of proper dress and looks, straggly hair, a simple shift dress with an apron, and tennis shoes.
To Muriel, the shoes were the hardest part of the disguise because she wasn’t used to wearing shoes, or real fabric clothing, for that matter. In the cloud habitat or earth habitat made to resemble the home world, angels wore shimmering garments that were made more out of light than real cloth.
A few days later, John told Muriel they were ready. He added, “You are too beautiful,” he smiled when he said this, “So keep your face a little blotchy. You don’t want any boys looking at you too hard.” He laughed at this to lighten the moment.
“We will only stay for one week, just long enough to help the farmer get his seeds planted. Remember, follow my lead at all times.”
Then finally, in invisible form, they stepped across the earth and reappeared in the middle of a bushy patch of forest. No one was around as they left the bushy area and then found a dirt trail they could follow to the farm.
The first thing Muriel did was touch the ground and feel the grass on the side of the trail. “It feels just like the grass on the home world,” she said.
John smiled down at her. “Yes, but you have already given yourself away.” He thought the words at her as a reminder of who they were.
“Oh.” she said and stood up looking sheepish. John laughed out loud.
“Lighten up. Remember, I am always around to protect and remind you.”
She followed John up to a small farmhouse and waited while he knocked on the door. When it opened to reveal an older women dressed in simple brown top and skirt with a white apron, he told her that he was looking for work.
“We are passing through and read that there was flooding in this area. I am ready and willing to help do the planting.”
The women looked at him and then at the young girl with him. “I don’t have money to pay for two people. I don’t need kitchen help. I have my Sarah for that.”
“Me and my daughter will work for one wage. My name is John King and this is Muriel. We are Amish from a ways away.”
The women seemed to relax at this. “She looks to be only a few years older than my daughter, Sarah. My name is Anna. Come on, I’ll show you where you can bunk.”
She led them to a small garage behind their home. “It isn’t much. It used to be my Father’s. There is an extra pull down cot on that wall.”
“This will work out just fine.” John said.
The women turned to Muriel and asked if she could work the fields and do other odd jobs.
“Sure can.” Muriel answered. “My dad taught me how.”
“Ok, my daughter will bring dinner to you tonight. Tomorrow you can eat breakfast with us in the kitchen. Work will start at 6:00 in the morning.”
With that, she left, and John and Muriel looked around at the small bunker. It was so small it barely had room for one cot. It did have a tiny table with a bench near the small window laced with a white curtain. A hot plate and a pot for coffee sat on the table but the room held nothing else. Muriel didn’t care. She was excited to be here in this strange place. They heard the baa of a sheep and a horse neigh outside the window. Muriel moved the curtain aside and saw that the window looked out towards the barnyard.
“Can we walk around and see the animals?”
“Don’t see why not.”
So they walked to a pen holding about fifteen sheep and then to a fenced field where a horse was grazing. When they came back towards the barn, chickens plucked away at the ground, cackling while they ate the food that a young girl with dark hair tucked under a white bonnet threw out to them.
“Hi. I am Sara. I’ll bring you some dinner real soon.” She told them and walked with them a while talking about the farm and showing them the barn and other sights. “We only have two cows now. After Joseph left. Oops,” she put her hand to her mouth and a sad look crossed her face when she said the name.
She changed the topic. “We had to sell some of the cows and goats because it was too hard. Mom and dad didn’t have a lot of children to help with the work. Sarah bent towards Muriel and whispered, “Joseph was…is my brother, but don’t say I told you. We don’t say his name any more.”
John smiled and said they understood. He spoke to Muriel in her mind and explained that the brother had been shunned because he ran away a few years ago. Our secret is that he is on his way back with a wife and will arrive soon. We can tell the family this just before we leave.
“Learning of his arrival before he gets here may also help the father
accept the son back. But remember, it is our secret for now.”
Muriel smiled pleased at this news. What fun it would be to give them a surprise.
The next morning, the real work began, hard, back breaking work. She had to keep bending down to put a corn seed in every few inches. The small groove was already there to put the seed in but she had to cover up the seed with dirt then pat the ground. By the time the first day had ended at dusk her back ached, her clothing was damp with sweat, and her hands and nails were covered in black dirt. Her face was smudged with dirt as were her shoes. Still, she would have enjoyed the work if it wasn’t for her aching back. With her angel power she could have chased the pain away but part of the bargain was to be as normal as the people around her. So she endured.
Later, in the bunkhouse, John told her he was proud of her endurance. “You can take some of the pain away. Just ease it off somewhat. That way you will be tired but in less pain. After all, you are not used to laboring in the fields.”
Muriel was grateful for his advice and she needed it the next day because it rained hard for the first four hours and they worked in mud throughout the rain. But, like the women had told them, it was vital that they get the seed planted otherwise they’d never have used money to hire help. So this day, Muriel was covered in dirt that turned to mud and then dried in her nails and hair.
Later, at dusk, after she left the field, Sarah showed her where she could take a quick shower, “But the water don’t stay warm for more than a few minutes cause it’s heated by the sun.” she explained. It was a small corner outside the bunkhouse with a tank and a string you pull to let the water fall down. It wasn’t much but it felt good to Muriel. After they’d both cleaned up and had dinner with the family, both Muriel and John had no problem dropping off to sleep.
The simple routine of work, eat and sleep went on for five days. They got to know the Miller family at little but the talk around the kitchen table was light as if words were too expensive to overuse. Or Muriel thought, because they were all so tired. Even Young Sarah and Mrs. Miller had joined them in the fields the last few days to plant the seed. It was vital that it get planted now. The other families in the area were just as desperate but had more children who could help do the planting.
Still, calm friendliness seemed to flow around the table with the food. “You probably won’t be with us for church meeting come next Sunday. A shame. Preacher Jacob is very nice.” Mrs. Miller told them. She added, “And Sarah enjoys having Muriel to talk with.”
“We must move on in a few days.” John told the family.
“Muriel helped me carry the water this morning and feed the chickens.” Sarah said. When I showed her Sally the mother ewe, Sally came right up to her and put her head in her lap. Isn’t that something?”
“You must be special. Sally gets mighty mean when she is about to have babies.” Mr. Miller agreed.
This talk at lunch around the kitchen table was the most talk Muriel had heard from Mr. and Mrs. Miller since she’d been here. As she worked the field later, she commented mentally to John that these people lived just like we did on the home world, except for the hard work.
“You are too young to know this but earth was the first home world of angels.
These people are our brothers and sisters. We all came from earth once so are
related.” John laughed. “I mean we will come from earth one day, far into the
future.”
“Oh, I guess I knew that. I just forget.”
John expected they would leave the next morning and had said as much to Mr. Miller. He reflected on how good this visit had been for Muriel and how interesting and uneventful; although, this was soon to change, drastically.
The next mid-morning, Muriel and Sarah were carrying buckets of food to Moby, the horse when suddenly they heard a loud screeching that tore up the calmness of day. The horse screamed and neighed then screamed again. The air filled with a string of nerve jingling screams. The commotion was horrible.
Muriel and Sara both saw what happened right away. A wild boar had run under the fence of the horse enclosure. Panicked, the horse had jumped up and kicked at the pig. The boar raked its tusks across the horse’s chest and front legs. The horse went down screaming, and kept on screaming. So did the boar as it ran for the woods.
Sarah and Muriel had been carrying buckets into the enclosure when it happened so they were close enough to get sprinkled with blood from the horse. All the adults were still out in the fields finishing up the small amount of planting that was left.
At the sound of the squeaks and screams, John sent his mind to Muriel and saw that she had blood on her face and apron. She seemed to be in shock. She stood with her eyes wide open and her hand covering her mouth, but she wasn’t damaged. He sent soothing words into her mind to calm her down as he ran towards both girls inside the fenced enclosure and reviewed the events in his mind.
Mr. Miller also came running. When he saw that Sarah and Muriel were unharmed, he ran into the house for his gun. Mrs. Miller was right behind him, but ran straight to the girls to check on them.
The horse was still screaming when John got to Muriel. She cried, “Oh, John. The horse. Please fix Moby. Please!”
They heard a gun go off in the distance and John assumed that the farmer had run after the boar and shot it. He accepted that this was necessary, but agreed with Muriel that he needed to heal Moby. The horse was in danger of dying right in front of them unless he did something quick.
As he bent down by the screaming horse, he heard Mr. Miller come back with the rifle. He knew Mr. Miller was contemplating how bad it would be for the family if he had to shoot their only horse.
John used his body to hide the most severe damage from the Millers. It would be better if they didn’t know how badly the horse was wounded. He took the horse’s hoof and leg into his hands and began to heal it. As he did, he said loudly for the benefit of the Millers, “Please God, help this poor animal. I beg of you.”
He wanted these people to know that it was God who would do the healing, not some form of witchery. He hoped the farmer hadn’t seen how badly the horse was hurt. John healed the horse’s leg and chest but left some superficial wounds on its chest. He didn’t want his work to look like a miracle.
He told the family, “I have been known to heal animals.” The horse quieted and merely whimpered now.
The family accepted the healing because it wasn’t unknown that some people had the gift.
When he was done, he told Mr. Miller to keep the horse in the barn for a few days. After that, it should be ok.
Mr. and Mrs. Miller couldn’t thank him enough. John only said he was happy to help. John explained that he and his daughter would leave in the morning. “But first, we need to get cleaned up.” They all nodded and smiled at this because they all had blood on them. Mr. Miller led the wounded and limping horse to the barn. The rest of them put the tools away for the evening. After every one washed up, they had a late supper.
John noticed that Muriel had acted throughout the small trauma with aplomb and later told her how proud he was of her.
“You did really well today.” He could feel her swell with pride. Yes, this short trip to earth had done wonders for Muriel and John was glad of his decision.
In the morning, Muriel was feeling good about going back to the habitat. The drama of yesterday had given her an interesting adventure to share with the other angels.
As they were about to leave, John reminded Muriel about the secret.
“Do you want to tell them?”
“I think you can do it better. I’ll just enjoy watching the happiness on Sara’s face.”
As they said good-by to the Millers John said, “A while back we met a young man named Miller traveling this way. Could he be a
relation?”
At the look on Mr. Millers face, John hurriedly added, “The young man was Amish and had a wife and young baby with him.”
At this, Mrs. Miller’s face light up with hope. Sara smiled. “I’ll bet it’s Joseph. He’s coming back.”
Mr. Miller looked
skeptical but didn’t say anything against the notion and Mrs. Miller had tears
in her eyes as she watched John and Muriel walk down the path towards the
woods. Just before John and Muriel stepped off the earth to go back to the
cloud, Muriel told John, “I love it here on earth and I intend to begin
training to work here as soon as we get back.”
“You’ll make a great earth angel.” John said as they disappeared.
The end
Lanke was in a quandary. Yes or no, should he punch Jose. As an angel, Lanke could see a short ways into a person’s potential future and he had seen Jose’s heart give out while he worked on the roof. He would slide down and fall 40 feet to the ground never to rise again. It wasn’t that Lanke could or should save everyone’s life, but Jose had been his latest challenge. Until just recently, Jose had said that if God did exist, then he was an angry and hateful God. He blamed God for his parent’s deaths when he was sixteen. Then he met Ana, the love of his life. Love can change people and this gave Lanke hope that it would change Jose.
Lanke stayed in front of Jose as he walked out of the emergency room. He stretched time out as much as he dared while deciding if he should give him a punch in the gut. Such an act would seem against all the rules of heaven. Yet, something needed to be done, right now. A punch, if done just right, would give Jose a heart attack before he left the hospital where he would get proper care and live to see another day.
Less than an hour ago, Lanke had watched the worry frown on Jose’s face as he sat in the emergency room of the hospital. He knew why Jose was worried. He also knew why he felt so tired, stressed out, but hopeful.
Two months ago, with a gentle prod from heaven; Jose had met the women of his dreams, Ana. She had been sitting on a park bench at Belle Isle watching her four children run and play in the grass in front of one of the park’s restrooms where he was replacing the roof shingles. The oldest boy, Manuel had thrown a soft ball at him on the roof hitting him in the back. Jose caught the ball when it bounced off him then climbed off the roof and down the ladder. He was angry and about to scold the boy, but saw that the mother had beat him to it. She stood waving her hands in front of the boy, her voice angry.
Jose walked over to talk to both of them. Up close, the mother’s beauty startled him to silence as she stood confronting her child, her eyes blazing. He watched her long thick dark hair blow in the spring breeze and her black eyes flash. Even her frown was cute on a slightly round face. He liked her cubby frame too.
Instead of venting his anger, he said. “I was a young boy myself once. Here’s your ball, kid.” He threw the ball back to the young boy.
When the mother let Manuel go, she apologized and explained that it was hard raising a boy without his father around. Jose nodded in agreement. They both sat on the bench and she explained that the children’s father had died of cancer in the hospital six months before. She worked cleaning fancy homes to support the children.
He told her how he’d been left to raise himself after his parents died. He survived by doing odd jobs in the city.
“I’ve always worked hard and now I own a roofing business and I am not yet fifty years old. It’s dirty, sweaty work, but it pays well.”
“You look strong enough to do anything.” Ana said and she touched his dirty hand. “Your hand would make three of my own.”
They both laughed at
that. They seemed to have a lot in common so Jose began to visit Ana and her
children frequently. He’d known since the first moment he saw her that he loved
her, but it took a while before he was sure that she could feel the same way.
He also learned to love the children Manuel, Maria, Marta, and Baby John. They
returned to
One Sunday, while they were sitting on a blanket at the beach, he looked over at Ana and she seemed to glow. She was such a good women. He knew he wanted to be with her for the rest of their lives. The next day he bought an engagement ring to give her and intended to ask her to marry him.
Last night, he gave her the ring. That was when the relationship exploded in his face.
After they had dinner and put the children to bed. They went into the kitchen to finish clearing the table and do the dishes. She had just washed the last pan, wiped her hands on a paper towel, and was still standing at the sink when he got up the nerve to hand her the ring. She had accepted the ring with tears of happiness in her eyes. Unable to speak, she just nodded.
His joy seemed unbounded…until Ana said, “Of course, we must be married in the cathedral by Father John.”
Jose frowned and nonchalantly mentioned that he didn’t believe in God.
“But you must believe in God. God gives us everything.”
“God takes everything away too.” he’d answered. “Better if there is no such thing as a God.”
Jose would never forget the look of horror on Ana’s face when he said those words.
“Your words are like a sin. They hurt my soul. You must go to confession.”
“I have never been inside a church.” Jose shrugged, “I doubt if I could ever spill my guts in some confessional.”
Ana sat down at the kitchen table with a begging look on her face and said, “Then you must learn. Come see Father John with me. You must become a Catholic.”
Jose was on an emotional high so wasn’t thinking clearly when he said, “That’s a hard demand. Not sure if I could do that.”
As soon as he said those words, Ana took the ring off her finger, set it on the table, and pushed it towards him. She stood up, went to the sink, and put her back to him. “Then I cannot marry you.”
Startled at her actions, Jose had begged her see reason. “Please, I love you. That must count for something.”
With her back to him, she began to cry, then the tears turned to sobs that shook her shoulders, but she shook her head and refused to turn around.
“How can you believe in some God who took your husband away and left you with four young kids to raise by yourself? How?”
She turned back to face him, her face swollen with her tears, “Don’t matter. I love God. I can’t share my life with someone who doesn’t have faith, certainly not with a person who refuses to even learn about God.”
Just then, Baby John began to cry from his crib in the bedroom. “I’ll get him,” Jose said.
Ann jumped in and said, “No. You must leave. I love you too, but it can never be.” Her eyes blazed with hurt and anger. “Just go.”
He grabbed the ring, put it back in his pocket, and slammed the door on his way out. He’d left the only women he had ever loved. He loved her so deeply that he would gladly support her and her four children, if she would just allow it. He couldn’t help it if he didn’t love some stupid God. He’d worked hard all his life and hadn’t had time to bother with God. Damn.
Jose couldn’t sleep; he paced through his apartment all night. At times, he sat down and dropped off for a short nap in the chair, but within minutes would get up again and pace back and forth from the living room to the kitchen and back. He didn’t know what to do. Should I just lie? The thought of living a lie was anathema to his principles. He’d always been honest and believed honesty with his helpers and customers was how he’d made his roofing business a success.
At one point, as Jose paced the floor, Lanke, in spirit form, stepped up close to him and whispered into his ear, “If you believe in love, you already believe in God. God is love.”
Jose rubbed at his ear as if puzzled.
Encouraged, Lanke repeated the phrase, “If you believe in love, you already believe in God. God is love.”
Jose breathed out a sigh. He nodded at the truth of the angel’s words, and smiled. As soon as he got off work, he intended to go see Ana and tell her that he’d be willing to talk to that priest, even learn how to become a Catholic if that is what she wanted.
Jose was so filled with happiness at his decision that when he saw the sun rising up above the roof tops during his drive to work in the morning, its beauty hit him like an epiphany. As if love changed everything, even the sky.
Then his helper called in sick. Jose had a deadline to meet. He would need to go up onto the roof and start nailing shingles. The day was supposed to get to 80 degrees by noon. This worried him. His chest already felt tight and he had felt slightly dizzy when he loaded the truck this morning. His regular doctor had told him not long ago that he needed a stress test. “Even though you’re not yet fifty, in your line of hard work, you can’t be too careful.” Jose had shrugged the doctor’s words off, besides work had piled up and he got too busy to go back to the doctor. Now, with the whole world about to open up with promise, he decided he’d better stop and get checked out at hospital before he climbed up on that roof. The doctor had been right. He didn’t want to take a chance. He wanted to go to Ana healthy in mind and body.
The emergency room doctor, tired and over worked himself, had listened to Jose’s chest and could find nothing seriously wrong. He told him to go to his regular doctor for a thorough check-up and dismissed him.
As Jose walked towards the door of the emergency room exit, he had a slight dizzy spell. Hey, maybe it’s just love. He laughed to himself, but still felt a tinge of worry.
As Lanke watched Jose leave, he knew he had to act or Jose would be dead by noon.
“What should I do? Yes or no?” Lanke sent his plea to Jesus.
Jesus understood the whole of the situation in the blink of an eye.
“Yes.” Jesus sent back.
So, Lanke decided to punch Jose in the chest. He had to be careful that his punch wasn’t too hard or too soft. It had to be just right. Lanke swung his invisible arm and fist back then forward giving only the edge of his fist physical power. He judged the most accurate punch in Jose’s sternum as he could manage. He didn’t want to kill the guy, just construct his chest enough to make the emergency staff know that something was amiss before he walked out the door.
The punch worked. Jose fell down between the doors of the emergency room. Lanke breathed a sigh of relief as the nurses ran up to Jose. They began hooking up their machines and wheeled him up to the second floor for an emergency operation. Lanke stayed with Jose throughout the procedure keeping an eye on the results. Then, while Jose slept and recovered in the ICU recovery room, Lanke rested too in one of the chairs by the window. A good morning’s work.
While Lanke sat with Jose in the recovery room, Ann came in and sat in the chair by the bedside. Jose opened his eyes and smiled.
“My sister called me. She is a nurse’s aid here.” Ana said. “I know we can’t be together, but I still worry about you. I prayed for you all night.”
Jose was so happy he would have jumped out of the bed, if he could. “Well, you’re prayers have been answered. A real, honest to God, angel whispered into my ear last night. You know what the angel said to me?
The angel said, “God is love. So if I can love you, I can love God.”
“That sounds a lot like faith to me.” Ana said laughing.
“Yes. I was going to visit you later today. I don’t know God well, but I am willing to learn. Maybe we can visit with that priest together. I love you and the children too much to lose you.”
Ann took Jose’s large, rough hand into her own.
This was Lanke’s cue to leave. Another work of art in progress.
The end.
The gray sky matched today’s job perfectly as did the setting where she stood, a small grocery store covered in black graffiti with a discolored piece of plywood covering a small window broken long ago. Still, Beva was slightly sorry that she had taken on such a chilly and depressing role for the day. Her hands were already numb from the cold autumn wind and she shivered in the light nylon jacket. She wiggled her fingers to warm them inside her pockets.
She couldn’t blame anyone else for her circumstance. While setting up inside the habitat this morning, she had chosen to play the role of a homeless person in Detroit and should have thought to fabricate a warmer coat. Now she was stuck in the ill-chosen garb until evening when she would go back inside and rejoin the other angels. The thought of home brought to mind warmth, food, and a loving camaraderie that would envelop her the instant she returned. She reminded herself that a real homeless person, like the person she’d earlier seen climb out of a makeshift cardboard tent, had no such luxury.
She called out to ask a passerby for change, and laughed to herself because she really could use a handout so she could go and buy a warmer coat. But the man in the heavy black coat didn’t even look her way. He walked swiftly past and into the pawnshop next to the grocery store. She’d considered the pawnshop might be a good place to confront and determine the generosity of people. Yet, her job wasn’t to judge people but only to assess their degree of empathy and concern for each other.
Before the day was done, she would consider her effort worthwhile if she could soften one cold hearted person and encourage them to feel concern for a stranger in need. That was her true purpose, after all, to teach love to each and every person so they would somehow avoid an intolerable future, a future of such horror and injustice it would have been hard to imagine if she hadn’t lived it herself. Jesus said they must keep trying, and so they did. Yet, even now, the memory of those years brought tears to her eyes, or was it just the cold wind blowing into her face?
“Ah,” she was startled out of her reverie by a rosy-cheeked women who had stopped to hand her a dollar. The lady whose name was Sylvia was dressed only slightly warmer than Beva but she wore a plaid wool scarf wrapped around her neck, a detail Beva wished she had thought of this morning when deciding on her outfit for the day.
“Thank you so much.” Beva said.
As they made contact through the dollar, Beva smiled and sent a burst of invisible light into the Sylvia’s soul then slid her mind through the many events Sylvia would experience in the next few hours. Sylvia couldn’t see the light but for a while this day she would be protected by an envelope of golden light from heaven. God’s light would fill her soul and Beva’s love might fill any needed gaps.
Beva saw right away that one simple correction was needed. During Sylvia’s drive home her white car would bump into a delivery van in front, not even making a dent, but the man would get out of his van filled with anger and lash out at her with ugly swear words, which would hurt Sylvia’s feelings and make her day turn bad. Beva slid her angel spirit into Sylvia’s time-line and at just the right moment whispered to Sylvia that she should slow down.
“Right now!” Beva said.
Sylvia did slow down so avoided the fender bender along with the man’s wrath.
All this had taken
less than a second. In present time, with the contact over and this small act
of love completed, Beva watched Sylvia walk away and once again refocused her
attention on her role of begging on the cold
Around mid-day, an older dark Chevy pulled up to the curb. A tall, white man wearing a long coat and polished shoes came around to open the door for a small, oriental woman. She was dark and beautiful, wearing high-heeled shoes and dressed in a nice coat with a red silk scarf wrapped around her neck. They didn’t look rich but instead looked dressed in their Sunday best as if headed for an evening out. After he opened the door for her, she held on to his arm as they walked towards the pawnshop. They would have walked past her, but at the woman’s urging, the man stopped in front of where Beva stood begging and took his wallet out of his coat pocket.
“It is our first month anniversary,” the young women said, filling the air around them with exuberance and joy.
Beva smiled at these words from the happy new bride.
The man wore a dark felt hat that had kept his face in shadow, so it wasn’t until he looked directly at her, that Beva took fright.
Her fear was so
great she almost sent a burst of panic to the other angels, but put a halt to
the call of alarm just in time. Here, in front of her stood the Minister of
Order, Leon W. Robbins, one day to become the most hated man in the nation,
infamous for the icy coldness he used as he assigned different groups to their
Determination and
An instant after recognizing him, she noticed that his face didn’t have the familiar deep wrinkles and worry lines of an angry old man. Also, no one had ever heard of the Minister of Order having a bride. This man wasn’t old. He was young and vital. His eyes twinkled with such merriment they creased at the edges, lifting his whole face into a smile. An unimaginable smile. The Minister of Order never smiled. But this man’s face was smoothed by youth and his attitude seemed tempered by...what?
When she realized what this event entailed, she did panic and called out to Jesus.
“Help. I can’t handle this!”
Her mind could see Jesus walking behind an empty grocery cart in some major grocery store, disheveled and dirty, his shoes broken and untied, unshaved. In other words, a real bum who most people gave wide birth to as they tried to avoid him. The image of Jesus begging usually delighted her but not in her present state of mind.
This time she couldn’t even smile. “Please take over.”
Jesus saw the whole problem at once, but said, “It is up to you.” You are the one who made contact. Do what you can.”
Gulping in a lung full of needed air because she had stopped breathing during the short drama and still felt dizzy with fear, she realized the truth of what Jesus said. It was up to her. The couple would walk into the restaurant less than twenty minutes from now.
She had to do something now, but what? The
contact had been with
Beva noticed that
“Damn, the keys just
seemed to fly out of my hand,”
His actions didn’t use up enough time. Beva stood away from the car and swayed in front of the new bride. She put her hand up to her face in a show of dizziness.
“Oh. Are you sick?”
Beva put her hand on Monique’s arm to hold herself steady.
“What is it you need?” Monique asked.
“I haven’t eaten much,” she answered.
Monique looked up at
the grocery store. “They have hot sandwiches for sale.
“I just gave her a five. Seems like that would be enough.”
“Well, I think she needs our help.” Monique said and began to lead Beva towards the small grocery store. Her month old bridegroom reluctantly followed.
Inside the store,
they asked her what kind of sandwich she’d like. Beva paused trying to use up
time. She pointed to one sandwich only to then shake her head and point to
another. She could feel
“Thank you,” Beva said. “I am so grateful.”
With those words, Beva grabbed hold of Monique’s hand to shake it. She hoped that the jaunt into the store had lasted long enough to protect Monique. She certainly deserved that protection. Hers had been the kindest heart Beva had run into all day. Beva didn’t feel Monique’s life end when they touched.
Beva watched the
bride and groom walk out of the store back to their parked car. At the car,
Shortly after, Beva felt Jesus smile into her mind and her worry and trepidation turned into a burst of pride. Her whole body relaxed at the realization that it must have worked. Jesus would certainly know. She felt so pleased she laughed out loud.
A short time later, while buying a warmer coat at the Salvation Army with the money she’d collected, she heard on the news that the police had picked up a kitchen worker at a Chinese restaurant who had gone berserk with a butcher knife. He’d been swinging it at people as they tried to enter. The announcer added that it was lucky that no one had been injured. Beva smiled as she put the coat on and jauntily walked back out to stand on the street corner. Now a warm and smiling vagrant.
The end
“What rot. Blissful Manor. Heh, full of crap, that’s what I say,” Gloria mumbled in a low voice as she walked down the hall towards the outside doors. Nurses ran this way and that from room to room getting residents bathed and dressed, then some residents needed to be wheeled into the breakfast room. Gloria could do for herself and walk into the breakfast room, so she was ignored. This morning she decided to walk in the opposite direction. The morning confusion gave her a cloak of invisibility as she opened the door and walked out onto the porch and down the path.
Thank goodness she could escape out of there for a bit. She couldn’t stand the way the staff nurses handed out platitudes like candy. As if she liked candy. “Hi, Mrs. Nelson, isn’t it nice today?” or “Gloria, wouldn’t you like to play bingo?” or “You look so lovely in your red sweater.”
Bullshit. The day wasn’t nice, she hated bingo, and she hadn’t looked lovely for the last 30 years. Although, she was glad that she’d put on the red sweater this morning. The outside air was a bit nippy.
“Did you wash up? Did you check the menu?” She’d finally chased her nurse-aid away by saying she’d already eaten some crackers from the drawer. A lie. She just wanted to be left alone. If I need to rot in this dump, at least let me do it on my own terms. Don’t need help to do that. Disgusted and sick of being surrounded by such nice, fake smiles, she decided to go for a long walk to get the stink of sweetness off.
“Damn people. What they got to smile about.” she muttered as she followed the path away from the building. The fenced in grounds were extensive with many paths and flowerbeds scattered around the front and back. She called it a dump, but Blissful Manor was expensive and well kept. Still a prison, though a well-manicured one. Oh, she could leave if someone signed her out, but who would? Not her children, for sure. They were one ones who stuck her in this horrible place.
They wanted to take over and grab the business she and Jake had spent their lives building up from scratch. Jake had worked long hours, night and day, and she had worked by his side. They spent all their free time making a go of it. Started as a small mom and pop store, but they’d built it up into a major chain of famous grocery stores. After Jake died, she had spent all her time and effort to keep it going. Then Julie and John, her own kids decided to steel it out from under her. Took the business away along with her freedom. The more she thought about it, the more she fumed and expelled anger with every breath. How dare they? How dare they?
She had glared angry red at her copy of guardianship papers. Would have torn them up if it had done her any good. Now she felt signed, sealed and delivered, forced into this awful place that had so many smiling faces it made her want to puke. She’d been here ten days already, a stifling long stretch of never ending smiles. The thought of living here, pampered and waited on like an invalid for the rest of her life made her grimace with horror. She’d always kept busy. Every minute of her life. Now they expected her to sit down and die?
“Where did it all go wrong?” she asked herself as she slowly followed the twisting pavement of the path. Maybe I should have taught my kids better manors. Must have raised them wrong, else why would they stick me here in this sugar-coated dungeon? She walked past a bed of roses without seeing them and then another flowerbed that did catch her eye because the flowers were grouped in a precise arraignment of rectangles.
“Not one flower out of place,” she grumbled. “Too set up, too arraigned, too kept.” Just like me.
By necessity, her walk was slow because she needed to lift the walker at every crack and section before she could take the next step. Oh, what a fit she’d thrown when they forced that walker on her, but they won that battle too. She’d finally given in even though she didn’t need it and if she refused to use it or left it in the room, some nurse would go get it and hand it to her. So, now she used it all the time, but it slowed her down. When the pavement was smooth she could roll the walker forward faster and this helped her let off a little steam.
She kept walking away from the building and before she knew it, she was behind it, in a far corner of the grounds where the grass grew tall and uneven. Mower must not reach this far. An old maple tree grew in the corner and a narrow, wooden shack, stood half-fallen against the fence. It must be an old a tool shed, hidden from sight by the huge maple tree. The whole corner seemed untended. A nice surprise. Probably what caught my eye? I like it, wild and untamed, like the way I feel.
Her intention was to stay out and away from Blissful Manor as long as possible, so she decided to walk up to the shed and explore the inside. Lifting her hated walker off the path, she began a slow walk across the high grass. The land began to slant down slightly but this didn’t bother her and she would have done just fine if her foot hadn’t rolled on a fallen tree limb left over from last night’s storm. Her body fell backward onto the ground while her walker went flying out of her grasp in the other direction. For a long number of minutes she laid stunned, flat her back on the damp grass.
She heard her name called and when she opened her eyes, she saw a blur of fluffy white air surrounded by a halo of sunshine. A face, smiling down at her from the sky. Beautiful, effervescent.
The face spoke soft words to her, “Gloria. Take the time to stop and smell the roses.”
An angel? But I
don’t believe in that kind of stuff. As soon as the negative thought wove
through her mind, the beautiful smile was gone, poof, as if she had chased it
away. Still feeling lost and disorientated, she blinked then opened her eyes
once more. This time, all she saw was a deep blue sky with fluffy clouds
floating overhead. Her cheek tickled, so she turned her head in that direction
and her nose brushed up against clover and tiny blue-purple flowers in short
stems. Violets, they must be violets growing amid the grass.
How delicate they looked, as if the slightest movement might crush them. Her eyes filled with green and violet and now she saw a ladybug walk up a light green stem. A whole world is busy before my eyes. Tiny flowers reaching towards the light, green clover nourishing the soil and bugs moving every which way in their busy life. As I need to go about mine.
She put her arms out and managed to sit herself up but knew she couldn’t get back on her feet by herself. Still too shaken to even try she decided to relax and wait for someone to come and find her.
With breakfast on going amid the clang of dishes, no one would hear her call anyway. Though, it was quite still and quiet here, not even a breeze. As she sat looking around, she was startled when a white butterfly landed on her foot then flew off when she moved. She bent her head down slightly to look more closely at the clover and violets pushing up through the dark soil all around her hand. How delicate and small they are, beautiful, struggling to rise up above the grass to reach the sun. Like me and Jake struggled. Thinking back over her life, she realized she’d never taken the time to look at flowers, had always taken them for granted, hardly noticed their beauty.
Now, with nothing
but time, time to look, really look at a flower, she traced each small petal
with her eyes and the tiny yellow dots that lifted out of the center on small
stalks. The yellow must be pollen. As if to answer her question, a bee flew
down and landed on one of the violet flowers, wiggled its butt around a bit,
then flew off again. She could hear a number of birds chirping nearby in the
maple tree near the shed and right there, close by on the grass, was a robin
bobbing its head up and down on the ground in a search for its next meal. Ah,
there. It pulled a small worm out of the ground and flew away with its prize.
Gloria smiled wide, an expression so strange to her face she felt it stretch. Guess it’s been a while since I smiled. How happy and untroubled the bird looked. She had to admit that she’d been so busy running her grocery business that she hadn’t taken the time to smell the roses. Except when the kids were very young, she never taken a vacation and usually walked past nature with blind eyes.
She felt a sudden bout of shame at her long neglect. The pride she’d felt over her past accomplishments took a nosedive as images from her busy past flowed through her mind. The long years of hard work with no thought for play. Always shuffling the kids off on one babysitter or another. Her children would have been worth stopping for, but she hadn’t. Could hardly remember the kid’s school years, except the hugs when she left for work. Oh, they had food and quality cloths, but was that enough? What a fool I’ve been. What a miserable old fool. No wonder my kids put me in this place. They are giving me back what I gave—a cold heart.
She struggled to rise up off the grass onto her knees, but could not rise. She looked for her walker and saw it had rolled down towards the maple tree, and now lay on its side. It would be impossible for her to crawl that far a distance on arthritic knees; nothing to do but wait for one of the nurses to come looking for her.
The sun was climbing higher in the sky. By lunchtime, they’d notice she was missing. Well, for now, she’d just sit and watch the grass grow. She ran her fingers over the blades of grass and liked their sweet scent and softness. She looked up into the tree and watched a sparrow fly from limb to limb seemingly happy and content. A squirrel ran down and then back up the tree carrying something in its mouth. Amazing all the little lives interwoven in nature.
The sunshine felt good on the skin of her legs and face and she felt a contentment settle inside her mind and body, a simple, blissful contentment she hadn’t felt in a very long time, if ever. Maybe I’ll just sit here forever.
From the corner of her eye, she saw a brown rabbit scamper from underneath a broad green leaf. It ran in front of her and turned into a flowerbed on her left, then began chewing on the flower leaves. It looked cute as it chomped. It stopped for a minute and looked straight at her as if checking her out, but then went right back to eating. The rabbit reminded her of The Adventures of Peter Rabbit stories she’d read to her children. Or maybe a story from her own youth, Alice through the Looking Glass. The ink illustrations from the old book were still vivid in her mind. All I need now is the Mad Hatter. An image of the Mad Hatter running to and fro across the lawn rolled across her mind and she began to laugh out loud.
“Oh, how delightful,” she said between bouts of laughter. She laughed so hard she could hardly catch her breath. Oh, my, when was the last time I laughed, actually laughed? The thought made her laugh again until her belly hurt. Well, maybe I hit my head when I fell. Don’t matter. I love it, the grass, the flowers, the angel, all of it. She was beginning to think she could sit here forever, but then heard her name called.
“Gloria, Mrs. Nelson,” she heard the call from a distance away. They must have started looking for me back at the manor. She could call out in answer but now felt hesitant, perhaps because of shame at her many years of stupidly. Soon the voice came closer.
“There she is. She’s over here.” When Gloria heard the voice call closer, she thought it sounded like her daughter’s voice, but surly it couldn’t be, especially not after abandoning her to this place.
“Well, damn.” Guess I’ve been found.” she mumbled, “My fun time is over.”
Then Julie was bending over her, Julie with her straight black hair and long lashes. Even in middle age, her daughter was beautiful. Am I dreaming? What is my daughter doing here?
One of the male attendants brought her walker over and helped her up because she refused the wheel chair the nurse had pushed her way. She was just able to stand, abet, on very shaky legs. She looked closely at her daughter who she now saw had worry lines near her eyes and mouth. She reached out her own wrinkled hand and patted her daughter’s arm that was helping her hold the walker.
“I am sorry for neglecting you all those years. I intend to make it up to you, I promise.”
Her daughter looked at her in surprise. “I am fine mother, quite busy, but fine.”
Gloria knew she wasn’t fine. She knew her daughter was following in her own footsteps, too busy to stop and smell the roses. Gloria remembered the angel.
“Julie,” she asked her daughter, “Do you believe in angels?”
Julie gave her a puzzled look.
“I do.” Gloria told her, “At least, I do now.”
Her next thought was to ask God to forgive her for doubting him and then begged—Please God, just give me a few more years so I can undo some of the damage I’ve done to my children. The image of her children as flowers reaching out for nourishment but wilting in the sun came to mind. Just give me enough time to water them a little.
Julie broke into her thoughts, “I know you are angry mother, but we felt we had to put you here. We had no choice, not with both of us working so many hours a week.”
Gloria patted her hand “Don’t worry. I am fine now. Come closer I want to tell you a secret.”
When Julie bent her head close to her mother’s, Gloria said, “There is a rabbit living over near that huge tree but don’t say anything. They might decide to get rid of it. It will be our secret.” Gloria smiled with mischievous mirth.
Her daughter’s face brightened, “Mom, I don’t think
I’ve seen you smile for a long time.”
“Oh, you just wait.” Gloria said. Then laughed to herself because her mind was already churning with what steps she could take to teach her children to stop and smell the roses. She already decided to have Julie help her order planters to make a flower garden in her room.
“I got plans.” She told Julie. “I am going to make a real garden inside my room to tend to every day and maybe outside in front of the window too. I need help ordering an angel statue to put in the middle of the plants. Will you help me with that?”
“Of course, mother. Anything you need.”
“Might convince a few other residents to begin gardens in their rooms too, maybe start a garden club.”
At the thought, her steps became more jaunty and spry the closer they got to the manor.
The end
Exceedingly tired now, having walked many miles, up and down hills and through sparse forest of pine and white fir, in knee deep snow, the trapper watched the dying rays of the sun descend behind Bearded Mountain where the profile of old man with the beard looked forever West. The old man looked ready to nod off to sleep just as the trapper hoped to do soon. The string of pelts slung over his back was heavy and burdensome but would fetch a good price as soon as the snow melted and he could pull the wagon of collected furs to the trading post. He pictured his small cabin waiting for him just over the next ridge of the valley. He’d chopped and gathered wood then set it inside the cabin before he left to keep it dry and ready for his return.
As the full moon rose up between the mountains, ready to take over the night watch, the quiet perfection of the scene caused the trapper to pause for a long moment. The moon was a lighted giant hanging against the darkening sky and the long disk of the Milky Way. The tips of fir trees growing up the surrounding mountains seemed to touch the sky. The blanket of smooth, unbroken snow in front of him sparkled, as if sprinkled with a layer of moon dust. The moment held still and filled the trapper’s soul with a profound peace as if time itself had stopped. The valley lay hushed in deep sleep.
The moment passed. The trapper sucked in an icy breath, but the valley kept its silent beauty as he began the final, slow steps towards his cabin and its promise of warmth. Little did the trapper know that that this single moment of quiet peace would imbue his soul so deeply that it would never leave.
~
When Miriam looked high up to the ceiling at the tarnished shower head, her body began to tremble. She knew, suddenly, that those hushed rumors about the shower of death were true. Whimpers and soft screams from the other women in the shower proved that they had begun to understand this too. Miriam thought she might scream with terror.
Just moments ago she had followed the others single file from their sleeping hut then out into the dusk and down the path to the showers, each of them kept their heads bowed low to avoid the black chips of soot spewing out from the chimney, After laboring all day, she was too tired to complain, could barely lift one foot in front of another. But one look at the showerhead and fear gripped her heart.
Suddenly, she felt angel arms wrap around her body enveloping it in a tight embrace. The angel whispered into her ear, “Your God loves you, you will live again.”
At the angels
words, Miriam’s mind comforted into a reoccurring dream, a dream so vivid it
seemed to be a real memory. Instead of the shower room, she now stood in a vast
valley filled with snow that reached up to her knees, she had a string of pelts
slung over her right shoulder, a huge silver moon hung in the overhead sky, and
evergreen trees rose up the sides of the mountains. The side of the highest
mountain looked like the outline of an old man wearing a beard. Somehow, she
knew it was called
The peace and quiet of the scene so filled her mind that her heart calmed until the poison poured out from the showerhead and caused her body to thrash into unconsciousness and death.
~
John was hyped up with the challenge and determined to sign the papers today so the builders could begin excavating and paving the roads for the housing development. The land he bought at auction was finally his to do with what he choose and he wasn’t about to let a snow emergency slow him down. As soon as he’d seen that land, he knew he had to buy it. It was a deep valley surrounded by low mountains covered in conifers and wild grass. The bikers had crisscrossed it with dirt paths that ran through scrub brush and wild flowers. When he’d walked the site a few weeks ago, the tall grass was turning to brown from the hot summer sun. The land was of no use to anyone and he’d gotten a real bargain. It even included an old Indian tale about a bearded old man, hence the name of one of the mountains. John thought he might use the theme somehow in the name of the housing project. If all went well, he expected to rake in millions.
He turned left onto the entrance ramp of the freeway and speeded up. The snowplows had been busy already this morning, so he wasn’t worried about the roads. He heard a voice in his ear, “Slow down.” He rubbed at his ear as if to erase an annoyance. His imagination must be working overtime this morning, but he heard the voice again, “John, slow down.”
Well, maybe he should. He took another drink of the cooled off coffee just before he swerved around a truck. As he did, his SUV hit a thin film of black ice, which slid the vehicle sideways off the roadway into a low ditch, but it didn’t stop there, it kept going until it finally tumbled over a deep incline filled with trees snarled in vines. He heard metal crunch and felt a sharp pain in his right leg before he passed out.
When he woke up, he couldn’t move his leg. The SUV was lying on its left side and a fallen tree limb blocked the other door. He was stuck fast and hoped he could find his phone. It must of went flying out of his pocket when the car tumbled. The day was brightening, which eased his search for the phone. He found it wedged into the passenger seat cushion. With shaky hands, he managed to stretch and reach over and pull the phone from the stuck position, and then dialed 911. Static, of course.
He kept trying and finally got through to the operator. He couldn’t tell her exactly where he was located only that he’d been headed west. Had the operator heard him? He wasn’t sure because her words broke up in the static just as the phone went dead. John told himself not to panic. The car had slid a long way into the field and landed far below the highway but surly someone would see the skid marks.
John had no choice but sit tight and wait. Waiting wasn’t one of his strong points. He’d always been in a hurry, that was how he kept his business going, by being quick with ideas and the first to plan them out. Admittedly, he was slowing down a bit with old age but he still outpaced many others in the business. Actually, he’d outlived many of them too, but he didn’t choose to think about that.
With nothing else to do, John sat thinking about the land he’d purchased. He didn’t know why he was so determined to have it. He’d fought for it by out bidding three other corporations before he won out and made the final sale. He had enough developmental projects going and didn’t need this new challenge, but this was the way he worked. Always a struggle to stay ahead of the game.
He sighed. Well, not at the moment. Nothing to do but sit here and wait for rescue. He sat fuming at first, then reluctant and consigned to his fate. He dosed off once or twice.
Then suddenly he jerked awake, but not really awake because now he stood in a snow filled valley. It was the land he’d just bought, but it looked much different from when he’d walked it months ago, in late summer. He saw himself surrounded by a blanket of deep snow. He felt himself a trapper with a string of pelts slung over his back, dreaming of the warmth of a fire in his cabin over the next ridge.
The moon overhead was a silver giant that glittered on the top layer of snow. The fir trees that grew up the surrounding mountains seemed to hold the silence in place. He saw that one mountain was shaped like an old man’s face; the evergreen trees made it look like he was wearing a beard. Oh, yes. Bearded Mountain.
He stood contemplating the sudden peace and profound quiet that covered the valley. It was the single, most profound moment that John had ever experienced. He felt reluctant to move, to take the next step. He looked down at himself and saw that he was wearing furs like the pelts he carried and snowshoes tied with twine.
John took in a large breath of cold, fresh air but then heard a clash and bang. He shook his head to clear it and strained to see outside the car. A crane was lowering a chain down to him and the rescue workers were sliding through the snow and down the tall embankment to where he’d landed. He cringed at the sudden loss of comforting quietude and peace.
Reality sucks, he thought, although he was thankful to be rescued.
It turned out that his SUV was totaled but his leg only had a large gash that the doctors cleaned and bandaged. John called the lawyers from the hospital and told them that the deal was off, that he would not build the housing project after all. He refused to give an explanation and kept saying that his decision was final.
Within months after
the accident, John began building a log cabin in the valley that would face
The cabin was
completed before the next winter, but the front porch was still only bare
planks without a railing when the first heavy snow arrived in the valley. John
stepped onto the porch and looked up at
The end
Exhausted, I breathed a sigh of relief when I
finally detected a whiff of Amber’s scent in
I usually welcomed the desperate desires that filtered up from earth because, when I turned my empathy to full, I could seep into a soul and ease what troubled a person. It is my job, after all, and an easy one too, as long as I stayed aloft and far away inside the cloud habitat. Too close to earth my emotions could be pulled down and anchored by the over whelming pull of sorrow or pain. Hence, my pleasure over Lake Huron’s peaceful wonder and empty beauty.
Peaceful, but not for long. I detected a small
wisp of her presence that pulled me towards the bottom of
My realm was beyond the clouds in space but my empathy and love readily fell to earth to those in need. Not so, my wondrous butterfly whose boundless love and need to heal human minds and hearts drove her to linger ever longer upon earth’s surface where each moment touched at the fringe of danger.
I warned her of the danger once again as I held her close before her last foray to earth and begged her to reconsider. “Earth will grab you one day and not let you go.”
“But I must go. Can’t you see?” she said. “Look down. Do you see that child in the crib who is crying for love and look at that old women bent over with sorrow. How can I stay aloft while so many tears are shed?”
“But you can’t save them all.”
“I know, but I must do what I can.”
I tried to understand, that for her, sending love and empathy wasn’t enough, she had to touch people and feel the healing inside their soul. Even so, with all her flightiness, she was usually careful to stay only a short time at each landing site because none of us was sure of what might happen if an untrained angel were to stay too long on earth. To put it bluntly, unless we were specifically trained in earth culture, we were supposed to do most of our work from the safety of the sky, not standing in green parkland or on a dirty street corner. Amber, my tiny butterfly was different, impatient and flighty. So I had sighed once more and watched her fly downwind until she disappeared in a cloud of smog held aloft by motionless winds.
Her last trip was a long while ago and it wasn’t like her to stay away. Too many times, I watched her push up through a cloud to grab hold of my hand to tell me of the people she had met and rescued. This time, after she didn’t return, I decided to search her out by following her trail, but I could never seem to catch up.
Finally, I did catch up with her. To my horror, I found her stuck inside a prison, beneath its thick roof as if caught below the waves of a deadening sea. She was drowning, but what hook could I use to pull her out? My head was already swimming in confusion from the many mind-screams that swirled up to me from beneath that roof. I cringed as I tried to block the most horrible of thoughts that vibrated through the air into my mind. I managed to dampen them slightly by saying a repetitive prayer in my head because I knew had to push down and go to her. My butterfly, my sweet flower, living in a place for criminals and murderers. Impossible! How could such a thing happen?
The image of iron bars filled my mind mixing in with the song as I lowered myself through the roof, but her room didn’t have bars only a small window that faced a long hallway. As I entered her cell, I immediately saw and felt the horror of her condition. My sudden presence woke her. Oh, what a face it was that looked up at me from under the thin blanket. Her eyes sunk far into her head exaggerated her cheekbones as her face stared out at me. Her pallor reflected a sickly green like the color of the small, stark cell. She lay withered, a flower cut from its roots, or a butterfly stuck on a pin.
She tried to raise her head up but could not.
More determined, now, I urged to collect her and carry her home. Though I am an angel with multiple powers, I didn’t have the authority to explode the walls of that place though I dearly craved to do so at that moment. Helpless and desperate, I contacted the other angels about her plight with the hope that together we could lift her up and away.
My attempt to hide my worry from her failed, and I cried out, “Surly, I am not too late? What have they done to you? Did they beat you, starve you?” My voice bounced and echoed inside the small room.
Her face lit up with expectation at my presence, but then sobered. She smiled and slowly lifted her small, delicate boned hand for me to take hold of as I knelt by her side.
“No.” she said in a small voice and closed her eyes as if in deep shame. “They…they…they” she stuttered trying to push the words out as if she hadn’t spoken in a long time. “They took away the sky.”
Her hand felt light as a feather and I held to it as if it were her life in my hand.
“How did you get into a place such as this? I asked, my voice angry, but then said, “No, I don’t need to know right now. I just need to get you out of here.”
“Oh, if only you could.” she sobbed and tears ran down her sunken cheeks, then she added, “I am not always sane. Are you truly here?”
“Yes, dear, I am truly here. I summoned the other angels. We will call on God. Our God will save you.”
She sighed and seemed to sink even further down onto the bed. “This room is what they call solitary confinement. I tried to hug the other prisoners and then I couldn’t be with people. So…very alone.”
She began to cry softly as she told me, “I so wanted to help Gerald but then he killed those policemen and then I picked up the gun and it felt hot and…and…here I am and I can’t get out.”
“We will get you out soon.”
“I wish I were dust so I could dry up and blow away.” With these words she dropped her hand away from mine, closed her eyes and said in such a low voice I had to bend down close to hear the words,.
“God help me, but now I understand why these confined people beg to die. This is a torture beyond enduring. People bang their heads against the wall repeatedly or scream and scream until they no longer have a voice.”
At her words, the moans and screams blasted back into my own mind. I managed to slam the door closed against their raw emotions that hit at me from every direction. My mind shuddered with their pain.
“Hold on for a short while, help is on its way.”
I hugged her and began to lift her into a sitting position on the cot. She opened her dark eyes that glistened with moisture and said, “I don’t think I can.”
In a sudden panic, I said, “You are an angel, you cannot die. Surly God will not allow it?”
All the while, I was feeling the weight of a thousand thoughts of sorrow, blasphemy and hatred pull at my body and mind, each one a threat to myself. If I didn’t hurry, I would be an addition to the prison population. I needed to leave soon, or not at all. “We must leave, now.”
Still in my arms, she half lifted her hand towards me as if to pull me closer, then her hand dropped down and she closed her eyes as she fell back onto the cot.
“Don’t you see.” she whispered, “When they took away the sky, they took the angel out of me.”
With these words she died. I heard the death rattle in her body as I pulled her up out of the bed and tried to lift her out of that despicable place. Her lifeless body weighed me down so much that I finally came to my senses and gave up trying.
I sobbed as I floated above her lifeless body.
“Now your soul will be completely consumed with God.” I whispered through my tears. Time was quickly running out for me too, so I had to leave beautiful Amber, crumpled upon her cot, my tiny white butterfly who’d dared fly too close to the flame.
The End
Note: Angels are not limited like I portray them in this story. This story is my reaction to reading about the horrors of solitary confinement and what it can do to the human psyche.
Head bent down, Julie looked longingly at the small, white ripples on the river below the Belle Isle Bridge; water, beautiful, treasured and merciless. It would take only one quick moment to end the anguish. She welcomed the finality of the thought, the silent blankness that would hold her tight, caress her like a lover as she slipped into the water’s depths. Or would the water hit her like an iron fist smashing her body into bits and pieces. Even that pain would be welcome, a final release.
Her braids flipped
back and forth in the wind slapping at her face as if to wake her from a dream.
Both her hands, rubbed raw from the sharp wind, clutched the rail in a tight
strangle hold. Julie’s fingers tightened on the chest high rail. She could easily
lift herself over its top and felt ready to do so, to make that final
jump.
The angel, Muriel, had picked up on Julie’s distress then focused all her talents to stopping the downward spiral of her emotions. She’d stood next to Julie hugging her tight. She prayed, she begged, she pleaded for her mind to heal. None of her efforts had moved the young mother out her depth of despair. The angel’s soft whispered entreaties couldn’t penetrate Julie’s anguish.
Julie’s passion was
to end it all, stop the heartache, and erase the money troubles by ending
herself. Her determination seemed iron solid. It was now 3 am in the morning so
she must have walked for a long while after leaving her apartment on
Muriel knew she could fix enough of Julie’s life to give her hope if only she could stop the jump. All she needed was a little extra time. Perplexed, Muriel ran ideas through her mind. She thought of Clarence in “It’s a Wonderful Life.” Would that work with Julie? Perhaps, or something like it? The problem was that Muriel was inexperienced and had never tried transforming herself into a solid human before. It took a lot of skill and a vivid imagination. Before such a transformation, she would need to know the person’s character, habits, speech, mannerisms, and style of clothing, a tall order for even an angel.
She did have the ability to stretch her own sense of time, which would give her more time to think. So this is what Muriel did because the situation was serious and she dare not make an error in judgment on what type of person to invent. There was no time to waste. Julie was already leaning far over the edge of the bridge.
In the few minutes Muriel had stood next her, she’d learned much about the young mother. Julie had two boy children, ages 3 and 6, who were sleeping at a friend’s apartment down the hall. The friend kept ringing Julie on her phone but Julie refused to answer. Julie and her husband had had a knockout drag-out fight just before he walked out this evening. He’d been drinking and gambling so much lately he hadn’t paid their bills and they were about to be evicted from their apartment. Julie felt helpless to change her situation because she had been unemployed for a long time.
With so many seemingly unsolvable problems, the angel could understand why Julie was depressed and desperate to end it all. Yet, even with all these problems, the morning light could bring a brighter perspective. Her children would wake up and give their mother a hug. Muriel was determined to see this happen.
The idea of Julie’s children is what gave Muriel the idea of who she should become. She stepped into a dark shadow and began the transformation from invisible angel into a young boy of about 14, with dark skin, curly black hair, slight of build, and wearing roughed-up street cloths. A waif of a child, whose name would be Ron, the same as Julie’s oldest son.
Ron climbed up on the railing of the McCarther Bridge; stood swaying over the water, then began a tightrope walk on the top edge towards where Julie stood hidden by shadow. His arms stretched out, he turned around, playful and pleased with his own daring. He swayed but his foot slipped. He had to grab at the fat light pole to stop his fall.
“Yipe.” he yelled.
Julie looked to her right when she heard the sound.
Ron’s fright didn’t last long and he climbed back up onto the railing and began to walk towards Julie again, his arms swung out for balance. Annoyance was plastered on his face that shown beneath the lighted moon.
“Hey, lady. You can’t be here. I got a guy to meet. We got us an appointment. Business to take care of. You got to leave.
Julie looked at him with dead eyes. “Get lost.” she said. “I was here first.”
Ron sat down on the bridge straddling each leg over as if riding a horse.
“Well, my pal is powerful. Don’t take no shit from anyone. I was giving you a warning, friendly like.”
When Julie looked at him, her face filled with indifference. She looked down to the water again, intending to ignore the boy.
Ron began banging his shoes against the steel railing. This set up a cacophony of clanging sounds along the bridge. He began clapping to the rhythm, lost his balance and fell over towards the edge. He caught himself with his right hand and swung his body back up to stand next to Julie.
“Damn close, that was.”
This made Julie look over to him and frown. “You look kinda young to be out here on a bridge in the middle of the night. Shouldn’t you be home tucked into bed?”
“Oh, yeah! So who’s gonna tuck me in? The tooth fairy?”
Ron laughed, jumped back on the bridge, sat saddle-like and began to bang his feet again. His harsh laugh kept time to the beats.
“Maybe your mother.” Julie said in a stern voice.
“Nope. Ain’t got no mom. Gone long time ago.”
“I am sorry.” Julie said and turned her head down once more to watch the moon lit water.
“Don’t matter. I am a free spirit. I do what I want, when I want.”
Julie’s shoulders shuddered. She shook her head.
Ron stood up on the railing once more and began to walk it. He grabbed a light pole and swung around, then straddled the rail to move towards Julie.
“Hey. You gotta be going now, before my pal gets here to conduct our business.”
Julie frowned, cocked her head and looked up at the boy. She sighed.
“What kind of business gets done in the dark of the night?” Julie moved her arm around as if to display the whole setting: The car-less bridge, the Detroit River rippling with moon light, branches from the willow trees that lined the shore swaying back and forth in the stiff breeze. The silent stars above baring witness to the night. Julie looked up at those stars buried in their velvet cushion of death. The sky was aglow in blue because the city was never truly dark, nor was the city ever truly quiet. She could hear the sounds of traffic from the freeway in the far distance.
Ron leaned forward to look up at the stars too and this time he did fall off the bridge.
“Ah. Damn.”
He hung from the rail’s bottom rung with his feet dangling far above the water.
Julie had jumped when he yelled as he dropped off the bridge. She ran the five feet to where he dangled.
“Here, let me help you up.” She said as she reached out her hand.
“Let up, lady. I can do it myself.”
But he couldn’t do it himself. Fear showed plain on his face. Julie pulled his other hand up until he could grab on with both hands and swing himself up and over.
It took a few moments for Julie’s breathing to become steady again after such a fright. The boy’s too, though he tried to keep his fear hidden.
“What’s your name?” Julie asked.
The boy frowned. “Ron.”
“Why do you frown?”
“Don’t like my name. The old bitch shoulda least gave me a better name before she left.”
“Ron’s is a good name. My son’s name is Ronnie.”
“Stupid name.”
A motorcycle revved its motor about a mile away towards the inner city.
“Hey. My pal’s coming now. You better get lost lady. He can get mean like a snake.”
Julie looked more closely at the boy. A young black boy, heading into deep trouble. Happens all the time.
“Maybe you should come home with me?” Julie said with hesitation in her voice.
“You’re kidding right? Me give up my freedom? Look what I got cause of my freedom.” Ron pulled a wad of bills out of his pocket. “I got freedom. What you got?”
Julie had a puzzled expression on her face that quickly turned to sorrow. She had suddenly realized what she did have. Three hours ago she’d left the neighbor’s apartment, left Ronnie in his Big Bird pajamas, asleep with his arm around little James. James with his button nose, fat cheeks and wild hair. The blanket askew on the couch as they slept entwined together.
For the first time that night, Julie’s face broadened into a smile.
“You better get lost lady, I hear my pal, and he’s coming.”
“Yes. I think I will.” Julie said softly as she turned and began a hurried walk towards the end of the bridge and home.
By the time Julie reached Jefferson, Muriel, once more invisible, walked by her side also wearing a smile. Now she had that extra time she needed. Surly she could make an adjustment to Julie’s life that would put her on a better path. Suddenly, Muriel skipped around Julie in a circle dance of delight, singing into the wind that popular song from a few years back, “Don’t worry, be happy.” She added her own verse as she sang, “I promise you’ll be alright. Don’t worry, be happy.”
The end
Devon was fascinated by the feel of Julie’s skin. It felt like rubber and smelled like chemicals. Two mornings ago, Julie had been vibrant and vital, running around in circles and sticking out her tongue at him as she ran with her hair flying behind her in the wind. She laughed so joyfully that he thought the flowers and trees laughed with her. She was like a summer breeze. Now, summer is gone. The laughter and running and teasing are gone too and won’t ever come back.
He turned and pulled away from his mother who was still standing next to the coffin crying. He pushed past his Aunt Sheryl who reached out for him, but he was quicker as he ran outside. This minute, he needed to be away from all the people. He needed to be alone. He’d never been alone before, not real alone, not without Julie. She was his baby sister and always a pest and a friend and a real, live person who loved him so much.
“I lov’b you, Dev.” Julie said holding her chubby arms up to him, “Me up.”
It was this memory
that
Did her all her love and full of life-ness suddenly float up to heaven when she fell? Cause he was there and knew that Julie was gone in an instant. One second there, the next second not. She fell and lay still when the bullet hit the back of her head. Her bounce and laughter left right then. Where did her bounce go?
He lifted his head and looked up at the clouds
floating in the sky. Maybe the bounce went up there into the clouds. He looked
down again as he shuffled down the sidewalk. He watched an ant crawl out of the
grass beside the broken sidewalk and walk to a crumb lying in the cracked
cement. He wondered where the ant would go if he stomped his foot down on it.
What part of the ant would leave? He could end its hunt for food. Stop its
bounce. He decided to do it. He raised his tennis shoe and was about to step on
the ant. He paused.
No. Enough dead for now. He remembered when their cat Jojo got hit by a car. When he found him the next day, he was stiff like a board and all messed up with black blood and tire marks. His eyes were smoky and his fir was matted and dirty. He cried when Jojo died.
He didn’t cry for Julie. Why can’t I cry for Julie? He felt puzzled about that and felt cold. Guess I am not sad enough yet. Don’t need to cry. He shivered instead. Julie took the summer away, that’s what she did. When she left, the color of summer left too. Now it was all gray and dull. He lifted his head and stared at the sun hanging behind a cloud, a lot of clouds up there and the sun was the wrong color now too just like everything else.
He saw a whiskey bottle leaning against a brick building. He picked it up and threw it hard against the brick side of the building. It broke in half and splashed out amber liquid but didn’t break enough. So he picked up the broken half and threw it again. Then he found a brick lying in the grass and threw the brick at the wall but it only made a thudding noise. No fun in that. He wanted to make noise, crash something, break the world apart. Make summer fun again. The next piece of brick he threw he aimed at the window and felt joy and excitement when he heard the pieces crash down on to the sidewalk in splinters. Then he ran, and ran laughing.
But someone was running just as fast after him. Someone with big footsteps and heavy shoes and a big breath huffing and puffing. He ran faster and faster but the slap, slap of hard shoes on the cement sidewalk kept running behind him.
Finally, so out of breath, he couldn’t run anymore. He stopped and bent over holding his belly because it hurt so bad. Suddenly a pair of big, hard hands grabbed him and lifted him up off the grassy ground next to the sidewalk. He fought and kicked but it didn’t do any good. He was caught, like in a vise, held tight and firm. It was then that he began to cry. Fear pulled huge tears down his dusty cheeks in big globs. He screamed as he cried, loud screams mixed up in salt tears and snot.
“Let-me-go, let-me-go.” He yelled. “Let-me-go!”
He smelled whiskey breath as the man with the big hands yelled back, “Hah, I’ll let you go.”
Devon felt himself flying high through the air then down again until he hit the ground like a squashed pumpkin. He was too stunned to move for a moment. When he opened his eyes all he could see was a grown man with days old whiskers and blood shot eyes leaning over him, drooling as he spoke.
“Broke my last bottle. Damn brat. Take it out of your hide.
He saw the man’s huge hand rise up as if to punch him, so he closed his eyes.
That was when he saw Julie. She floated in front of him and her whole body had a glow around it as if she were an angel. A white gown covered her body and her skin glistened like the moon.
“Don’t move, Dev, don’t move.” He heard her whisper.
His eyes still closed, Devon watched her float away after she whispered like a drifting fog over a lake. Then she was gone just as fast as she’d come.
His own danger forgotten for the moment, he squeezed his eyes together tight to bring Julie back. Please come back Julie, please.
He smelled the
whiskey breath blowing past his face just then and remembered he was in danger.
Every nerve in his body wanted to jump up and run, but Julie had told him to
stay still.
I am really alone now, he sobbed. No, wait. That isn’t right, I am not alone. Julie was right here by my side when I needed help. She was here for me. He looked at the place where she had floated only a few moments before and wondered if she belonged to the wind now. Yah, maybe she is riding on the wind when it blows past my face or maybe she is dancing and sparkling like the sun on water.
Suddenly,
“Thank you Julie,” he called out to the soft breeze that sifted through his hair.
He skipped back to the funeral parlor just as the service was ending. He put his arms around his mother in the front row.
“Don’t cry, mom, Julie didn’t go too far away.”
As he said the words, he pictured the wind dancing papers off the sidewalk and singing through the trees. He added, “Julie is an angel now. She dances in the summer wind.”
The End
Jacob’s smile turned into grim determination as he stepped out of the shelter’s door into the cold air. Early snow now covered the ground except for the sidewalk where it was beginning to melt. The air was blistering cold, which made him shiver beneath the thin black jacket. He pulled up the collar as best he could and shoved his hands into the pockets. His left tennis shoe was torn on the side and his right sole had a small hole, which meant that his socks would get wet before long.
He’d been on the street for four months now and knew the ropes but the sight of snow had brought to mind how much harder it will be to scrounge around for food in cold, wet weather. He looked up at the gray clouds in the sky and thought the snow might not be done falling. He’d need a better coat along with a new pair of shoes soon. That meant finding an odd job or standing on a corner begging for money, which he dreaded. One time he’d almost got pulled into a man’s car for something other than money. Now he only begged during the day and made sure other people were nearby.
He began to walk briskly to warm up even though he didn’t know where he was going just yet. As he walked down Chene, he thought he saw a thick jacket sleeve hanging out of a trash bin in a side alley, so he turned and walked over to it. As he reached up, a kid came from behind the bin, then two others.
“What you doing old man.” The kid laughed, his eyes glassy from whatever stuff he was using. One of the other kids gave Jacob a shove. “What you think you’re doing here, heh? What?”
“Stealing our goods, that’s what.” The third boy said then laughed as he sent a punch at him. But Jacob wasn’t such an old man yet, so he stayed on his feet and got ready to swing his own fist.
All three kids laughed. The one with the scarf around his neck made a hanging motion. One kid tried to kick him but Jacob stepped quickly out of reach. Jacob had a sudden change of heart. These were just kids who didn’t know any better. He turned and hurriedly walked away as the kids jeered and called names at his back.
Damn kids are just as dangerous as dogs now a days. Not worth the bother, going up against three young punks. He felt relieved when he stood on Chene once more and headed south towards Gratiot. Imagine kids hanging out behind a trash bin so they could take their dope and hide from truant officers. Do they even have truant officers today? Jacob didn’t know and just shook his head, thankful to get away. Besides, he didn’t feel so great this morning.
He’d enjoyed the shelter bed so much, he didn’t want to climb out of it. Maybe I am coming down with a cold. Would have needed to get there at 5:30 to try for a paper route and then maybe not get chosen for work anyway. They counted thirty heads and then cut off the hiring for the day. Regulars tended to stick around and were picked first. Good money if you could keep up the hard work day after day. Maybe one of the drunks wouldn’t show up and they’d pick him to fill in tomorrow. It had happened once or twice. He’d give it a try, but the way he felt, he wondered if he could walk the required miles.
A sudden gust of
wind pushed at him so he quickened his pace to build up warmth. So far, his
direction was taking him towards the Capuchin’s for lunch or to
As he passed the freeway exit, he saw another man with torn jeans and a light, green windbreaker leaning against the lamppost. Looks like he needed a warmer jacket too. Jacob thought he’d seen him before as he left the shelter so avoided going close. Some people on the street were crazy so it was best to avoid those you didn’t know. Jacob walked further down Chene to Gratiot. He turned to the front of a small liqueur store and squeezed into a slight alcove away from the swirling wind that was blowing paper wrappers and other debris on the sidewalk. He felt a blast of heat from inside as a man in a long overcoat came out of the store.
“You got a few dollars,” Jacob asked him. The man didn’t even look in his direction as he hurried away. The same with the next person. Then two girls went in and came out of the store carrying a bag filled with booze and chips laughing. He thought they ignored him too, but he heard the comment as they walked towards the corner, “They’re all fakes anyway. Watched a program on television last night about the homeless. That lady made thousands.”
Jacob had watched the same program as he sat in the shelter with five other men. The program showed the video of a camera that had secretly followed a woman wearing rags and begging until she snuck away then changed into snazzy cloths and climbed into a blue luxury car.
Harold and Dan both commented. “Yeah, what city she in? Must be made of gold.” “What a farce. Makes it bad for real people like us.”
Jacob nodded his agreement. Most of us would be damn lucky to beg five or ten bucks in one day.
Still squeezed into the alcove for relief from the wind, Jacob perked up when a man in a black leather jacket lined with fur looked right at him as he walked down Gratiot, but then the man shook his head and walked past. The next person he asked was a woman who was walking and pulling a young boy by the arm who was stomping the fresh puddles with his boots. She must have seen him try to pull his jacket closer on his neck and had pity on him. She stopped and searched through her purse for change and gave it to him.
Jacob counted the change, less than a dollar fifty; not enough to buy a coffee let alone a used coat, but it was more than he had before. As he put the change into his inside pocket, he happened to glance across the street and saw the same man who had been at the freeway exit wearing the light, green jacket and torn jeans. He zipped up his pocket and looked up once more. The man was gone. He shrugged, must have been mistaken.
A white man, bald with a short beard, got out of a caddy that had just pulled up in front the store, as he ran in the store; he gave Jacob a dirty look when he asked for money. The shopkeeper followed the caddy man out of the store and told Jacob to move on.
“No soliciting in front of my store.” he said with an angry voice.
Jacob mumbled, “Sorry.” He started walking again, trying to avoid the puddles of melted snow as he headed towards Mt Elliot. He decided to get a good lunch at Capuchin’s instead of the Salvation Army truck. It should be almost noon.
As he left, he noticed that St. Vincent de Paul store was close by. If he could have begged just a few dollars off people, he might have found a good used coat. Still, shoes would be a problem. His feet were so big good used shoes or boots were hard to find.
As he walked trying to avoid the puddles from melting snow, he thought about fake homeless people. Truth be told, he’d run into a few, but there weren’t that many. He laughed to himself as he remembered old Murry who’d found a used wheelchair and put it to good use begging. Poor man really did get sick after that. Gone now. Begging is a hard way to make a living, actually the most stupid way if you could find anything else that paid. Definitely, tomorrow, sick or not, he’d try again for a paper route.
The Capuchin hall
was filling up fast. They always had the best food and everyone knew it, but
you had to have a ticket. Come in drunk or acting crazy and out you’d go again.
Jacob went up to the window, got his ticket, and sat down to wait until he
could get in line for lunch. A light, green windbreaker caught his eye. It was
that same man he’d seen earlier sitting against the far wall. Well nothing
wrong with that.
Lunch was mashed potatoes and gravy with turkey, green beans with applesauce for desert. Nice hot meal and the room was warm, but before long they told everyone to leave so they could clean up and get ready for dinner.
Back up to Gratiot once more, Jacob tried his hand at asking for a few dollars from the cars that had to stop at the light. One man did reach over and hand him a few dollars, but most of them drove on past as if he wasn’t there. A few actually got angry. One man gave him the finger and yelled, “Get a job ass hole.”
Jacob got angry himself and was about to give him the finger back when he noticed the light, green windbreaker. He squinted at the man. Yep, the same man he’d seen three times before standing across the street by the gas station.
“What the hell? Is the man following me, or what?” he mumbled. Then weaved in and out through traffic stopped at the light with the intention of walking up to the man to ask him.
When he finally got across the street and up close to the man at the gas station, he forgot his anger. How could he be angry with a man who wore such a beautiful smile? Dammed if the man didn’t glow with happiness, as if the sun had come out from behind the clouds just for him.
“Hi.” Jacob called as he walked near. “Almost looks like you’ve been following me.”
“I have,” the man said.
The words stopped Jacob in his tracks. He looked closer at the man wondering if he knew him from some place.
“What for? Gonna hand me a hundred bucks, or something.” Jacob laughed.
“Not quite, something better.”
“Really?” Jacob said astounded.
“Look in your pocket.”
Jacob reached into his jacket pocket. He felt a card. “Damn, where’d this come from?” He held the card close so he could read the writing. It read, “J & D Enterprises. Had an address underneath and Jacob read the words, “Now hiring.”
He looked up to the man in the light, green jacket, but he was gone. He looked around in a circle but the smiling man was nowhere to be found. When he looked back down at the card, the words “Now hiring,” was gone like it’d never been, but the address was still there.
As he stood holding the card at the busy gas station, Jacob knew he’d just met an angel. He’d learned about angels in Catholic grade school and, as a child, never doubted they existed. As he grew up, he’d lost whatever faith he’d had. Almost went back to church for Jenny, but she dumped him just before he lost his last job. Come to think of it, she dumped me because she said she couldn’t be with a man who didn’t have faith in God. So, now what? If I still believe in angels does that mean I believe in God too?
Jacob smiled. Pride filled his heart and the usual dejected look he wore on his face changed to one of hope. Yes, a shower, good night’s sleep, and then to the employment office at J & D Enterprises. His identification papers had Capuchin’s address and he could use their phone if he had to wait for a call, but Jacob had the feeling he’d be put right to work in the morning doing the kind of job he was used to doing, driving a semi-trailer. Jacob smiled and he almost danced as he left the gas station. With a job and faith, maybe he’d get Jenny back too. He knew the job would be waiting for him in the morning. He knew something else too; he’d never again walk past a homeless person without stopping to give aid.
The end
An observer, if there had been one standing in the back of the gas station near the intersection of 14 mile road and the I-75 freeway access would have seen the tip of a foot, then half a leg, and then the whole body of a young man slide into view, like a diver rising sideways from the water. The visitor looked like any other normal human on the outside, but on the inside, his mind was bursting with confusion.
The blackness of earth’s aura sank in and hovered around each of his brain cells squeezing them tight. He’d known it would happen as soon as he stepped into the earth’s atmosphere. The warnings on his own world were clear: “Stay away from earth. Earth is dangerous. It grabs souls and kills minds.”
He could already feel earth’s aura worm through his brain. Each second of earth time could strip away more strength and moral fiber. The power he’d used to hover above the ground a few inches was already gone. Other talents were probably diminished as well. Quickly he reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a small white box with four pieces of hard-coated gum inside. He’d ground the herbs himself to produce the gum and then gave it a candy coating. The televised reports showed that earth people chewed breath mint gum all the time. His gum included special chemicals meant to ward off the darkness that was even now squeezing his brain tight.
In those first few minutes, an unknown hunger had already dug deep into his mind. Odd desires and cravings suddenly exploded out of proportion to warp his usual level headedness. The sign showing a cold, icy beer looked so inviting he thought to walk inside the gas station and buy a six pack. On the way, he found himself looking with longing at a powder blue Chevy convertible left idling near the pump. The keys were in the ignition. He felt an urge to open the door, step in, and drive it through the rugged landscapes like the television advertisements he’d watched while studying for this trip.
He actually stepped closer to the blue car and grabbed the handle with his right hand, but, with his left hand, he popped a piece of gum into his mouth. Four chews later, the blocking effect took hold and he stood looking with horror at what he’d almost done. A man came out of the gas station, glared at him, got in the blue convertible and drove off.
Thankfully, the darkness soon dissipated into background noise, but still he sensed it hover like a waiting, open clamshell, ready to snap closed at the least provocation. He sucked in a breath, looked up to heaven, and closed his eyes in an attempt to check in with God to make sure he had not lost vital presence. To do so, his mind needed to carve like a knife though the dark thoughts of a billion minds then up through the blue sky and beyond until he found a rainbow path to the glistening fountain of God. God might be everywhere in the universe, but right now, he needed the extreme fix of a direct line. Warmed by the comforting feeling of golden light pouring into his soul, he dared continue his earthen search.
He wasn’t sure how long a single piece of gum would last. He guessed about twenty-four hours, but he suspected it might depend on the level of darkness he encountered. The search should go quickly because his mental range was quite large so he expected to detect her presence without too much effort. Also, he had an approximate idea of the area he needed to search. If he didn’t find her within two days, he would leave for home. Before he came, he known he would need an earth name, and had set one up for himself, but now couldn’t remember the name he’d chosen. Had the darkness worked on him so deeply already? Not important now. He could read the identification papers in his pocket. Does the dark muddle up the most recent memories first? If so, he’d already learned more than he expected for this was an investigative study as much as a search for his sister.
He read the billboards that straddled the road as he walked. With all his attention concentrated on the steps his new feet made on the stones beside the ribbon of pavement, he was startled when a booming truck bellowed out steam and pulled to the side and park right in front of him.
A voice yelled out to him, “Want a ride, fella?”
Thinking furiously, he remembered his learned mannerisms. He shrugged his shoulders and then had to admit, “I don’t know.”
And he didn’t. The view was so interesting, he’d forgotten to check his internal map, or worry how far he needed to go. He felt energized as if he could walk around the circumference of the earth before tiring. His DNA was human normal, but his people had evolved talents never heard of on this primitive planet. Talents that worked supremely well on his home planet, filled with the constant and ever presence of God. His whole being depended on and derived from God, as did these earth humans, but he suspected that their link was so tenuous as to be absent much of the time.
“Come on, get in.”
He walked over to the huge, smoking truck, but didn’t know what to do next. The driver had opened the door, but the step was waist high off the ground.
The driver laughed and shook his head. “Red neck kid. Grab hold of that bar to the side to pull yourself up.”
Finally, sitting on the plastic seat and listening to the gears roar as the driver grinded them to get moving again, he looked at his own arms and small body. The driver was right, he’d chosen a young boy’s body for his trip to earth. Would that be a hindrance or a help? He didn’t know. Most people from his paradise world who dared come to earth, never returned to tell the tale.
“I can see you’re in
need of some cash. Tell you what, stick with me kid until we get into
This world also used a primitive form of money exchange. Money is cash? Well, he might need it.
“Sure. I could use some cash.”
“Hey, what’s you name, fella?”
“Tony.” Slipped out of his mouth. For some reason the name he had chosen came back to him easily. “Tony Splenda”
“Sounds like diet sugar. Gotta do better than that kid. Mine’s Jake.”
The driver chuckled, but said nothing further about the name.
Tony thought quickly of how to fix the gaff. Tony S. Pendia. That was the name he’d invented but wasn’t sure what had influenced his choice. His studies didn’t cover everything, mostly out of date television and radio broadcasts. First hand knowledge about earth was slim to absent on his world.
Jake said no more, maybe because he’d turned the radio much louder. They listened to an oldies rock and roll station most of the way into the city. Some of the songs were familiar and he especially liked listening to the rhythm of Johnny Cash. It seemed a pleasant ride for both of them until the news came on. Jake swore when the announcer mentioned the new business tax.
“Damn asses. Take our money to put in their deep pockets.”
Tony didn’t think
he’d mind listening to the current happenings of the day. The announcer told
about a traffic jam on I-94 and 8 Mile, and other local news. One item caught
Tony’s interest because the newspaper folded open on the seat had a huge photo
of the man with the same name written in huge black letters. The announcer
mentioned that Mayor Norm Stevens was still missing after two weeks, but in his
absence, a lot was coming out about his alliance with dirty politics and the
drug trade. Rumor had it that his right hand man was a drug kingpin from
Jake spoke his own
comments. “Damn right. Good riddance to that one.” Jake voice rose in pitch.
“Real bad. A cousin lost his job because of that freak.
Tony didn’t let the displeasure he felt at Jakes language show on his face. He considered it part of his learning experience while on earth, but some of the words stuck into him like sharp needles. The mayor didn’t look bad. Tony glanced down at the newspaper once more, “Mayor Norm Stevens Still Missing” was printed across the top of the page in large black letters. Tony was glad when the news was over and the music came back on, the music beat quickened his pulse and helped him forget the ugliness of lost mayors and traffic jams.
The truck finally entered the city and Tony loved the tall buildings standing against the clear blue sky. Soon they drove down a main thoroughfare and stopped at a Faygo distribution center at Gratiot and Moran.
“Here’s my stop.” Jake said.
Tony helped Jake unload the heavy crates onto the loading deck and took the cash Jake handed out to him. A twenty-dollar bill and a few singles.
“Hope I didn’t take you too far away from where you were going.”
“I don’t think so,
the girl I am looking for lives near
Jake called out to him as he walked away. “Turn left on the next main street and you can’t miss the university.”
“Thank you.” Tony
said and waved good-by. He knew that was customary. He stayed on Moran for a
while, then took a moment to check the map stored in his memory for the
Good, but will I find her before I loose my ability to leave? Why do visitors from my planet never come back? That is one of the questions he hoped to answer. She would be using an unknown name, but he could detect her presence within a five-mile radius if he pushed his mind forward. That might involve picking up too much mind clutter from other people, so for now he was content to just walk forward.
Unexpectedly, he detected a blip to the east on his mental radar. She’s here? Nearby?
That was his last thought before his knees gave way, causing him to fall down on the sidewalk, and then total black out. A bump jarred him awake. He had a severe pain in his head. He groaned and opened his eyes but the darkness was total and he was curled up in a small space. He felt himself slide and hit the side of something as a new bump jarred his body. Knowing he was in danger, the first thing he did was grope for his connection to God and home. It was there, but so faint he could hardly detect it. He panicked. He felt a quiver of fear run down his whole body into his toes now shaking inside his tennis shoes. Nonsense reverberated inside his head making him feel heavy and thick, as if he’d forgotten how to be. His elbows and knees ached from being scrunched up. Body pain he could take. The possible loss of God’s light would be far worse, a light so dim now it was barely detectable.
If he’d had power left, he would have lifted off earth right then, but his mental powers seemed completely blocked. His feeling of dejection and hopelessness seemed a prelude to death, nothing mattered now. His dream of finding his lost sister had died inside the blackness.
He felt a sudden jerk and heard stones slide, then an opening that let in a blare of harsh sunlight that blinded his eyes. Two dark shadows stood in the light’s center. Tony blinked as the two shadows took on solid form and began to pull him out of the dark cave. The two men lifted him to his feet and stood on each side while waiting for Tony to get strength back in his legs.
One man, burly and white haired with deep black skin, said, “Come with us." She wants to meet you.”
Eyes cleared now, he saw that he hadn’t been pulled from a cave but the back end of a black automobile. He was now being led past a perfectly arraigned flower garden set in different colors and a vast sweet smelling green lawn to the front of the largest house he’d ever imagined, up a wide curving flagstone path that wound between pots of flowers that bordered a large porch. He was being led, half carried, by a man holding on to each arm, up the stairs to the porch past tow pillars to a pair of black double doors.
His weak legs could hardly make it up the stone steps, but once there, the men holding him, stopped and the tall blond man with light skin, knocked once then stepped back and waited. They must have been waiting for the buzzer to sound because as soon as it did, the man put his hand on the knob and opened the door.
Inside, they stood in an entranceway of splendidly polished white marble floor with milk white walls. A small carving of a black female nymph on a white pedestal at the side was all that broke the whiteness. Tony saw through a curved archway into a large room filled with modern furniture, again stark white décor with black art pieces set here and there about the room. Everything white except for the grass and flowers that shown through a glass wall that ran the length of the room.
A heavyset women wearing a black dress stepped from the room, nodded, and led the group up a step and onto the large windowed room. Tony’s feet sunk into its thick white carpet. The women told them to be seated, that Mrs. Evelyn would be with them shortly.
The two men stayed standing but directed Tony to sit down on the white couch. He did and busied himself by looking at the various art forms scattered around the room, at the shiny, black baby grand piano in one corner the room, and then out at the trees and flowers beyond the window. He felt perplexed as to what he was doing here. He cringed at the sharp pain that still filled his head. He felt boxed in, helpless and doubly blinded by the severe stabs of pain and the dark aura of earth.
A tall women glided into the room on dainty feet wearing a long, gown that shimmered in red and gold. She had shinny black hair that hung down to her shoulders framing an angled face that exuded beauty. She stopped and stood directly in front of Tony. Her eyes stared at him, into him, hard like black ice. He cringed beneath her steady glare.
She suddenly spoke to the two men still standing as if at attention next to the couch. Tony noticed that like the women they first met, the men wore black suits as if to match the art forms in the stark white room.
“I want to speak to this man alone, but stay close by.” She told them.
When they had left the room, she spoke four words from his home world, and he was sure she was no mere human.
“What is your place?”
His surprise must have showed on his face.
She smiled in a grimace, then said, “We will speak English from now on. That speech was just to let you know that I know what you are and where you come from. What I want to know is why.”
She had certainly caught him off guard. Should he ask a question? Beg for his life? He wasn’t sure how to conduct himself, so he stayed quiet. Could this be his sister? The young girl he had played and romped over meadows with? His sister who dared come to earth? If so, she would be disguised in a new body for the same reason he had invented a body to ware. All these questions ran through his mind as fast as fire on the wind but still throbbing with pain, he couldn’t seem to reach a conclusion. His usually sharp mind refused to function correctly. Perhaps that should be his first question.
“What is wrong with my head?” he asked her as she turned and sat in the white chair set at an angle facing the couch, for conversations such as this?
“I am what is wrong with your mind.”
“Then you are an angel who has not lost ability? You still feel God?”
At his question, she frowned. He thought he detected a flash of pain in her eyes.
“I don’t always invite stray angels into my home. We do damage control in order to protect the earth system. Most of the angels we detect are from the Blinded Eye Constellation. You are not. I determined this right away from your mental energy. So I ask again who you are and I expect a good answer, or your fate will go the way of the other angels.”
He couldn’t help asking, “What was their fate?”
“Death.”
Her beautiful face smiled at his discomforted reaction to her words, but her eyes stayed hard. “You have not answered my question. Who are you?”
Quickly, because the pain seemed to get more intense with every minute, he said, “I can tell you who I am by telling you who you are.”
It had been a calculated guess, pure and simple, but he must have hit a nerve of truth because her reaction was to jerk her head to the side. As she did so, her dark hair flowed around her face like a dark ocean wave.
“Who am I then?”
Tony bent forward slightly as he spoke. “Eeryem,” he whispered, “My sister.”
She sat statue still at his words, a piece of marble goddess carved into stone. The window light shined on a sparkle in her eye. Was that a tear threatening to roll down that frozen cheek?
After a long minute, she said, “Why have you come?” She looked him full face. The tear, if that’s what it was, now gone.
Her question was as hard and icy as her eyes and hurt his sense of balance. He couldn’t understand this change in her. This wasn’t the sister with the happy laughter he’d come looking for, this women was steel, forged and shaped…by what? He felt frightened of her, for her, and could not speak from the hurt in his heart.
As if she could see into his heart, she turned her face away to look towards the windows. Both of them remained silent for a long while. Tony because he’d reached the end of his faith in their shared past. She because of what?
She spoke first. “You don’t understand.”
His continued silence piqued her into further speech. “Your image of me is simple just like the disguise you put on to visit earth, young, ignorant, and naive.”
“Please help me understand,” he lowered his voice and whispered her endearing name once more, “Eeryem.”
It was her private name they had bound to each other as children. His name from her had been Oeryem. Both words defined small, fuzzy animals on their home world.
At the repeated name, she jumped up from the chair and began to pace back and forth across the rich carpet in front of the tall window wall.
He watched her nervous walk grow more uncertain. The smooth glide with which she’d first entered the room was now gone. Her face also had slackened and now showed the riggers of earth life in its curves and hallows. A glare of green shadow from the reflected glass tinged her features and made her look sick, as if the sun had passed on by and ignored her.
He shook his head to clear it of the shadow image.
“If I decide to help you understand, that body you took on as temporary dress could become your fate forever. The information I would give you might bind you to earth so tightly you could never leave.” Her voice took on a high, angry tone, “Do you understand?”
He cocked his head in agonized thought, agonized, because she hadn’t stopped her attack on his mind yet. Had earth destroyed hers? Made her, he groped for the earth term—nuts? Another word came to mind as well—crazy?
“I am not crazy.” She said, as if he had spoken out loud.
Her eyes glared in a daring pose as her face smirked, “I will show you.”
She walked to the wall and pushed a buzzer that sounded with a low twang. The two men who had brought him to the house came into the room as if they had been waiting for her call.
“We have a new recruit,” she said to them. “Use kid gloves, but show him the chamber. Then bring him back to me.”
Tony followed the two men through the house and then down a long narrow, twisting flight of enclosed stairs. The black man, Horace, he said his name was, lead the way, and the taller, blond man, Lance followed behind Tony. It was a long way down past five landings before they reached the bottom. There they confronted a steel door that Horace began to unlatch. It took a while. Tony counted five hasp latches and three key holes in this single, door.
Finally, the door slid open rolling into the wall on smooth, soundless tracks. Five feet away, another steel door blocked their way. Only two keys opened this one, and once opened, a dank dimness flowed out from the opening’s depths along with a soft eerie howl that turned Tony’s skin to goose bumps.
Horace went to a sidewall where ten eyeglasses incased in black rubber were hanging. He grabbed three pairs and handed one to Tony.
“Here, take this pair.” He hesitated then added, “She said to treat you nice.”
Tony thanked his God, even though he couldn’t make contact at the moment, that he was being treated nice. He assumed these were nighttime goggles, but he must have been only half-right because Horace added with an uninviting chuckle, “Yours blocks most of the meaner stuff out.”
Lance smirked at this as he put his own goggles on, the rubber fitting tight to his head. Tony put his own goggles on. They fit smug and blocked most of the light. The room further in was filled with a dim red glow. Perhaps the glasses or maybe not? When they walked inside, Tony saw a long red corridor with a series of cages running down its length like in a penitentiary.
“You’re lucky. Only one of them here today.” Lance, the taciturn one, said.
It was the first time Tony had heard his voice.
Horace busied himself closing and locking the last door they’d entered, as he’d done each time, before he leading them further into the dungeon. They came to a line of cages at the end of the corridor and this time, Horace took out an electronic button of some kind and pushed it.
The door slid open on silent wheels and Lance pushed at Tony to follow Horace inside the room and then turn to the right to another locked door. As soon as this door was opened, the glair of multi lights that hit Tony’s eyes from the room was almost more than he could stand, even wearing the glasses that he supposed were meant to block the light out. A rainbow danced in mesmerizing patterns and filled every part of the room but centered on the lighted form of a man. Through the multi light, Tony saw that the man, if that is what he was, had colorful ruffles running down the length of its body as if a million butterflies had landed there. It was these multiple ripples that gave off the rainbow lights.
The man who laughed was the most beautiful being Tony had ever seen. He began to cry for this beautiful being who he suddenly noticed was chained to a wall by steel straps. Tony held out his hands in a helpless gesture, as if to show the person he shared his pain. He stepped toward the beautiful form to unhinge the chains and straps.
Lance grabbed hold of Tony before he could take the next step and pulled his arms behind his back, then tied them together with something so strong it bit into his wrists. The hurt in Tony’s arms was nothing compared to the torture he felt looking at this beautiful form chained down and affixed to a steel slab. He sobbed in his need to end the being’s suffering.
“Dumb ass.” Horace said with anger. “If it weren’t for them glasses, you’d be kneeling on the floor right now peeing your pants in worship.”
He then flicked a switch on the wall, a lightening spark struck out at the rainbow being, which dimmed the glow for a long moment. At the sight of such torture, Tony screamed.
The lightening had made the being change form. It now looked like a large, plump, ugly human, a human with a recognizable face. The missing mayor. Tony stared transfixed at the person in front of him. The rainbow colors gone, it now stood dark and ugly. Hate seemed to stare out of its eyes. It spoke, “Help me.”
Tony was struck dumb by the change.
“Take him out of here,” Horace said to Lance.
Lance pulled at Tony’s arms from behind until he felt the pain so bad he thought his arms were going to come out of their sockets. He was pulled backwards through the long corridor of dark jail cells until they came out once more to the second steel door and dim room with the hanging goggles. There Lance took off Tony’s goggles and his own and hung them up on the wall, still holding on to Tony’s bound hands.
When Tony began to mumble something about the pain, Lance said, “Shut up. Don’t say another word.” He jerked on Tony’s arms once more. Tony shut up.
They waited in silence for Horace to join them. When he stepped out of the dim redness, he said nothing, just hung up his own goggles, took the keys from a hook and relocked the room’s door, then unlocked and relocked the outer steel door as they left.
Tony breathed a huge sigh of relief to be back in a normal basement environment, and was thankful that he hadn’t been left behind in one of the cages. His face and eyes were still wet with tears. When he looked at Horace and Lance’s eyes, they were dry and as cold as a desert night. Tony shuddered.
They uncuffed his hands before he was brought back up into the soft, warm, sun lit living room. He almost collapsed with relief at the soft carpet that felt like a cloud beneath his feet and the lovely green grass and flowers that shown through the huge window. His body, though, was trembling badly, so badly that his gait was wobbly. The shock of what he’d seen had been so unnerving, he knew that the image and memory of it would be with him for the rest of his life.
He was led to the same white couch and pushed down into its cushions. He felt like a butterfly set back into its display cage, comforted for the moment, but still perched close to danger.
She walked into the room and once more sat in the chair next to the couch. This time a lap top computer sat on the table between them. She turned the screen to face him. As she did, he wondered if the hardness of her eyes had softened just a little. He thought so, but his judgment was tarnished by the trauma that still racked his body.
“Watch.” She commanded.
There in the screen was the beautiful rainbow creature, but not tied down by steel straps. Its glow was dampened by a blue filter as it stood next to a bookcase wall. Tony watched the blue tinted person walk across the room past the bookcase and a stuffed chair towards a large desk. As he watched, it began to change. Its glow dimmed even further as it built up its skin and sinews. Its face began to pull together into a human mask with dark hair and skin and normal but emotionless eyes.
Tony watched the rainbow person become the missing Mayor Norm Stevens on the computer screen. Tony remembered the news announcer saying that some people cried for his loss but many more cried in joy at his absence. At the time, the statement had been inexplicable. Now he saw the mayor wearing business attire, turn and sit behind an ordinary desk. Suddenly, the scene was gone and the screen turned black.
“What you have just seen is an angel from the Blinded Eye Constellation posing as an elected leader on earth. Each one of these monsters is extremely powerful and deceitful. It was they who blackened the Eye Constellation millennia ago. They have great power and will. I must act just as powerful and deceitful as they. We must stop them from turning this whole sector of the Milky Way dark like the Blinded Eye.”
It must have been his look of dumb surprise that prompted her to continue. “Surly, you’ve heard of the Blinded Eye?”
He knew about the Blinded Eye. It was a frightening story that parents refused to allow children to learn about until they came of age. A whole galaxy of stars that had blinked out, one after another. Now that area of space looked like an eye gone blind, hence the name.
“Yes, yes,” he stammered. “But you know we have a barrier net that protects our whole galaxy from such darkness. We hardly acknowledge the Blind Eye’s existence.”
“That makes you little better then these ignorant earth people. Don’t you see what your self serving neglect has done?”
At the venom in her voice, his thoughts jumped to his home world, their home world, and his soft and gentle life. A touch of homesickness rolled through his bones.
“But we have people who work hard to help the people on earth, even if they don’t come here directly. They use their spiritual minds to spread God’s light all the time.”
“Yes, but direct involvement is needed to counter these monsters and their determination to destroy.”
“I think you misunderstand.” He said.
“I think you do.” she answered.
And there it was, the difference stripped bare. He was guilty of a lack of knowledge. He’d always ignored the debates. What did he care? Some said earth was too dangerous to send emissaries. Some said that it was a chance they must take. He’d let it all slip away as he puttered within his own studies and concerns until he’d suddenly missed his sister. Now he was sorry. He should have listened better to the arguments. He hardly knew how to answer her.
Suddenly, the large women dressed in black came back into the room. She was rubbing her hands together in distress as she said in a low voice, “Mrs. Evelyn.”
“Yes, what is it Miranda?”
“Dinner will be 15 minutes late.”
Mrs. Evelyn looked down at the gold watch on her wrist and frowned. “It is Twenty seven minutes past six. You know I like to eat at six thirty. Bring me a sandwich instead.”
“Will your guest be eating with you?”
“No.”
Miranda turned and quickly walked out of the room.
Tony, wondered if he wasn’t going to share dinner what exactly was his fate was to be. He was surprised when Eeryem looked at him and asked, “How is your head?”
He had forgotten his headache, which meant that it was gone. “The headache seems gone.”
“I am no longer holding your mind.”
“I see.” He spoke quietly. “Should I thank you?”
He shook his head as if to clear it because his thinking still felt muddled. In the most forceful voice he could manage, he said, “You are torturing that beautiful being.”
“Do you not see the necessity? Are you still so naive?”
Just then Miranda stepped into the room again with a silver tray holding a sandwich on a plate, a cup, and silver teapot. She set it down and Mrs. Evelyn began to pour tea as if the subject of the torture was now ended.
Tony said, “I feel hurt that you caused that being pain.”
“The lightening did not hurt him as much as you think. The thing is made of stronger stuff then you realize. If it doesn’t convert to our side soon, it will be killed.”
“Do any convert? How will you know?”
“No, none do. And, yes, I would know. I still have many of my talents.”
He had felt her talents and cringed at the use she made of them. He stayed silent as his thoughts churned.
It was her turn to speak. “You are heavier and darker now because of what you have seen here.”
He frowned at the news.
“Tell me,” she added, “Do you feel any connection with God?”
At the question, he jerked his back straight up in the seat. He blinked. Tears came to his eyes. It was true. The connection was gone. Had it been severed by Eeryem or that strange creature or the dark aura of the earth system. He could not give voice to answer her.
She pressed a buzzer that called Horace and Lance back into the room. With a hand motion, they stopped and stood at attention awaiting her orders. She turned and spoke to Tony.
“We have grown into a vast organization that is very rich and powerful. On this earth, money and power is a necessity. How else would we have the resources to kidnap such a powerful person as the mayor of a major city and that monster hiding within? I tell you this because we will make a place for you among us.”
She must have seen the look of horror on his face because she added, “You will not need to help with the torture. Most of our business is legal. We will find a spot for you.”
She motioned with her hand to the men and said, “Take him to one of the apartments while I think about what work will fit him best”.
Shrunken in spirit, he stood to follow Horace and Lance.
She called to him as he was leaving the room, “Did you think to bring identification?”
He nodded, “Yes.” As he said this, he put his hand on his jean pocket to pull the identification out and felt a small square box. Momentarily puzzled, he pulled out the box and opened it. Lying in the white cardboard were three left over pieces of the coated gum he’d brought with him to earth.
Quickly, he popped two pieces into his mouth and began chewing. Every juicy bite brought more light into his mind. Even the room brightened as if more sunshine had suddenly flowed through the glass, but more than that, his whole body began to feel lighter. Once more he was in touch with God and felt vividly alive. His heart almost burst with unbounded joy. He looked at his lost sister, with sorrow.
He held out the box to her. “This gum brings back the light. I offer it to you.”
He could see by the look on her face that she knew he was no longer heavy or dark, that he was once more an angel of light.
She looked at the box hungrily, so it seemed. So he took the last piece of coated gum out of the box and held it out to her.
“No,” she said. “I don’t want it. My work is here.”
His heart felt saddened at her loss. Rather than deprive her of the gum forever, he dropped it into a small, decorative glass dish on the table. It rang like the tinkle of a bell as it fell inside the dish.
As the bell tinkled, Tony took a step into an invisible tunnel that lifted into the sky, a passage of love that led away from the darkness of earth. Tony’s mind gloried in this escape route, a route that any angel could use who hadn’t come to resemble the enemy. His second step took him out of the tunnel and back to his own light filled planet.
The end
Jesus and the angels are busy at work in today’s world, but even with their vast numbers, it is not enough. They need our assistance. We are all called to help the angels. If the most we know how to do is put a smile on another person’s face, that is fine. If we have learned how to meditate, then our understanding of peace and self-confidence will automatically spread to other people. If we have learned how to climb up to God’s golden, mountain peak, we have already learned how to share God’s healing light with other people, because after receiving God’s light-energy, we burst with the need to share it.
We are all on a learning curve. Many of us already help other people however we can by physical means and mental. Our empathy compels us to heal the distress we find in others. Remember, Jesus is ever present, and along with the angels, regularly shows each of us how to take the next step towards God. I wish you well on your journey.
If you have questions, you can contact me at: diane@dianemarietaylor or go to my web page: www.dianemarietaylor.com