Friday, February 24, 2012

~ Heather ~ StrangeLittleStories

I can’t remember being a child, going through puberty or even turning 21.  As far as I can remember, I’ve always been the same age, whatever age that is. After many confusing years, I finally came to an understanding that I wasn’t mortal. I’m not exactly sure what I am. Some would call me a ghost. Some would call me a lost soul. Some would call me a spirit or angel. I call myself a guide.

     Children can see me sometimes. Animals always sense my presence. Adults, especially the skeptic kind, ignore me or can’t see me. The only time I can be definitely seen by anyone is on All Hallows Eve, most like to refer that particular day of the year as Halloween. That’s also when I see others like me. And the other time anyone can see me is at their death.

     I have no idea if I was ever mortal. I have no memories of life whatsoever. The only time I can actually talk to a mortal is either at their death or when certain people try to contact the spirit world. I’m not even sure how I got my name. It’s just a name that came to me. There’s no middle name or last name. I wear the same clothes and my hair never grows any longer than it is.

     Tonight, I am sitting here next to a hospital bed of a dying child. This poor little girl has cancer and is afraid to die. Her parents are sitting here as well. I know she can see me because she keeps looking over at me.

It’s okay to let go, honey.

But I don’t want to leave my mommy and daddy and baby brother
I know you don’t, Angel.

How did you know my name?

I’m not sure, I just know it.

Why are you here? Who are you?

My name is Heather and I’m here to guide you.

Where will I be going?

Angel, wherever you are about to go to will be lovely. You’ll have many friends to play with and you won’t be in any pain. You’ll have your beautiful hair back and won’t look sickly
Is that where you live?

No, Angel. I exist in this world so I can help you and others get by the fear of leaving.

Have you ever been to the place I’m going to go to? Is God real?

Someday I will get to go where you’re going. But not until I’m ready. I also don’t know if God is real. I’ve never seen him. I’ve never seen Jesus. I walk alone.


I’m not sure why.

     Angel’s mother gets up from the chair she is sitting in and stretches. She tells Angel’s father that she is going to go get something to drink. He tells her okay. She leans over and gives Angel a kiss. Angel can’t kiss her back. She’s unresponsive.

Why can’t I talk to my mommy and daddy? Why can’t I move?

Because, Angel, you’re dying. To them, you look like you’re sleeping. To me, I see a beautiful little girl with long brown hair.

How come you see me like that?

Because my dear, you’re spirit is leaving your mortal body.

Oh. When will it be time to go?


I don’t hurt anymore.

I know you don’t. When it’s time, take my hand and I will take you to the place that I told you about.

Will I ever see you again?

I wish I knew. I’m here for a reason. I’ve been helping those like you for a long time. Perhaps someday I will be able to join you and all the others that I’ve helped.

I want you to come with me.

You do? Why is that?

Because you’re my friend. I want to be with you.

      I think about what Angel said. Maybe I can go along with her. Maybe she is the last.

     Angel’s mother comes back into the hospital room. She sits back down in the chair she had been sitting in before. Suddenly, she looks scared. She asks her husband if he can see a white light in the corner of the room. He looks right in my direction, begins crying, and nods his head.

It’s time, Angel.

     Angel’s monitors start beeping, alerting the nurses at the nurses station. Her mother stares up at the heart monitor and starts crying.

Take my hand, Angel.

“I love you, baby!” cries Angel’s mother as she grabs her daughter’s small hand.

      Her father stands up and approaches the bed and kisses his daughter on the cheek. He looks right into my eyes and smiles.

“Please take good care of our little Angel, whoever you are.”

     For the first time, I cry. This is it. I am not only Angel’s guide, but she is my guide. We will cross that path and go to the beautiful place.

     “I will.” I say to them. They hear me. They see me. They know their daughter is in good hands. I know I’m in good hands.

Come on Angel, let’s go to that beautiful place together.

Author notes

This short story is inspired by Tori Amos' "Time" character.

copyright © Karen Elizabeth Waters 2012

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