CHAPTER THREE
"You don't need to be afraid," Philip answered. "Once you have saved Max, and your task is complete, you will spend eternity as an Adored One."
"So, I'll be whisked away, up through the Pearly Gates to float around?"
"Something like that," the dark angel laughed. "There are no gates, though. Just peace."
I tried to think of the place where my father had gone. "What's it like? Heaven, I mean."
Michael beamed. "Words cannot describe it! Imagination cannot render a likeness of its beauty. A million hearts could not contain the love and happiness that flows in God's presence."
"Wow," was the only thing I could think to say.
Philip smiled. "That's what everyone says. But it's time to start your journey, are you ready?"
"Now?" I asked. "But, I don't know what to do. Is there a manual or something?"
Michael put a hand on my arm. "No, no manual. However, you can look to God for guidance, and we will assist you as we can. Use your heart and your mind and you will succeed." They both stood and turned. The light started to fade behind them.
"No, wait! I still don't know what to do!" My head began to throb as my vision dulled. I staggered up and reached out toward the light and dark clouds, but they slipped through my fingers like smoke.
"So, I'll be whisked away, up through the Pearly Gates to float around?"
"Something like that," the dark angel laughed. "There are no gates, though. Just peace."
I tried to think of the place where my father had gone. "What's it like? Heaven, I mean."
Michael beamed. "Words cannot describe it! Imagination cannot render a likeness of its beauty. A million hearts could not contain the love and happiness that flows in God's presence."
"Wow," was the only thing I could think to say.
Philip smiled. "That's what everyone says. But it's time to start your journey, are you ready?"
"Now?" I asked. "But, I don't know what to do. Is there a manual or something?"
Michael put a hand on my arm. "No, no manual. However, you can look to God for guidance, and we will assist you as we can. Use your heart and your mind and you will succeed." They both stood and turned. The light started to fade behind them.
"No, wait! I still don't know what to do!" My head began to throb as my vision dulled. I staggered up and reached out toward the light and dark clouds, but they slipped through my fingers like smoke.
********************
"Trace? Trace Worthy! It's time to get up!"
A beam of light from a split in the curtains felt like it was burning a hole in my forehead. I groaned and flipped over, but instead of my luxurious, king-sized, pillow-top mattress lulling me back to sleep, I rolled off the edge of a hard twin-sized bed and hit the floor with a thump.
Slowly, I sat up and rubbed my hand over my head. When I felt the collar length strands slip through my fingers, I gasped. I distinctly remembered having been to the stylist for my usual men's business cut a few weeks ago. "What the hell?"
"I really wish you wouldn't swear," came a quiet voice behind me. I spun around to see two men standing near my door. But we weren't in my obnoxiously large bedroom in my condo. We were in my childhood bedroom: cramped, clothes strewn over every surface and reeking of teenage boy. I burrowed my knuckles into my eyeballs, trying to wake myself up, but when I open my lids and my vision cleared, I was still in the tiny room in my parents' house.
"No way," I whispered. I noticed my voice seemed different. A little higher in pitch maybe.
One of the men spoke to me. He seemed so familiar, yet I couldn't quite place him. He said, "Listen to me carefully, Trace. When I touch your hand, you will remember what has happened."
He held out a hand and I took it warily. A momentary blinding headache knocked me backward, and then it dawned on me why I was now eighteen years old. I looked at the man whose hand I had touched. "You know, Philip, I really could have done without that shock."
The heavenly being chuckled. "It takes a little work to rewind the clock, you know. But now that you're up, get ready for school. Your mother will be up in a few minutes to wake you. Have fun on your first day back."
"Wait, am I going to remember what happened yesterday at school? If I don't know what's going on, they'll all think I'm nuts."
"It's all taken care of," Michael said. "Just remember, you need to make contact with Max today."
And just like that, they were gone. Seconds later there was a knock on my door. It opened slowly and my mother peeked in. "Oh! You're up."
"Yeah," I replied. "Can I have a laundry basket please? This room is a mess."
"Um…sure." She looked at me like I'd gone insane. In a few moments she returned and handed me the plastic basket. As I collected all of the laundry scattered over every surface of the room while she stood in the doorway, staring. When I excused myself and carried the clothes into the laundry room at the end of the hall, she asked, "Are you feeling all right, Trace?"
For a dead guy? Great.
"Never better," I replied with a forced smile. "Is…uh, Dad home this morning?" I was desperate to see my father, who I hadn't seen since he died from cancer almost twenty years before.
"Of course not," she laughed. "He always leaves before you get up. Are you sure you're okay? It's just that I've never seen you doing laundry."
I paused in my sorting and gave myself a mental nudge. I had to remember to act like a teenage boy. Damn. I said, "Well, I figure that I'm going off to college next fall. I may as well get used to doing laundry the right way. Not like you're going to be coming with me."
Mom shrugged and said, "Well, thanks. It'll be a great help." I emptied the basket into the bin, kissed my mother on the forehead, and then went back to prepare for high school.
Heaven help me.
A beam of light from a split in the curtains felt like it was burning a hole in my forehead. I groaned and flipped over, but instead of my luxurious, king-sized, pillow-top mattress lulling me back to sleep, I rolled off the edge of a hard twin-sized bed and hit the floor with a thump.
Slowly, I sat up and rubbed my hand over my head. When I felt the collar length strands slip through my fingers, I gasped. I distinctly remembered having been to the stylist for my usual men's business cut a few weeks ago. "What the hell?"
"I really wish you wouldn't swear," came a quiet voice behind me. I spun around to see two men standing near my door. But we weren't in my obnoxiously large bedroom in my condo. We were in my childhood bedroom: cramped, clothes strewn over every surface and reeking of teenage boy. I burrowed my knuckles into my eyeballs, trying to wake myself up, but when I open my lids and my vision cleared, I was still in the tiny room in my parents' house.
"No way," I whispered. I noticed my voice seemed different. A little higher in pitch maybe.
One of the men spoke to me. He seemed so familiar, yet I couldn't quite place him. He said, "Listen to me carefully, Trace. When I touch your hand, you will remember what has happened."
He held out a hand and I took it warily. A momentary blinding headache knocked me backward, and then it dawned on me why I was now eighteen years old. I looked at the man whose hand I had touched. "You know, Philip, I really could have done without that shock."
The heavenly being chuckled. "It takes a little work to rewind the clock, you know. But now that you're up, get ready for school. Your mother will be up in a few minutes to wake you. Have fun on your first day back."
"Wait, am I going to remember what happened yesterday at school? If I don't know what's going on, they'll all think I'm nuts."
"It's all taken care of," Michael said. "Just remember, you need to make contact with Max today."
And just like that, they were gone. Seconds later there was a knock on my door. It opened slowly and my mother peeked in. "Oh! You're up."
"Yeah," I replied. "Can I have a laundry basket please? This room is a mess."
"Um…sure." She looked at me like I'd gone insane. In a few moments she returned and handed me the plastic basket. As I collected all of the laundry scattered over every surface of the room while she stood in the doorway, staring. When I excused myself and carried the clothes into the laundry room at the end of the hall, she asked, "Are you feeling all right, Trace?"
For a dead guy? Great.
"Never better," I replied with a forced smile. "Is…uh, Dad home this morning?" I was desperate to see my father, who I hadn't seen since he died from cancer almost twenty years before.
"Of course not," she laughed. "He always leaves before you get up. Are you sure you're okay? It's just that I've never seen you doing laundry."
I paused in my sorting and gave myself a mental nudge. I had to remember to act like a teenage boy. Damn. I said, "Well, I figure that I'm going off to college next fall. I may as well get used to doing laundry the right way. Not like you're going to be coming with me."
Mom shrugged and said, "Well, thanks. It'll be a great help." I emptied the basket into the bin, kissed my mother on the forehead, and then went back to prepare for high school.
Heaven help me.
****************************************
Don't forget to visit the other flashers!
Carol Pedroso
Cia Nordwell
Jon Keys
Julie Lynn Hayes
Mann Ramblings
Nephy Hart
Ravon Silvius
Taylin Clavelli
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