Watching Kyra tend to the German shepherd’s injured paw with such love and devotion, as if it was her own child rather than the pet of a loud mouthed elderly lady that constantly criticized her, made me truly hate my job. In three and a half minutes a doped up seventeen year old was going to kick the front door in and shoot her twice in the chest, then stand over her dead body while he rummaged through the cupboards for drugs.
And what could I do about it? Not a damn thing. My only purpose for being here was to guide her benevolent soul to its final destination. Well, technically I could incinerate the bastard before he ever stepped foot inside the clinic—as an Archangel I had the power of God’s wrath at my fingertips—but meddling with destiny was a good way to end up on the wrong end of a lightning bolt from the big guy.
It wasn’t until Kyra shrieked and stumbled frantically away from me that I realized I’d assumed corporal form. Crap.
"Ma'am," I began, hands instinctively raising from my pockets in what I hoped was a calming gesture to her. I was inches from explaining away the sciences that be in any perverted fashion that would convince her I had not just conjured myself into the middle of the room when a crash from behind had her scrambling from the table she had been working on, German shepherd in tow. I was once again invisible to the naked eye and she was curled in the corner, dog half-shielded behind her slight shoulder, and not seconds later, the teen was nudging her limp body out of the way with the toe of his boot. The dog barked twice before succumbing to the same fate.
ReplyDeleteBut from where I stood, she was also stumbling away from her own body, the German shepherd clambering up excitedly behind her, and at this point, I found no use for formalities.
"Kyra?"
She ignored me until she realized that she could not step over the threshold. She hit it like a wall, pushing against it as though what had stopped her before would merely step to the side and let her through in subsequent trials.
"Kyra, please."
Whirling to face me: "What did you do?"
In one passing, awkward second I realized that this was one of those fortunate cases in which she, at least, knew she was dead. The dog barked at her heel.
"I'm here to escort you to the other side."
"Other side?"
"Ma'am, what do you believe in?"
She snarls as if I've been sent unprepared, crying out in her hurt and confused voice, "I believe in God."
"Well, He's waiting for you."
"What about Prince?"
"Got a leash?" I smile, trying to get her to relax, but nobody ever does. Nobody I'm assigned to, anyways.
Nice Ellen! Your writing is engaging and descriptive, and I love where you took the story. Great job!!
DeleteThank you so much for participating :) Please let any friends that may be interested know about this segment, and let's do it again next week!!
For sure (:
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