Excerpts
Soul of An Angel
By Ellen Margret
Their embrace was a fusion of divine energy—powerful, deep and
intense. It was the embrace of two angelic beings, two divine souls
that had been together for eons. They had walked the same path for
longer than a mere human could ever begin to comprehend. Side by
side, over tens of thousands of years, they had watched over and
aided those upon the earthly plane, and in the process, they had
grown closer and closer. Soul mates were not exclusive to the human
spirit, for two angelic souls could be held together by a bond
unimaginably strong and unyielding, a bond held tight by the very
forces of the universe. Theirs was a pure love, a love that could
never die and a love that would continue to grow for all of
eternity.
Which was why Virgil had serious doubts about Zelina undertaking the
mission.
“You are still resolute?”
“I
am.” She still felt bathed in his divine energy. It always gave her
strength, and she knew she would need that energy in abundance.
“There are others willing to do it.”
“I
know, but it is my desire to be the first. A hard task it may prove
to be, but it is one that I shall not shirk from. I will succeed,
Virgil, and I know that you will never be far away from me.”
“You know that now, Zelina, but you will not very soon. Your
memories of life with me up here in the spheres will be erased
temporarily. Likely you will feel quite alone, and that will make
you feel anxious and sad.”
“A
lifetime is but one beat of a butterfly’s wings, and it will be over
in a flash. Virgil, you know as well as I that what we are about to
embark upon is hugely important.”
“Evolution is about to take a massive leap.”
“Yes, because now the time is right. We can delay no longer, for the
Creator will see his new plan implemented. Well, I think that I am
quite ready.”
Virgil folded his pulsating winged aura about her. This, he knew,
would be their final angelic embrace for quite some time.
* * * *
Lena Jones entered the world on the fifteen of October 1983. She
was born at home in her parents’ bedroom, her wailing screams
partially drowned out by the sounds of Rock and Roll blasting out
from the speakers of the old record player in the corner. Indeed,
the music only ceased when the midwife laid the gurgling little babe
into her crib and hurriedly left after receiving the phone call to
tell her that the butcher’s wife had gone into labour three weeks
early. The last time she had delivered the butcher a healthy son,
the man gave her a leg of lamb and a side of pork. She had no
intention of keeping the butcher’s wife waiting.
“Just look at her,
Wendy,” Sefton Jones said, grinning from ear to ear. “She’s all
chubby cheeks, blue eyes and dimples. She’s just glowing. When Susie
was born, she looked nothing like this. She had a screwed up face
just like an old man.”
“Ah, but she
improved with age. She’s a pretty toddler now. But I must admit that
our Lena is most certainly very beautiful,” his wife said, stroking
the babe’s golden hair. “She reminds me of one of those cherubs on
the pillars in the local church.”
“Yes, you’re right. She really does.
She’s my little angel,” Sefton declared, brimming with pride.
“She’s our little angel.”
“I
wonder what she’ll be when she grows up.”
Wendy smiled serenely. “I suspect all new parents ask that
question.”
“And I imagine that they all think that their precious little bundle
will grow up to become a doctor or a teacher.”
“Or
marry one.”
“Well, it remains to be seen, and that is a long way away. For now,
I’m just happy that our little Lena is healthy,” Sefton said,
staring down at his daughter, his eyes unashamedly misty.
“You know, I think that she will do great things with her life,”
Wendy declared. “We will be so proud of her, Sefton.”
“That we will,” he agreed, not doubting it for a second.
* * * *
The Other Side
of the Cloud
By Elizabeth
Eden
“Damn,” Wendy Matheson picked up the clean towel she dropped on the
ground. Her mutters made the birds flap in the bush nearby and
eventually fly away, apparently tired of her complaining. “Johnny is
gone ‘til Christmas. Trey works all the time.” She thrust one more
clothespin forcefully on the towel to make sure it didn’t fall
again. “And now the dryer is on the blink.” Wiping sweat off her
forehead, she also managed to wipe away a tear of frustration and
loneliness. With her only child at college and her husband working
impossibly long hours for some reason, she was alone and annoyed.
Late spring’s soft breeze had given way in the last few days to the
first sweltering heat of a coastal summer where humidity tended to
wrap a body in invisible wool—wet wool. Stately oaks surrounded the
family country home and dotted the acreage as far as the eyes could
see. Harsh sunlight reflected off the pond not fifty feet away. The
steel gray clouds of winter and the persistent whiter lighter clouds
of spring had given way to a merciless blue sky free of all clouds
but one.
Wendy shaded her eyes
with one damp hand and glared at the innocent cloud hanging
overhead; it was not positioned well enough to protect her from the
sun. She wanted to shake a fist at it ala Scarlet O’Hara in Gone
With the Wind but knew that was a silly gesture. “I bet some
angel is sitting up there on that cloud, strumming his harp and
fluffing his wings with nothing more to do than float around the
skies all day. I wonder what it’s like…being in heaven.” She blew a
loose strand of hair out of her face. “The other side of that cloud
has to be better than this.” Her hand dropped, and she
sighed, her whole body slumping in depression.
Some instinct made her
turn at that moment, and she jumped back six feet. A man stood right
behind her! A large man, at that.
Hands in the pockets of his jeans, black hair ruffled by the
temperamental hot breeze, cowboy shirt tucked into slim faded denims
and sporting dusty boots, he could have been harmless as a baby; but
the fact that he stood that close to her, when no one had been
within eyesight seconds earlier, scared the stuffings out of Wendy.
Her hand went to her
heart, which pounded something fierce, and sweat rolled down her
temples while her mouth went dry. No one would hear her scream if
this man meant her harm. Her deep brown curly ponytail slapped her
in the face as she whipped her head first one way then the other,
looking for help. Slowly she backed up, prepared to run if the man
made one move.
Slowly he pulled his
hands out of his pockets and spread them wide at his side. He raised
his head until he looked her straight in the eyes. But he moved no
closer, nor did he speak.
His blue eyes seemed
to beg for her understanding, her compassion. Wendy thought in one
second that he looked familiar, perhaps a lot like Trey, the way he
looked right after a shower, coming to her to make love. Powerful
but giving. Strong but gentle. In the next second, she could have
sworn his face blurred, and she no longer recognized the image of
the man she loved. No matter how hard she tried, she could not seem
to get a fix on what this man looked like exactly.
“I was told I’d find you by the water.” His deep rumbly voice seemed
to roll up out of the man’s barrel chest and float over the airwaves
between them as he nodded toward the pond. “That seems to be a
favorite meeting place for beings such as me. The messenger/guardian
type.”
His voice mesmerized Wendy. At once her fears
calmed, and she wondered in that idle sort of way when danger is
imminent if she faced peril or just adventure…
*
* * *
Angel Two Down
By Jane Carver
“Angel Two down.” Rebecca ignored the
inferno that blazed behind her, the killing heat not a concern. Her
call went out and up, asking for help in a situation she did not
recognize. Why was she suddenly in a burning building, barefoot and
wearing a simple flowing white cotton gown? “Angel Two down,” she
repeated, but neither heavenly voice answered nor angelic help
arrive.
The crackle of wood
being consumed by heat beyond its flash point got her attention.
With no help in sight, she would have to find a human way of
escaping this disaster. An eternal being incapable of dying,
nevertheless she moved forward, seeking an exit.
As a guardian angel
she moved from one assignment to another. Assignments often took a
number of human years to complete. Given no information about this
latest task, she could only assumed she was there to protect and
direct.
“If no one answers my
Mayday call then this must be my newest assignment.” She talked
aloud, a habit that she had yet to break and fellow angels found
annoying. Once she resigned herself to being dumped rather
unceremoniously and without instructions into the present mess, she
accepted the fact too that within a short matter of moments her
heavenly memory would fade, and she would become for all intents and
purposes a human…or as near to one as possible.
A rafter timber
snapped not far behind her and fell with a thunderous crash, adding
to the cacophony of sounds, tinkle of glass shattering and falling
like deadly snowflakes, the popping of wooden joints as they
expanded and caught fire, the roar the flames made as they consumed
walls, ceiling and floor.
In fact, flames were
closing in on her heels at that moment. Her situation was desperate
now. Her angelic memory would fade soon, but two things she would
unconsciously remember: she was there to protect, and she was there
to uncover the truth.
An open window, its
glass blown out, beckoned her. Looking over her shoulder, she saw
that the room was engulfed in orange and red flames. As she reached
for the window frame, her memory began to fade; she scanned the
heavens, each radiant star real and personal to her. One hand crept
to her breast. The other clutched the frame as heat scorched her
back. She had to live! Staying here was not an option if she were to
carry out her assignment. The sweat from human-like fear and deadly
heat popped out on her face and wet her palms. Stepping onto the low
windowsill, she saw the lights of flood lamps below, the lights of
those who could save her.
Wind blew in then out, its movements wild,
twisted. Rebecca’s loose raven-black hair whipped around her face,
her tentative hold on the wooden frame almost no match for the
whirlwinds created by the fire inching closer. Sounds of chaos and
fury surrounded her. Acid smoke burned her nose, made her eyes
water.
The building burned with speed and ferocity
around her. Flames danced closer, hotter and hotter, nearer than
seconds before. Rebecca heard the fire’s unholy roar, felt the heat
on her back and sensed the almost passionate rush of unbridled
flames racing to devour her.
* * * *
Outside the Freemont Fabric Company
warehouse, fireman Jake Pruitt cinched the air tank’s belt tighter
around his waist. His fellow firefighter, Dennis Bolen, had the
ladder up and positioned against the window on the third floor.
“You still see her, Jake?” Dennis had to
yell over the noise of sirens, water hissing as it hit flames and
thundered as it rebounded off brick walls.
Jake put a hand to his face to cut the glare
of the lights and brilliance of the fire. “I think there’s a woman
at that window. And with the way the fire is glowing behind her, I’d
say I’ve just about got time to get her before it blows.”
Dennis nodded and gave him a hard tap on the
shoulder, the signal that all was ready for him to begin his climb.
Like a monkey, Jake hit the rungs, shuffling
up the swaying ladder as fast as he could, considering he carried
almost eighty pounds of bunker gear and equipment. At the best of
times, winds created by the fire’s suction moved the ladder even
though those on the ground weren’t always aware of it. But the winds
at the moment were upward of twenty miles an hour. As far as Jake
was concerned, the forecasted rain could not get there fast enough.
But he could live without the howling wind.
Only seventy percent sure that what he saw
in the window from ground level was a woman, the closer he got, the
easier it was to make out a woman with long black hair wearing a
white gown of some kind.
“What the hell are you
doing here at this time of night?” He spoke aloud to her though she
could not hear him. Jake had to give the lady credit though.
“Whoever you are, you’re one cool customer.” She hadn’t panicked or
tried to jump. Yet. Nor was she yelling at him to hurry
Jake put on an extra burst of speed.
Steam heat poured out of windows as he past. Superheated vapors that
could scald flesh seemed to reach out, vapors reached for his face
with scorching fingers. His Plexiglass mask kept the worst of the
heat at bay. Would she panic when she saw the mask?
* * *
*
PDF Ebook  HTML Ebook
PRINT
|
