The Angels by Spiritual Echo Through the eyes of a child writing prompt entry |
"Papa, are you dead yet?"
'No, I'm not, but soon." "Papa, can we go fishing?" The old man raised an eyebrow and squinted at the little boy standing beside his bed. "Does your Mama know you are in here with the smelly old carcass?" "What's a carcass Papa?" "Where's your Mama? You go find her now." "No, Papa I want to go fishing with you. I promise if you get better I'll even put the worms on the hook. Papa, I promise. Please, Papa, please get out of bed." "Not today, little man, not today." "Papa," the little boy wailed. "You can't die without me." And the old man shifted slightly and tried to smile at the sentinel who stood watch over his final moments. "Okay, little man. Crawl in beside me and hold my hand. Maybe you will get a glimpse of heaven when the angels come to take me away." His voice was barely a whisper and the strength to relinquish life was compromised by the little hands that wove memories through his fingertips, but finally, still hoping to spare the child, grandpa slipped into eternity. And there the child slept, in his grandfather's embrace, as the angels blessed the boy and released the old man.
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Spiritual Echo
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