A Story by Jason


Only seven years old. I thought to myself- seven years old and death stares you in the face. I was sitting beside my son’s hospital bed. We were waiting for a kidney transplant. He has what the doctors call ‘end stage renal disease’ or ESRD, in stage four, of five. He has been on the donor’s list now for 9 months. My only son, braver than I; and seemingly less frightened. But time was dwindling. My fear grew stronger and my heart grew heavier with every hour. I was at the brink of despair, trying to hold it together for the sake of myself, and for my son. I was told that once stage 5 came, it wouldn’t be too long after that. Yet my son looked at me, a frail child, the look of death on his skin, but his eyes were still very much full of life. He said to me “Will I get to see mommy soon?”. I smiled as a tear crept near the edge of my eyelid. I extended my hand, and held his. He eventually drifted back to sleep. I needed to clear my senses for awhile. 18 straight hours in the hospital, I was tired. I left my son to the care of the nurses.
I took a walk along the beach that was less than a mile from the hospital. I had walked this particular coastline many times before when I was a child. The tide was coming in. I looked out past the lighthouse; the sun was setting, a beautiful red, yellow and orange. Clouds formed just above the burning star as it was settling in the west. It was high tide and the ocean was still cool going into the month of June. The waves made distinctive crests as the ocean pulled , then receded the sand, back into the underbelly of the sea. The smell of the salt water and the fresh mollusks greeted my nose as the dainty breeze brought them to me. Behind me my tracks are forged; temporarily in the sand; representing where I have been. The empty beach in front of me lay a smooth and even future, that for where I am traveling towards. On a clear day, most all obstacles can be seen. However, when the wind decides to pick up off the dunes, my sight can be obscured.  I continued on my walk.
I was half way along my journey as I noticed something strange ahead. The waves were crashing down on an object as it remained still and lifeless. As I arrived closer to the figure, it started to take the shape of a person, lying in the sand. I stood over it. The body lie face down. Remnants of the beach covered its pale skin. The nude body held all of the physical characteristics of a human being, the exception being the shoulder blades. This life form once had wings. Now torn off, with only shards of bone, protruding out of the middle of the back, bloodied and jagged. My curiosity peaked when I turned it over and realized that not only did this ‘life-form’ once have wings, but its gender was undeterminable. No recognizable sex organs; just skin. What had I stumbled upon? All these stories I had heard of Angels falling from the skies and Guardians sent to protect us. What was this? The beach was deserted. So no one was around to help me.
The sun now had set and the moon started to illuminate more and more as the sun continued to sink. I sat with the cherubic creature, holding its lifeless body. I couldn’t help but think that it held some type of secret, some kind of spirit that would inevitably pass on to me. Either way I found comfort. I had not yet decided what to make of my precarious situation. I could not leave. I also would not dare tell anyone, as surely they would scoff at me. So I waited, coddling the ‘fallen angel’ as it were, and contemplating my situation. Comfort and security continued to wash over me, just as certain as the waves were washing the shoreline. Every crash that crumbled crept up towards me touching my feet. Hours had past. The stars were in full effect. The moon had never been larger or brighter. My serenity had never been greater. Peace and purpose in my life had been met- I wasn’t quite sure what or why, but I knew.
Morning came. I had fallen asleep on the beach. The angel had disappeared. I somehow knew this before I had opened my eyes. My existence crept in somewhere in the middle of the night, during a dream. The sun started to rise in the east. The sounds of the seagulls feeding on their breakfast along with the soundtrack of the ocean. I stood up an dusted myself off as best as I could. I had been miles away from where I had originally started my most fortuitous trek. The wind picked up off the dunes. Sand clouded my vision as I walked. I began thinking of my life; my existence, my son. What was the purpose of the moon and the stars? What about my purpose? I had been single now for more than 8 years. My wife had been taken away from me when she was 6 months pregnant with our second child. I was not depressed, but I was more ‘indifferent’ to the idea of existence. Then I thought about the fallen angel. Why did it fall? Why did it lose its wings? Where was it taken while I was sleeping? I then thought about the serenity it gave me. Then the wind ceased. My mind cleared. The sand in front of me was smooth; deserted. The sun now had dissipated any evidence of a morning fog. A lady then grew clear in this distance. Suddenly the scent changed from the strong scent of the sea, to now the feint smell of flowers.  I believe roses. The closer I came to the woman in the distance, the stronger the smell of the flowers, the stronger my curiosity. The ocean seemed now to receded and completely disappear. The sounds of the waves grew more faint with every break. My eyes were fixed upon the lady in the distance. The sun had reflected beautifully off of her sun dress as the gentle breeze fluttered through her body. She had blonde hair- almost white. She now stood in front of me. One side of her hair hung straight down off her head, the other side was tucked behind her ear along with a head of a red rose that seemed to be freshly cut. Her dress was white with roses printed in a unsymmetrical pattern. Large and small roses. White and red. Her name was Lily. We were no longer on the beach, but in green field. Filled with flowers and green grass. She smiled, and then spoke.
“So it was you that saved Moira?”
“Moira?” I questioned.
“Yes, Moira fell when trying to fly before it was time…Before the wings were strong enough.”
“But he..uhh, was already dead, I thought?”
“No, Angels never die”, She smiled, “As long as people have hope and belief; that there is a way to their own dreams.”
“ Hope,  dreams?”
“Yes, you lost your belief; you lost your hope, so Moira lost the trust of the Angel’s wings”
“I had something to do with it? What gives me the power to do so?”
“You have more to do with the universe than you let on.”
“Well what about fate, what about death, destruction?” I dejected.
“Your only limit would be that of hopelessness. All you have to do is believe.”
“Believe what?!! What do you mean?!”
“You are not in control of your demise, only your fate.”
I stood there and stared, bewildered and a little perturbed. I had more questions than answers. As I remained deep in thought, out of the blinding light behind the flower lady appeared a familiar figure. It was the fallen Angel, Moira. The Angel looked at me and smiled , donning a new set of wings. Beautiful, feathered white wings.
“Moira doesn’t speak. Angels are never seen or heard by anyone on earth.”
“So how am I supposed to believe they exist? If it weren’t for me seeing one with my own eyes, I could not believe!
I stood perplexed. I then looked around to see how the hell I got where I was. Where am I? Who are these people? I wondered.
She took one more look at me and said “How does one believe in anything? Stop asking why, and start asking ‘how’. Your faith will guide you, your fear will only obstruct you.”
Her gentle voice continued to ring through me as I found myself back on the beach, right where I was when I woke up. Was that a dream?  I thought.
I was told my son was moved to the surgical ward. The surgical ward?! I frantically ran down to the 2nd floor, 5 floors from where I was. I had thought the best, AND the worst thoughts at the same time. My heart was beating out of my chest. I started to call out my son’s name as I made it to the ICU, the next leg was surgical. One of the nurses stopped me before I could go any further. “Where’s my son?”
“We tried to call you Mr. Fredrickson” As she said trying to settle me “Your son…you’ve guys found a donor.” As a smile crept on her face.
“What?!!” I was out of breath.
“Just this morning, they found a donor, an old man that had died on the beach. He was watching the sunset…natural causes. Your son is going to be ok…your son is going to be ok…”
I sat down on the floor, next to the room my son was being operated in. I was relieved and exhausted. I suddenly noticed the feint smell of flowers, roses I think…The delivery man was bringing a dozen roses to the nurses station. I looked over. The name on the card read ‘Lily’… All I could do was smile.

© 2008 Jason

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Wow...that was beautiful.

Posted 11 Years Ago

Astounding...what a special piece of writing you've presented! A wonderful truth, with an excellent ending.

Good work! The analogies are tremendous.

I enjoyed your story very much.


Posted 11 Years Ago

To stare death in the face, to look at a beloved child full of aspiration, is a definate moment in life filled with anguish, hope, fear and sadness. You know, I like the point about faith. I used to question myself, how am I supposed to have faith. Frustration would overtake me on this subject. As I grew spiritually, I learned that I had to just hand it over to God, stop all the questioning, and to trust. I even tested my faith. I would take a certain circumstance that I had no control over and hand it over to trusting in my faith. When I had good result, I trusted my faith even more. I know some things in life don't happen for a reason, no matter how much faith there is.

This story is so full of hope! Well versed!!!!! A definate story to inspire any person in a trial in life.

Posted 11 Years Ago

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Added on March 3, 2008
Last Updated on March 18, 2008



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