A B O V E

Simon Stuarts is in a coma. He has been for the past three months now. Ever since being involved in his grandfather’s car accident, Simon hasn’t done as much as opened his eyes. He just slumbers restlessly in the white hospital bed...in the white hospital room...knowing nothing...nothing but sweet, sweet sleep... Until one day, he wakes up.

published on June 086 reads 4 readers 0 not completed

1

Four year old boys should be out playing in the grass on warm summer days like this. They should be smiling, and giggling, their plump feet carrying them through the backyard. Four year old boys should be having fun down in the creek, skipping stones and chasing frogs. Four year old boys should be enjoying days like this. Perfect, warm, sunny summer days.
But Simon is not.
Simon is sleeping.
Simon has been sleeping for the past four and a half months.
It happened on a Spring day that was much like this one. He and his grandfather were driving along the back road just as they did most every Saturday afternoon. They were having a great time together.
Until a deer leapt out of the thickets, and Simon’s grandfather swerved.
Simon cried out as he was jerked about.
“GRANDPA!” He yelped, voice shrill and tears streaming down his pale cheeks.
And then there was a crash, and darkness overtook him.
“...Simon...”
“...Simon!...”
“Simon, wake up...”
His eyes drifted open, and he found himself gazing upon a strange being.
His skin was paler than paper, and he was dressed in nothing but a pale blue hospital gown. A surgical mask was slapped over his mouth, and bandages were wrapped all over his arms and legs, and around his head. On each knee, was a large and painful looking scraped. Alongside him, he carried a metal pole, with a bag and a tube leading into his arm. An unusual being...
But what Simon found most unusual was not the blue. Or the IV pole, or the bandages... But the wings...magnificent feathered wings sprouted from his back...They were tattered and unkept, and feathers snapped and bend out in all directions. Bandages were wrapped around the wings as well. Despite the damage, Simon still found them gorgeous.
“Who are you...?” He whispered.
“Doesn’t matter...” the angel answered in a soft voice.
“Take my hand.”
“My mommy told me not to go with strangers.”
“Take my hand...” He repeated.
Hesitating, the four year old took the hand of the magnificent being. All of the sudden, the giant wings flapped, and Simon and the angel were swept off their feet.
“What’s happening?!” Cries Simon, as the ground beneath him grows smaller. He looks up towards the angel for assurance.
“You’re okay. I’m just taking you home.”
“Okay...”
The angel’s lips curl into a smile, as the young boy looks down at his knees?”
“Does it hurt?”
“What?”
“Your knees...They’re all scraped up...”
“Not anymore.”
“What happened?”
No response.
“Tell me what happened!”
The angel shakes his head.
“I don’t want to.”
“Fine.”
“Are you an angel?”
“Of course I am.”
“What’s in your bag?”
“It’s emotional morphine.”
“Where are you taking me?”
“Why do you ask so many questions?”
Simon stops, curiosity increasing the temptation to continue bombarding the angel with questions.
“Can you tell me about your knees— “
“Please stop.”
He sounded grim.
“Why are you so upset...?”
“Side effect of the morphine, kid.” The angel said with a sigh.
“Now come along... We’re almost home.”
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