The Guardian

Her eyes were that of ocean blue with specs of winter frost.
Her ringlet hair the color of honey with hues of burning amber.
She whispered, her voice like satin, coaxing me to surrender,
Into her warm, protective embrace, to shield me from my loss.

“Do not weep for them, my child.” she said.

‘For there is no reason to consume your heart with sorrow.
They will always be with you, memories burned to mind and soul.
I offer a gift that cannot be bought for any amount of gold.
It is a chance, an offer given to few, to change tomorrow.”

Those mesmerizing eyes bore into mine and I could not look away.
Her smile glowed and cast its glory upon my face.

“You must go back.” she said. “For where I’m going you cannot follow, but do not fear, for I shall be with you always.”

A soft mist grew into billowy clouds, which carried her above,
Until I could no longer see her, but still I felt her touch,
As I was whisked away, into the night, like particles of dust,
Admiring the starry sky, my being filled with joy and love.

“But why?” I asked. “Why was I the one chosen? Surely, there must be someone else who deserves this chance more than I.”

“You do not wish to receive this gift?” She whispered.

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate the offer you are giving me, but Michael has a mother who’s sick and he’s been taking care of her. Shelby is a devoted wife and a wonderful mother. I have no one depending on me.”

“There is another way.” She said. “Do you offer yourself as a sacrifice so your friends shall live?”

“It is the only decision to make.” He replied.

“Very well.” She said.

He was surrounded by a light as bright as the early morning sun.
Through a smoky haze, he saw the future his sacrifice created.
Shelby, the girls and her husband, in the park, then it faded,
To Michael reading by his mother’s bedside in complete devotion.

His body was placed within the ground, but his spirit will be forever watchful.

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About phillystarvingwriter

Starving writer with a day job hoping one day to make a living doing what I love best.

Posted on June 29, 2011, in Unfinished Work. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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