Angel by Phil Cummings Page B

Shane pulled him away fromthe edge of despair. He had to get back to them. Brushing his forearm across his face he tried to stand. He was on one knee, when suddenly, his whole body shuddered from head to toe, almost taking his breath away. ‘Oh ah,’ he gasped, trying to catch his breath. He tilted his head back, pulling air desperately into his lungs. The shuddering tingled to an incredible numbness.
    Rob was terrified. He was sure that his time was up. He wanted to call to Jenny and Shane but couldn’t. He tried to heave himself up but he couldn’t move. This was not how he imagined dying would be. He hadn’t realised he’d be able to think about it, to feel it and know it was coming. Suddenly, with an overwhelming sense of relief and satisfaction, he felt a great warmth pour into his body like warm milk being poured into a cup. Then, he felt still, calm and very alert.
    He was sure he must be dead. He looked down at his coat and scarf. He tugged at them, He didn’t feel dead. He felt warm and comfortable but confused. He looked around. It was still snowing, the wind was still wild. He stood up. He could feel the tips of his fingers. He wriggled his toes. He could feel those too. He was breathing steadily, evenly. It was as if someone had stuck a heater down his pants and turned it on high. He felt fabulous, absolutely fantastic!
    The sound of Jenny’s and Shane’s voices reached out again to him through the darkness. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled. He rolled his shoulders. ‘I’m coming!’ he called. ‘I’m on my way.’ He trudged off smartly, feeling energetic and recharged.
    Shane was still resting wearily against his exhausted mother when he heard his father’s voice coming closer and closer. ‘Here I come! I’m here! I’m nearly back.’
    To Shane, his father’s voice sounded like it did when they played hide-and-seek. It was singing, almost playful. Shane peered into the darkness in the direction of the sound. He had almost closed his eyes and given in to a great tiredness that was so hard to fight. It would be so easy to give in and let it take over. But when he fixed his gaze on the dark figure of his father, the sight that greeted him nearly took his breath away. His eyes popped wide open with astonishment. His breathing quickened. He saw the tall shadowy figure of his father lurching towards him but it was who was with him that made him sit upright.
    David was bouncing playfully on his father’s shoulders — his shiny black hair flapping, his arms wrapped around his father’s neck and his glowing body shedding the occasional spark.
    David took one hand from his father’s neck and, smiling brightly, gave the thumbs up sign.‘Hey, Shaney boy!’ he cried. ‘I’m back!’
    Shane wasn’t sure what to think. Was he delirious? Was he dreaming? Or was it like Aunt Sue had said, dreams can predict your future. Maybe the angel David had been a dream, a warning that he was going to become an angel himself soon. Could this be his last night on earth and this the final sign? Could it?

With An Angel On Your Shoulder
    Shane watched David still bouncing on his father’s shoulders just as he used to in play fights and piggyback games.
    â€˜Don’t panic, Shane,’ David called, sensing his brother’s confusion. ‘Everything’s going to be fine. You lot look as though you could really use an angel.’
    Shane said nothing. He looked up at his mother, who was confused and alarmed by his sudden movements of surprise.
    â€˜What is it, Shane?’ she cried, her voice squealing with urgency. ‘What’s wrong?’
    Shane smiled at her weakly, but warmly.
    Jenny didn’t like the glazed look in his eyes. She’d seen it before. ‘No Shane! No!’
    Rob heard her cry and ran as fast as the deep snow would allow. He stumbled into the shelter and knelt next to