his star

𝐗𝐋𝐕

𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐨

Someone is touching me, but I can't see who it is. Someone is causing my right arm to feel numb, but I don't know who is responsible for it.

All I can see is white, light that is letting everything appear in the brightest colour possible.

I tried to open my eyes, tried to find out where I am, but I failed.

I want to speak, want to part my lips to at least take in a good breath to find out if I'm alive or if I maybe am somewhere else - a place I haven't had enough time to picture yet.

Mother used to tell me that when I'm old, I will live in the clouds with the angels. Am I in the clouds right now? Is that the reason why everything is so white, why I'm not in pain or why I'm not really feeling anything at all?

I'm not old though, I shouldn't be in the sky, sitting on one of the clouds and letting my feet dangle from above.

Somewhere else. I must be somewhere else.

Another attempt of opening my eyes and this time, I think I see something else and not only the white light. It's darker, but I'm not sure which shade it is.

On top of that, I can hear. A person is walking on stone, heels producing a sound I've heard before. It was so loud, but now it's gone, leaving me behind in a room of silence, only my breathing filling up my ears.

I'm alive, I can hear it now.

If I could just move my head a bit, looking around to examine my surroundings. If I could just say something, make myself noticeable to anyone.

The white is now gone completely and now that I know I'm not sitting on the clouds, living the painless life of death, I feel how my body starts to hurt.

Maybe I'm not built of different muscles, organs and bones. It's like I'm just one thing, a body that has not many different parts that could experience pain but a body that is just one big ball of pain.

Everything hurts and I want everything to stop, want my eyes to shut again in hope of ending it all.

But if I would close my eyes now, I don't think I could open them again so soon.

So I try to look through the pain, shoving it away to get a look at the right side of my body, the side that feels slightly different.

The person who is resting their head on my arm has a face I've seen before, a face that brings up the question again whether I really am alive or if I maybe am dead after all.

Maybe she is going to pick me up, flying me up to the clouds because she definitely belongs there.

Angels don't belong on earth, so she has to be sent from the sky, has to live on one of the clouds because no human could ever look that beautiful in so many ways.

Her hair is curly and I wish I could just free my hand from her grip to brush my fingers through it, to test if I maybe can feel it, if it maybe does feel as heavenly as it looks like.

I always thought an angel has to have blond shiny hair, white flawless skin that is glowing - reflecting the sunlight like a mirror. The spiritual beings are described to have blue striking eyes, being a replica of the sky they call their home.