Hollowing Souls

Adventures in Babysitting

August 12, 2005

St. John's Hospital, Minnesota

The hospital room was bright and spotless, the walls a soft, comforting blue. The room, though small, was silent, save for the persistent beeping of the machines and the cheerful voice of a young child, who sat cross-legged on the hospital bed, a small hardcover book in her lap. One hand held the book open, while the other followed beneath the words as she sounded each one out. "W-What's this word?" The young girl paused, turning her head to look over at the person laying in the bed beside her. "Mom?"

The older woman smiled, tiredly shifting her head. "Let me see, honey." When the young girl eagerly held up the book and pointed to the word her smile widened ever so slightly. " 'Tweetle.' " She read the entire line out loud. " 'When tweetle beetles fight.' "

"Oh." The book dropped back down into the girl's lap, and she repeated after her mother before moving on to the next line, "it's called a tweetle beetle b-battle." She looked up once again. "Mommy what's a tweetle?"

"I don't know." The woman gently reached up to put her fragile hand on the side her daughter's face. "You know I love you, right, sweetheart?" The mother's hand slipped downwards, fingers lifting the angel wing pendant around her daughter's small neck.

The girl let out a grin, wiggling away from her touch. "You always say that," she giggled before pulling a face. Before her mother could respond, she pulled her book back into her lap. "Shh. I'm not done reading to you." She put her small finger back on the page. "When tweetle beetles battle with . . . paddles in a puddle, they call it —"

She paused when the machine to her left started making a funny noise, the beeping speeding up until suddenly it was one long, drawn-out cry. "Mom?" The girl looked over at her mother, blinking in confusion. "Mommy?"

The doors burst open and the young girl jumped when doctors rushed in. Suddenly a man was scooping her up in his arms, pulling her away. "Dad!" The young girl let out a cry of protest as she was picked up. "What's wrong with Mommy?"

"Be quiet, baby." Her father carried her away, and the child looked over his shoulder, blue eyes wide.

"Mommy?"

...

May 11, 2012

Sioux Falls, South Dakota

Alex hit the ground with a grunt, black wings pulling in tight as she rolled. She ended up on her back, but she didn't get up, staring blankly up into the sky as she fought to catch her breath. "Bobby." The name fell from her lips, and her throat tightened.

Where was she?

The young angel rolled over to see the charred, broken timbers all around her. Her hand went out, fingers closing around the blackened edges of a page on which she could just barely make out the unintelligible scrawling in familiar handwriting. She clutched the papers in her hands and rolled onto her back, wings falling open as she crinkled the scrap of paper in her hand. Home. Her wings had brought her home.

The sky opened up with a crack of thunder, the heavens sharing in her grief. The rain bounced off of the mud and debris all around her, but Alex made no attempt to move. Within seconds she was soaked to the bone, her clothes plastered to her skin. Alex instinctively reached up, fingers closing around the two pendants on her necklace: the first was anti-possession charm Bobby had given her, and right beside it the angel wing from her mother. Alex gripped them tight, desperately searching for futile comfort. Lightning lit up the night sky, and thunder cracked overhead, but the angel only stared blankly ahead, her system shocked with grief.