Heaven

Wrote this when I was extremely tired so apologies if its crappy

Stars burning in the sky. Somewhere he moves through the air and waves his hand. Planets are created. And Life forms. We move through the darkness unknowing what is coming after us. Or what dwells with us in this never ending universe.

A starlit night hangs on the horizon for as far as the eye can see. He stands out on his porch and marvels at this spectacle and wonders. He ponders how he came here and why the world revolves in this space like it does. And yet he doesn’t come close to understanding it. He never comes close to figuring out what exactly is happening because it isn’t up to us to know this. It will never be up to us to figure out what happens.

A comet moves through the silent night. Its tail burning its way across the air. He wishes upon it. He wishes for better times to come. He wishes for things he knows that will never happen. But mostly he wishes for something to come of his life. Everyday he stands out on his porch. Wishing for something more too happen in his life. Something to come along and make things better. Perhaps this will never happen, he knows and yet he hopes upon his life and soul and his heart and his mind and body that something … something will happen.

If only he knew how right he was with regards to this as right at that very moment something was brewing. Something was happening…

Millions of miles way they watched him from their perch. The beating of wings resounds in the caves. They lowered their telescopes from their eyes and nodded knowingly to one another. Each wore a long white robe which fell to the floor. Their wings uncurled and flapped, raising them into the air and out of the cave.

There are so many things about this life which we do not know. Things which we will never begin to fathom. As even if we attempted to do so, it would cause that persons head to explode. So much information would mean instant death. Yet there are those who try and understand the makings of the universe. They believe that they are close to understanding everything. And yet, they have yet to scratch the surface of what is going on.

Clouds moved in from the East bringing with it wind and rain. He moved back into his house and sat on his bed, scanning through the television channels as he did. Most showed static; it was the end of their broadcasting day. He stared at the clock on his nightstand; it flashed 3 a.m. in fluorescent green numbers. Another sleepless night, he realised. Perhaps soon he would finally be able to rest. He wasn’t sure. Not that he cared anymore. Months of this had left him drained and empty. He lay back and rested his head regardless. Hours passed and eventually he drifted off to sleep.

They moved through the darkness like one would navigate a ship through open waters. Hundreds of billions of stars passed in their wake. The gentle beating of wings echoed through the emptiness of space. A lonely blue planet stood out in front of them. They were close.

The beeping of alarm clock awoke him from his troubled sleep. His dreams began to vanish like the mist, which had covered the fields during the night-time. Something stood out about them, yet he couldn’t figure out exactly what it was. A voice, perhaps. Aged. Knowing. Real. But what did it say? He couldn’t exactly remember. And as he lay in his bed, he began to doubt whether he had heard anything at all.

He arose from his bed and changed into his clothes. Somewhere outside the birds sang, welcoming the new day. They sang songs of happiness, of joy, of sorrow, of pain, of anguish, of how the world moves the way it does, and of how the world will eventually die. Man will never begin to appreciate this, though, as we are always constantly moving too quickly. If we just took the time to listen, we might begin to comprehend the wisdom of which they speak.

The morning sun shone in from the heavens as he eventually stepped outside. He stared skywards. Patches of clouds formed intricate designs in the air above him. These stood stark against the blue sky. It looked like a painted picture that would hang in a gallery. Everything seemed so serene.

Something caught his attention; there was a movement in the air. Birds, he thought to himself. And yet, as they moved closer, he began to notice the other details; hands and feet, heads and faces. He stared in awe of this, not being able to move. There were at least a dozen of them. They were all dressed in white robes which billowed in the wind. In their hands they held golden tridents. They were barefoot. Each of them landed gently to the ground as if they weighed nothing more than a feather. White feathers drifted to the ground.

He stood there silently staring at these figures. They spoke not a word, as if they didn’t possess the ability to speak whatsoever. A figure nodded to the other and they advanced towards him slowly. He wanted to run, to scream, to fight, to defend himself, to do something. And yet he was frozen to the spot. Don’t worry said a voice in his head, everything will be okay He stared at the figure at the front and it nodded at him. We will not hurt you.

For some reason he felt himself relaxing at this. The urges to do anything whatsoever vanished and he stood there placidly, observing the dozen figures with bemused fascination. One stretched out a pale, long and skinny hand forwards. He contemplated this for a moment. Go on, the voice said, its okay. He took the figures hand in his own and he felt faint. The world seemed to fade and blur around him. He began to panic, his heart racing in his chest. Don’t worry, the voice repeated, everything will be okay. He began to feel as light as a feather. It’s perfectly normal. Not a thing to worry about.

This relaxed again once more. He didn’t even react when he realised that he was floating. The houses, and trees, and cars, and people shrank until they became nothing more than pinpricks. And then they vanished through the clouds. Eventually the planet itself began to grow smaller and smaller until it too vanished into the darkness of space. He stared at the figure holding his hand, and at the dozen other figures with him; their wings all flapping as if caught in some unseen and unfelt wind. They smiled back at him. Almost there, the voice said reassuringly, it’s almost over. He nodded. And then they too vanished.

They found him the following day, lying in his bed. He had passed away during the night, the doctors had said, his heart just gave up. And yet on his face he wore a smile.

Odaise Gaelach

Fabulous story! I thought that the winged creatures were daemons or something at the beginning, but then I saw that they were angels...

Just one little niggle. I know that in the first paragraph you're talking about God, and in the second paragraph you're talking about an old man. But there's nothing to distinguish between them, so that I think that you're talking about the same person in both paragraphs, which is slightly confusing.

Gahh! I'm rambling. Okay, my advice is to change this:

...as the eye can see. An old man stands out on his porch...

But don't worry too much about it. That's me being a nit-picking again. Ultimately, it's fantastic. Excellent short-story man. Congratulations!

Deleted User wrote:

Wrote this when I was extremely tired so apologies if its crappy

4:00AM to around 6:00AM is my writing time. And I'm usually tired there too. I wonder if it's like that for anyone else... like Stephen King... or Pat McCabe...

The Bollox

it was a beautiful story, congrats

Odaise Gaelach

Odaise Gaelach wrote:

Just one little niggle. I know that in the first paragraph you're talking about God, and in the second paragraph you're talking about an old man. But there's nothing to distinguish between them, so that I think that you're talking about the same person in both paragraphs, which is slightly confusing.

That actually does make a lot of sense. And you're right. I only noticed it when you pointed it out and it is somewhat confusing. I have no idea how to edit the post here, but I have changed it on the original.

Thanks for the praise

DamoKen

Deleted User wrote:

I have no idea how to edit the post here, but I have changed it on the original.

on any post you've written you should see an Edit button beside the usual Quote button. Just click on that and you'll be able to edit your first post.

Odaise Gaelach

DamoKen wrote:

on any post you've written you should see an Edit button beside the usual Quote button. Just click on that and you'll be able to edit your first post.

Sometimes the Edit button disappears if the thread has been replied to. I found that out in some of my stories.

Deleted User wrote:

That actually does make a lot of sense. And you're right. I only noticed it when you pointed it out and it is somewhat confusing. I have no idea how to edit the post here, but I have changed it on the original.

Have it changed? Good. Now the story is pretty much perfect.

For some reason the edit button is missing from the original post, though I have changed it on the original.

shiv

I like the tone and philosophical quality of this one. Your sentences seem much shorter and punchier in places too.

Few grammatical things--every day instead of everyday, remember apostrophes, etc.

I agree with other posters you need some more smooth transitions between paragraphs and change in perspective.

Good work!