Not Ready

Maine. 1992. Summer’s dusk accompanies the cricket choir. A warm breeze cools the sweaty skin of the little girl and takes a wisp of hair across her face. She perches upon the front porch, gazing across the greenest front lawn, to the forest beyond, then up to the fading sky. Night ushers in a calmness, stillness.

Suddenly, high noon bursts through the unsuspecting darkness! A white flash explodes and little girl floats

Up

Up

Faster

Faster.

She feels light, free, calm, content.

She realizes the truth; she is

Dead.

“No, no! This isn’t right!” she thinks. She feverishly begs God to let her live. She’s too young to die. She can’t leave her parents yet. Please, please. She has so much to do. Just please bring her back to earth, to her body.

She begins to sink. The weight of the world descends upon her shoulders

HEAVIER

as she nears earth. So heavy, heavy.

Her spirit reunites with her physical form. A dismal gratefulness swirls inside her core.

G   A S  P!

Eyes flicker. Labored breathing ensues. Confusion entangles her mind.

A dream?

An awakening?

An untimely death?

She seems to think it a premonition of her mortal end.

Or is she already dead?