Shadow Girl

After being murdered by a serial killer, young Lucy Willis chooses to spend her afterlife learning more about her murderer.

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2. There was a light...

The last thing I saw on Earth That Night was Him running out the front door. My eyes darkened. I could not see. I felt blind. I felt deaf. Suddenly a tiny, little speck of silver appears before my eyes.

It was growing! It grew to the size of an apple, then to a basketball. It kept on growing until it finally was right infront of me. There were two pure white murble collumns with white roses circling the bottom. It was beautiful. The luminous light was almost blinding. A figure came from the left side. She was dressed in an elegant white dress that flowed at the end. Her dark brown hair was pulled to the side, adorned with lace and chrystal. Her smile was so white. Her face was flawless. It hurt to look at her. She was an angel. "Welcome," she nearly whispered, "How do you wish to spend this?". She gestured around us. What? What did she mean? "How do you wish to spend your afterlife?" she said, her icy blue eyes looked into my soul. I freeze. She could read my thoughts?! My thoughts strayed to my murderer. "Where's my mother?", I ask. "She chose to meet her grandmother at this time." "But she's dead!", I exclaim and stand up. My hand searches for where I was stabbed, but it was gone. I look up to see the angel smiling. " I-I choose to learn about my murderer," I stutter. Her smile vanishes, "Very well." Suddenly, I  feel weightless. I feel free. My pajamas were gone, they have been replaced with a long dress with lace sleeves. My hand reaches to my mouth. My braces are gone. My hair is not in a ponytail anymore. I feel beautiful. Looking up, I see that the scene is fading. The light dims. The angel fades to black. I am in a dark room. And hovered over a desk is Him, weeping. I let out a gasp. The man looks my direction. I cover my mouth.

Lucy, you are dead. He can't SEE you. But he can HEAR you.

I tiptoe closer. Why is he weeping? The man clasps his hands together. "Help me God, help me God," the man whispers. Why should God help him? He killed us. But with my now clear, weightless soul, I see the real Him. Poor. Lowly. In fact, humble. It was so dark in the room, that I couldn't see the huge shelf in front of me. A load of books fall to the dirty ground. The man jumps. I freeze. "Who's there?" he cries. I don't make the slightest movement. But something inside pushes me, " Your victim," I whisper. He cries and cries. My fists loosen. The man can see me now. He, in fact, falls to his knees and clasps his hands, as if he's praying to me. "Help me guardian angel," he sobs quietly. Guardian angel? Then, the angel's voice echoes in my mind:

You shall be his guardian angel.

I nod and lay my hands on the man's shoulders. "Repent," I say. The man looks into my eyes and nods. He lowers his head and whispers, "I-I a-m s-s-orry."   

 

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