kneeling, he still prayed a thousand prayers. Almost meditating, he would not break his stare, as
if trying to summon God to come through that painting to speak to him.
Blinking once, then again and again, Dillon found himself suddenly still. The bedroom
was getting brighter by the second. Unable to handle the light intensity, he finally broke his
prayer pose and shielded his eyes with his hands. As he did this, the ceiling opened up and a
snowfall came down, light and airy flakes the size of golf balls floated softly around him,
touching his hair and shoulders in caressing whispers. He held his hands out to feel them, awed
by the image of the room coated in whiteness.
“It’s…snowing?” He whispered to the air, touching snowflakes so he could watch them
expand and brighten by several feet. After a few minutes of this winter landscape, the entire
room was full with heavenly bodies encircling him; angels from First Heaven were there to
protect him, and most of all, to embrace him.
The brightness around him suddenly intensified; a crystallized white unlike anything he
could ever fathom imagining appeared before him. It took on a life of its own, quickly absorbing
the painting and forcing Dillon to look around the room at the silent gathering. The angels were
there, and they wanted him to come with them.
“Wh-what ddd-do you want?” Tears began to fall down his face as he watched them
come in closer, hovering over him. His trembling rippled up and down his body and his
stuttering kept him from speaking, but his mind spoke for him, loud and clear to all in the room.
Leave me alone, leave me here. I have no purpose now….I failed him…
As if sensing someone important nearby, the entities quickly parted; their bodies of
blinding white glided away to reveal him standing there, directly in front of Dillon. The Angel
Sebastian leaned back against the bookcases, ruffling his massive gray wings, their tips sweeping
the hard wood floors as dust flew to either side of him.
Dillon cautiously looked up and saw, through his straggly hair, the surprisingly human-
looking, male angel leaning there, chewing on his nails nonchalantly. He was beautiful, wearing
a black suit jacket and pants, white button down, un-tucked shirt, and bare feet with toes
wiggling and stretching as if he’d been in uncomfortable shoes all day. Dillon noticed the
angel’s lack of pigment immediately—
Or was that just a lot of white powder or stage makeup? Are we in a play? Dillon
glanced down at his own tee shirt and pajama pants then back at the angel again, who was still
