"Annihilation, Epilogue" by Jane Lebak

Epilogue

An eight-year-old boy in an angel costume ran ahead of a black-haired woman in an ankle-length grey cloak. "Hurry up!" He tugged at the door to the nursing home.

"Don't you think you've trick-or-treated enough?" the woman said as she hauled open the door for him.

The boy turned his bright grey eyes on her. "Just this one more, please? And then we're done. Come on!"

A number of the residents relaxed in the main lobby. The little boy ran right up to the closest cluster of elderly ladies, adjusting his gold-wire halo. "Trick or treat!"

A chorus of "Ooh!"s from the women. "Who are you?" one woman said.

The boy stood straight and tall. "I'm the archangel Gabriel!"

The women gave him another chorus of "ooh"s, and one said, "What a little angel!"

He clasped his hands behind him. "Thank you, Ma'am!"

"And so polite, too." They gave him candy to put in his pillowcase. He ran to the next group, and one of the residents turned to the grey-cloaked woman. "That's an incredible costume. Did you make that for him?"

Eyes sparkling, she said, "His Father did."

"You must be very proud of him," said another.

"He certainly is energetic," the woman said, then called, "Gabriel! Don't go far!"

A moment later the cloaked woman saw the grand piano beneath the tall windows. "Is that in tune?" When the residents assured her it was, she settled at the keyboard while Gabriel did his rounds through the whole room. By the time he returned to her an hour later, his pillowcase was full of candy and his head full of anecdotes from the residents. Taking requests, Israfel was astounding everyone with a faultless rendition of every song.

"Your mom is really talented," one gentleman told Gabriel, rubbing his hair.

"I know, sir." He straightened his halo. "She's been good to me."

Seeing Gabriel, Israfel stood from the piano bench, and the residents all asked her to return sometime with her charming son. Israfel tousled Gabriel's hair and told him to say goodbye.

Not yet, he sent. There's one more upstairs.

He grabbed her hand, leading her along corridors that smelled of antiseptic and waste at the same time. The sterile light from fluorescent fixtures glared against the polished floor as they walked, occasionally stopping at a resident's room, announcing "Trick or treat!" and then producing for the resident a treat from the pillowcase. Each time Gabriel did this, the resident would exclaim that it was his favorite, and how had he known?

At the end of the corridor, Gabriel said, "Last stop. I promise."

Israfel sighed. "Did we just cover the whole Earth?"

"That's why Raphael doesn't want to do it anymore." Gabriel squeezed her hand. "It makes for a long day. But it's a chance to talk to people when they don't expect an angel."

"I have to admit," Israfel said, "name-that-tune was fun."

Gabriel turned into the corner room, a double with one resident out; the other lay in the bed by the window, muttering in a monotone.

Gabriel climbed onto the bed and got her attention with a soft, "Trick or treat."

The woman's guardian sat on the edge. "She won't understand."

Gabriel withdrew a handful of hard candies from the bag, then handed one to the woman.

She took it with translucent-skinned fingers, unwrapping it with a light crinkling. First she slipped it into her mouth, then whispered, "Horehound drops."

Gabriel looked into her eyes, his gaze riveting her as only an angel's can, bringing her a pinpoint of clarity.

"Grandma brings these," she murmured, half submerged by the dream that was her life. "My father goes to work. Then Grandma comes."

Gabriel stroked her hand while the woman sucked on the candy, and its long-ago flavor evoked a dozen locked memories.

The woman's guardian touched her hair wistfully.

Gabriel said, "Does Grandma come every day?"

"She does." She gazed into the angel's eyes as if there was no one else. "I think she does. So hard to remember," and she returned to chanting beneath her breath.

Gabriel said, "Talk to me."

She stopped, looked only at him. "My father leaves. Grandma comes. When will my father come home?" Her eyes filled with tears. "Where am I? When will I go home?"

Gabriel lined up five of the brown candies on the woman's bedside tray, counting out loud. The woman focused.

"Every day," Gabriel said, "Grandma will bring one to you. Every day, you can have one." She still watched. "Five candies. When you have the last one, your Father will come get you. And you'll go home."

"After the last candy," she said.

"One a day," Gabriel said. "When Grandma comes."

The guardian looked startled and relieved at the same time. "She may not remember. She's lost so much."

It's hard to have parts of you slip away. Gabriel stroked the woman's bony hand. But she'll get it back. Just a little longer and she'll be whole again.

Outside once more, Gabriel walked with the pillowcase in one hand and Israfel's in the other. The Seraph was quiet.

Gabriel moved closer to Israfel. "Thank you for coming with me."

She looked down at him in his wire halo. "Do I get first pick of the take?"

"I get all the Smarties."

"Naturally."

"Everything else I would put out in the jar in the library." He slowed his steps, and so did Israfel. "So you can either take a pile now, or maybe," and his voice lowered to almost inaudible, "you could come get your share a piece at a time."

She met his eyes as they turned the corner. In the next moment a breeze blew through, and then there was nobody there.

Jane Lebak wrote her first book at age three, in magenta crayon, on green-bar computer paper. Her writing has improved since 1975, but the passion remains.

Jane's first accepted novel was signed by Thomas Nelson in 1993 when she was 20 years old, enrolled in the English and Religious Studies programs at Cornell University. The Guardian, a fantasy about angels, was published under the name Jane Hamilton the next year when she was enrolled in an MA writing program at SUNY Brockport. It sold 23,000 copies plus 5,000 copies of a Crossings Book Club edition, before being declared out of print.

Jane got married in 1995 and delayed her publication goals to begin her family, but she never stopped writing. She has had short fiction published in Catfantastic IV, Dragons, Knights and Angels, The Sword Review, and Liguorian Magazine, among others, and nonfiction published in Chicken Soup For The Cat Lover's Soul, Holding Hands With God, Byline, Celebrate Life Magazine, Mothering Magazine, and several more. Numerous humor pieces have appeared in The Wittenburg Door and in The Compleat Mother. Although Thomas Nelson insisted she change her maiden name, she now publishes under her married name.

For more information visit < www.mindflights.com >. The above items appear as part of Volume 1, 2008, Issue 1.

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Seven Archangels: Annihilation

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