Short Story: Where Conscience Begins

Constantina pressed her fingers against the ice blue glass, looking at the teenage boy on the other side. She knew he was a million miles away and she was seeing years in the future, but she could hear and see the scene as if she was there.
She watched him laughing, as he passed the oddly shaped pipe to his friend. The scene switched, he was older now, and she turned away from the vulgar, bloody scene in front of her.

“What is his name?” She asked the man in white beside her.

“They will call him Ezra.” He responded.

 She wrapped her long white wings around her, like she always did when she was feeling uneasy. She had lived for an eternity, and now she was doubting herself like a human child.

“He looks like he will live a hard life. What if I cannot help him?” She looked up at the man, who smiled at her patiently. She turned back, looking again through the blue glass, tugging her wings about her more tightly. The scene playing was of a child now, who had just fallen off of his bicycle, crying big crocodile tears as his mother bandaged his knee.

The man in white looked at her with a soft, comforting gaze. “He is but a human. Just like any human. They need a guide.”

She sighed and looked at the ground. “What if I fail?” She whispered.

The man took his hands in hers. “This is your purpose. You are a light.”

Constantina was quiet for a long while. “Will it hurt?” She asked, meekly.

“No, my child.” The man responded, with a smile. “Now go in peace. And believe. I am always with you.”

He put his hand on her shoulder, and the beautiful white world around her vanished.

 For a moment, she was nothing, and nowhere. Its dark. Where is my body?
Is this death? She wondered.

Then, there was sound. Blood rushing through veins like a fast, bottomless river. A sound like lightning. Synapses firing. And a beating heart. Consistent, low, and deep. Her wings were gone. She was just a ball of light. Well, at least I’m not a cricket.
She thought.

Then, there was a new sound. A baby crying. A monitor beeping. And light! She was seeing out of very new, barely open eyes. A hospital room. With a crying mother, and father. She recognized them. She had seen them through the glass! They were much younger now. And so happy. So expectant. The father held the newborn tight to his chest. “I think we’ll call him…Ezra.”

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