Angels on the Beach

This is difficult for me to comprehend and even more difficult to describe. I am inhabiting my body, as usual, yet I am also standing a few feet away, observing myself lying on the beach in the shade of a tall palm tree.

I should be in agony, yet I am not. My belly has opened up to reveal a bucketful of long, thin, albino worms. They are wriggling in their own slime. I feel no physical pain. Mentally, I am tormented. I am confused by my predicament but that is not the problem. I am swamped in a cacophony of disturbing emotions. I feel happiness and sadness. I feel grief, which is making me cry, tears streaming down my cheeks and dripping onto the sand. I am terrified, my blood running cold, yet my body is buzzing and on fire.

Two figures glide, noiselessly, towards me. They are in the shape of very tall humans, at least nine feet tall. They are both female. They are translucent, mother-of-pearl, and have a serene calmness about them. Like me, they are naked. They crouch beside me. I feel their kindness and love as they examine me.

Their lips do not move and I hear no sounds, but their words, their communication is clear to me.

We must fetch Grace. She will save him.

Yes. I agree.

Don’t move, child. Stay calm. We will fetch help.

They turn and move, gracefully back down the beach.

Moments later, another beautiful being appears by my side. Neither my internal nor external being saw her approach. She kneels at my side and places her hands on my belly, on the writhing mass of slimy worms, which immediately begin to subside. The storm of my emotions also begins to diminish in its ferocity. The sun is shining and the sea is flat calm; a silver mirror.

My tummy is as smooth as the water. I am calm. I am relaxed. I am comfortably warm.

Grace is an angel. Out of the blue, I ask myself why she is not wearing a white cassock and sporting a halo and a pair of large, white wings. In a flash, I answer my own question. Why, in Heaven, if that is where these angels reside, would they have a factory full of tailors, manufacturing clothes for their fellow angels? Of course, they wouldn’t. They would be naked, just as we, in our earthly form come into the world and as we leave it.

Lay still and breathe deeply. You will know when it is the right time for you to rise. The swans will need your help.

Grace rises to her feet and drifts off, leaving me to relax in the shade of the big palm tree. I close my eyes.

# # # # #

Much later, I open my eyes. For the first time, in my recent memory, I feel totally relaxed. I have no stress.

When I say, “much later,” it could be weeks, hours, or even seconds but, to me, it feels like MUCH later.

I slowly rise to my feet and head of along the beach. I notice that, cruising alongside me, is a giant swan. It is absolutely beautiful. It is connected to me. She is my sister. She must be at least four times the size of a normal swan. She loves me and I love her back, equally.

I hear screaming: high-pitched shrieking. I look out to the source of the frantic sounds and I can see the foam being whipped up in a patch of turbulent water which is swirling angrily in the middle of the flat calm sea. My heart leaps into my mouth. There are children out there, drowning!

Without hesitation, I launch myself towards them. There are six giant swans swimming around the perimeter of the troubled waters, in pairs. I reach the children and I pass them, one by one, to my guardian friends. I never feel that I am in any danger. The swans ferry the children to the shore. They are all saved. Every single one of those frightened children is saved.

I return to the beach.

Grace hugs me warmly.


About Lance Greenfield

Blog: email: I published my debut novel in December 2014: Eleven Miles. My second novel went live in February 2016: Knitting Can Walk!
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