Reflections of Life.

The little boy stood, eyes wide and staring at the blue halo in the sky. His hands shook and his eyes were wet and red from crying. Donnie was so very afraid.

The damp heat of the night pushed against the boy’s measly weight and suffocated him. Below in quaking water stood another boy; a boy so alike Donnie, it was frightful. Donnie stared in disbelief as a solid blue halo adorned the reflected boys head and dazzled him.

There was nothing more beautiful; nothing more stunning than the doe eyed angel boy looking back at him.

However, this magic didn’t last, Donnie’s bottom began stinging from the lashes and he could make out faraway yelling. Life called, so Donnie parted with the angel boy and promised to come and visit again some night.

There was a halo resting above your head, then it slid down around your neck…

The nearly adult Donnie stood, peering down at his simple reflection. There was nothing strange, nor magical about it. Things were not as he remembered them.

Donnie crossed his arms and huffed at the moon. He had fulfilled his promise, where was the doe eyed boy? Where was his angel?

Donnie whispered at the moon, pleading and explaining his long absent.

“Life called, moon. What was I to do?”

It was true; life had called. Life had called and begged him to join in. Donnie’s angry father called, Donnie’s passive mother called, age and growth had called on Donnie. They called on Donnie and pulled him in every imaginable direction.

There was nothing he could do. Nothing he could have done, except stop living, and that was simply not an option; not for that scared little boy.

Donnie’s hands shook with anger and disappointment. He looked down one more time to lock eyes with a man. The man stood tall and thin and stared straight at Donnie with solid squinting eyes. A blue halo hung around the man’s neck and threatened his beauty. It was unmistakably the same doe eyed boy. It was Donnie’s angel, with a thick grainy noose tied tightly around his neck.

The man’s eyes bulged and his mouth hung open; Donnie reached for his throat, clutching. Then something exploded inside him. Blood rushed through Donnie’s body, bursting from its tunnels. His skin was painted to resemble the heavy pond below him. His bone marrow quaked and pushed at its boundaries. Donnie fell to his knees, still staring intently at the angel in front of him. Nothing fazed him; nothing could possibly tear his eyes away from such beauty.

There was a halo resting above your head, then it slid down around your neck…

Death called, what was he to do?