The Weeping Angels
You Look Just Like Her
They walked through the cream coloured halls side by side. Emma hurried along with quick steps in order to keep up with Eric’s long, sweeping stride.
“This one,” she said as they cam to an open door. The room was empty except for the metal bed with bright white sheets encasing an elderly man.
Eric paused at the door. He watched as the old man shifted slightly in his bed, reached up and scratched his bristly scalp with old hands. Emma stood beside him, waiting for him to walk into the room. She didn’t want to be the first to go in. She never knew what to say to these people. She had so many questions that she wanted to ask them – what was it like? Who did you meet? Do you regret it? They swam around in her mind, begging to be released so that they could tumble out of her mouth in a mad rush.
She cleared her throat hesitantly and raised her eyebrows at the tall man beside her. “Come along then,” she gave him a push and they walked quietly over to the bed.
The old man turned to look at them and nodded tiredly. “Here you are then,” his voice was raspy and soft, so soft that they had to lean in to hear him.
“Yes,” Eric forced himself to smile calmly at the old man. How can something like this happen? Only hours ago this man was young and strong. He had his whole life ahead of him and now here he is, wrapped up in white hospital sheets, only an hour to live. “I’m Detective Eric Palmer and this is Emma Squire. We’re here to talk to you about what happened.”
The man waved his hand at them, “Yes yes, I know that.” He took a deep breath; they could hear it whistling through his chest. “What do you want to know?” He coughed loudly and struggled to sit up.
Emma quickly stepped beside him and rearranged his pillows so that he could sit up more. His leathery hand reached out to the small table beside him and Emma picked up the glass of water on it, she tipped it up against his lips and he sipped at the cool liquid.
Eric watched as she delicately handled the situation, helping him as if he were family, instead of a stranger.
“Mike, can you tell us what happened?” Eric asked when the cup of water was placed back upon the table.
Mike laughed bitterly and then coughed. “I was in a park with my girlfriend, Sarah,” his eyes clouded as he spoke her name. “And we heard some weird noises, so we decided to head back to my place.” He paused and drew a deep breath, his hands holding tightly to the sheets. “As we were walking back we saw this….this statue in a garden. Sarah was sure that it hadn’t been there before. I thought she was just being stupid.”
“What did the statue look like?” Emma butted in, leaning forward eagerly. Eric frowned at her and she pulled back slightly, clasping her hands infront of her.
“It was an angel, one of those really nice ones. But it had its hands over its face….sort of like this,” he pulled his hands up and covered his face. His hands lowered slowly as he continued. “I only look away a moment, but when I looked back at it, it was right there.” His eyes became distant as if he were living the moment over again. “It…it was right beside us. Like, I don’t know….like some kind of magic. But its face had changed. It was angry.” He shuddered and fell back against the pillows, consumed by his cough.
Emma grabbed the glass of water again and held it to his dry lips. “Steady,” she soothed him gently, rubbing her hand on his back. He smiled slightly at her as he righted himself in his bed.
“Sarah had been right. She was always right.” He smiled fondly to himself, “She had this knack for knowing when things weren’t right.” Mike shook his head and looked up at Eric and Emma. “The last thing I remember was l blinked. And that was it. I was gone. Sarah was gone. And I had no idea where I was.” A tear spilled down his cheek and he turned away. “I never found her. I don’t know where she went.” He wiped the tear away carefully and turned back to them. “Do you know?”
Eric shook his head. “No, not yet.”
“I never got to see her again.” Mike lamented. He smiled at Emma. “But you look just like her you know. And you act like her. You’re kind, just like she was. And pretty. She was always the prettiest girl to me.”
Emma smiled at him and Eric watched Mike’s expression carefully. His eyes were open wide as he continued to watch Emma. Maybe… Eric shook his head. No. Impossible. He glanced at Emma and then looked back at Mike. Impossible? Is anything really impossible these days?
“This one,” she said as they cam to an open door. The room was empty except for the metal bed with bright white sheets encasing an elderly man.
Eric paused at the door. He watched as the old man shifted slightly in his bed, reached up and scratched his bristly scalp with old hands. Emma stood beside him, waiting for him to walk into the room. She didn’t want to be the first to go in. She never knew what to say to these people. She had so many questions that she wanted to ask them – what was it like? Who did you meet? Do you regret it? They swam around in her mind, begging to be released so that they could tumble out of her mouth in a mad rush.
She cleared her throat hesitantly and raised her eyebrows at the tall man beside her. “Come along then,” she gave him a push and they walked quietly over to the bed.
The old man turned to look at them and nodded tiredly. “Here you are then,” his voice was raspy and soft, so soft that they had to lean in to hear him.
“Yes,” Eric forced himself to smile calmly at the old man. How can something like this happen? Only hours ago this man was young and strong. He had his whole life ahead of him and now here he is, wrapped up in white hospital sheets, only an hour to live. “I’m Detective Eric Palmer and this is Emma Squire. We’re here to talk to you about what happened.”
The man waved his hand at them, “Yes yes, I know that.” He took a deep breath; they could hear it whistling through his chest. “What do you want to know?” He coughed loudly and struggled to sit up.
Emma quickly stepped beside him and rearranged his pillows so that he could sit up more. His leathery hand reached out to the small table beside him and Emma picked up the glass of water on it, she tipped it up against his lips and he sipped at the cool liquid.
Eric watched as she delicately handled the situation, helping him as if he were family, instead of a stranger.
“Mike, can you tell us what happened?” Eric asked when the cup of water was placed back upon the table.
Mike laughed bitterly and then coughed. “I was in a park with my girlfriend, Sarah,” his eyes clouded as he spoke her name. “And we heard some weird noises, so we decided to head back to my place.” He paused and drew a deep breath, his hands holding tightly to the sheets. “As we were walking back we saw this….this statue in a garden. Sarah was sure that it hadn’t been there before. I thought she was just being stupid.”
“What did the statue look like?” Emma butted in, leaning forward eagerly. Eric frowned at her and she pulled back slightly, clasping her hands infront of her.
“It was an angel, one of those really nice ones. But it had its hands over its face….sort of like this,” he pulled his hands up and covered his face. His hands lowered slowly as he continued. “I only look away a moment, but when I looked back at it, it was right there.” His eyes became distant as if he were living the moment over again. “It…it was right beside us. Like, I don’t know….like some kind of magic. But its face had changed. It was angry.” He shuddered and fell back against the pillows, consumed by his cough.
Emma grabbed the glass of water again and held it to his dry lips. “Steady,” she soothed him gently, rubbing her hand on his back. He smiled slightly at her as he righted himself in his bed.
“Sarah had been right. She was always right.” He smiled fondly to himself, “She had this knack for knowing when things weren’t right.” Mike shook his head and looked up at Eric and Emma. “The last thing I remember was l blinked. And that was it. I was gone. Sarah was gone. And I had no idea where I was.” A tear spilled down his cheek and he turned away. “I never found her. I don’t know where she went.” He wiped the tear away carefully and turned back to them. “Do you know?”
Eric shook his head. “No, not yet.”
“I never got to see her again.” Mike lamented. He smiled at Emma. “But you look just like her you know. And you act like her. You’re kind, just like she was. And pretty. She was always the prettiest girl to me.”
Emma smiled at him and Eric watched Mike’s expression carefully. His eyes were open wide as he continued to watch Emma. Maybe… Eric shook his head. No. Impossible. He glanced at Emma and then looked back at Mike. Impossible? Is anything really impossible these days?
♠ ♠ ♠
Ahha!