HeartBeats - Short Story 2

Flash Fiction, Short Stories, Wattpad, Maria Bernard

Welcome to Sunday Shorts

Today’s Story is…
Interview With An Angel by Maria Bernard

“Ready? Wonderful, let’s do this. But on my terms.”
“Terms? But this is my project! Stop being such a bully!”
“My way, or the highway, sunshine. Deal with it.”
“Fine then, go on! You know what I was going to ask already. You always know everything.”

I can’t fight the smile that tugs on my lips at the return of her ire. My charge, my assigned one… she’s a firecracker and I love that about her. Her age at thirteen human years cracks me up. This is my first teenager and I’m thrilled and honoured to be in the presence of one such as this. Tara wasn’t always this way. When I first set eyes on her, she was no larger than my palm. I hadn’t expected to feel anything close to that of which hit me when she stared up at me with those eyes of blue. Then again, I am relatively new at this. In Angel years, I’m not that much older than she is.

When she turned two, she fascinated me to no end. Human children are funny little creatures, I must say. Take Tara, for example. At two, her head being so disproportionally bigger than the rest of her body, she teetered about the world, always on the verge of falling over. I recall being dumbfounded and overwhelmed, thinking how on earth would I ever keep her upright.

I didn’t expect to enjoy the company of a girl child until Tara was placed under my watch. Now, I couldn’t fathom dealing with anyone else.

“Well? Start!”

I nod and take a seat in the chair facing her. She has her pen poised, sitting at her desk. I’ve agreed to help with her school project. An interview. She could have interviewed anyone, but she chose me. Since I’ve already broken the golden rule, I saw no way out of this one. Being me, I couldn’t resist the challenge.

“I can’t simply start… You start… Ask me your questions.” I point my long finger at her and she furrows her brow, rolls her eyes then turns to her papers.

“Okay fine, this is silly though, you already know what I’m going to ask!”

“The assignment,” I remind her. “Is to interview. Therefore, you must ask the questions.”

She gives me that withering stare I’ve come to know and love. After an overdramatic eye roll, she begins.

“Fine… What is your name and what do you do?”

“Wonderful,” I say as I lean forward and rest my chin in my hands, my elbows on my knees, my blue-black hair hanging forward, shrouding my peripheral. My vision is solely on my interviewer, yet my eyes lose focus as I prepare to answer.

“My name is Victor and I am an Angel, of the Guardian variety…”