Background Information: I first wrote this in about 15 pieces, as part of a contest with another writer. It sat, as such, for about five years, then, while I worked as a staff writer at a now defunct site, I decided to ressurect the story, punch it up, and define the characters better than I had originally wrote them. Setting: 1941, those last few days of peace Genre: War, Romance The following work is copyrighted to the author. It is being introduced for the viewing pleasure of WW2f members. Any unauthorized reproduction, in part, or whole, is a violation of copyright law and will be prosecuted. The following is a work of fiction. It's intent is to entertain, not revise or change history. Angels High It had been yet another long night shift at work. Ever since my work had installed the new software, I was elected, through lack of seniority, to monitor the program overnight. As the other shifts had gone, this one was uneventful. Strung out on caffeine, and suppressing underlying anger (at being on nights), I typed the email to my group leader: "Simulation ran fine. Looking forward to full implementation this Friday. Going home now." I logged off, locked up the lab, said goodnight to the night guard, and made my way to the parking lot. The only two cars in the lot belong to me and the guard. Although it's five in the morning, there is a steady flow of traffic on the freeway next to the building. On a Lucy episode, a real estate agent told Lucy to close her eyes and imagine the sound as the ocean. "What a crock" I think as I climb in my car. The local classic rock station comes on as I crank up the car. Rebel JoAnne is still on duty at the station. I like her because she's a classic rock fan. Somehow, she's convinced the station management to stray from those stupid play lists as she plays real classic rock and not just the same forty songs, over and over. Presently, she's playing a cut from Pink Floyd's "Animals" album. It helps me enjoy the ride home better. Pulling into freeway traffic I smile as JoAnne switches songs to an ELO cut. It's a perfect transition. I really enjoy how much she understands music. If I wasn't jazzed on caffeine, I'd be sliding into complete relaxation. I'm thinking of calling JoAnne to thank her when a life changing event suddenly occurs. As if from mid air, the form of a black woman materializes in the passenger seat of my car. Adrenaline surges into my already caffeine polluted bloodstream. I have to fight for control of the car as I muscle the car onto the shoulder. Skidding to a stop I look over and what I see just blows me away. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Who are you, what are you doing in my car, and why do you look like Whoopi Goldberg?" "I'm your fairy godmother" she calmly answers. "Funtime is over. Get out of my car, NOW!!" I scream as I watch her hands for a sign of a weapon. "Will you relax? I really am who I say I am," she says. "Uhh, yeah right. OK, out of the car." "I've been sent to grant you a wish." "And how praytell how are you going to do that?" "Look chump. I know you have a special preference for an earlier time. The Elders have enjoyed your stories and they feel you would write them better if you experienced the time, so I'm going to send you back." "Where's your wand?" "Very funny. Look you're going to have to trust me." "You suddenly appear in my car, out of nowhere, and you tell me that I need to trust you. Fat chance. Now, get out of my car." "OK, I didn't want to do this, I'm going to get personal. You know you were cheated out of the fate you were supposed to have because your parents couldn't solve their problems. You also know that you had a past life and you've been tortured by visions in your dreams. That is what this visit is about. I'm going to help you go back to that time, and experience it. Are you ready to trust me now?" I don't know who she is, or how she knew all that. The only way she could've known all that was to be in my head, in my dreams, and see my thoughts. "OK, I'm ready." "Close your eyes, and relax." I do as she says, but I do place a hand on my wallet.I feel dizzy for a moment. I open my eyes to re-orient myself, and what I see is something that would send any man screaming into the night. I am no longer in my car.I am sitting on a bench in a hallway in a building obviously built in the 1920's or 30's. Placards hang above office doors, with names like Colonel Williams, Major Samples, and Lt. Col. Roberts.I'm in some kind of military headquarters. I look down and realize I'm wearing an open brown leather jacket over a khaki uniform. The nametag on the jacket reads Lt. W. Oefelin. I take stock of the moment and try to think what I should do next. If I'm in this hallway, there must be a reason why. As I come to this realization, the Colonel's office door is opened. A young male in a uniform says:"He'll see you now." I gather myself and stand. My knees are a little weak. I walk into the Colonel's office and deposit myself, at attention in front of the Colonel's desk. "Reporting as ordered sir" I say, although I have no idea what is appropiate in this occasion. The Colonel, an angry looking, thin, white haired man, launches into me. "Do you think this is some kind of joke?" he begins. "In my twenty two years in this man's Army, I have never known a more disrespectful screw up such as yourself. Your little stunt yesterday not only endangered yourself and ten thousand dollars of government property, but you also endangered the lives of your fellow pilots and their airplanes as well. This isn't your first stunt here, but it will be your last. You will be transferred from my squadron to thirty third fighter squadron on Oahu. If I were you, I'd clean up my act immediately, because they don't tolerate your type of stunts there. Sergeant Wilson outside has your transfer orders." I nod my head and back out of his office. The sergeant hands me the orders. I step into the hallway and look them over. I learn a little about myself, and where I'm at. Apparently, it's Saturday November 29, 1941 and I'm on Midway Island. I've just been ordered to fly to Oahu. I have flown a plane, but only for short stints and inflight. I've never flown a plane from takeoff, and I've never landed one. That's problem one. Problem two is I have no idea how to find my quarters. I go outside and wander around until I find a two story barracks looking building marked BOQ. I look around inside until I find a door marked with my name. I go in and find I'm a neat freak. I guess William Oefelin is a screw up in the air, but he's also a neat and orderly person on the ground. I gather my things and head for the runway. I check in at the flight operations center and file a flight plan. I'm relieved when they hand me a map and a compass. I chart the map and find my headings. Nervously, I go outside and find the flight line sergeant. He's a thin looking man, not quite the kind you take for a mechanic. "Got your plane ready sir" he tells me, and I'm relieved when he takes me to the plane. It's a P-40 Warhawk. I try to hide my racing heart as I look over this fine airplane. At the outset of the war, the P-40 was the best America had, although it was inferior in several respects to the Japanese Zero. Within a year, all of the P-40's would be scrap, or relegated to training planes. Since my childhood, I've had a fascination with the P-40. The American Flying Tigers fought the Japanese in China before the war and made the best of it in P-40's. I practically drool over the plane while doing my pre flight check of the plane. With my pre flight done, I climb in the plane and strap myself in. Then I press the ignition button. The Pratt & Whitney 12 cylinder engine coughs, then sputters to life. I check the communications gear and call the tower: "November Papa two niner four four seven to Tower." "November Papa, your flight designation call sign will be Island Flight one seven, copy?" "I copy" "Your runway will be one niner, you are cleared to taxi." I check the indash compass and check it against the issued compass. Seeing a match, I move forward and taxi out to the runway. Finally, the tower clears me to take off. I ease the throttle forward and turn onto the runway. A moment later I push the throttle all the way in and feel the plane vibrate as it accelerates. I pull back on the yoke and feel the plane as it becomes level, then lighter than air as it takes off. I clear the runway, then at one hundred feet, and climbing, I retract the landing gear. I double check the map and correct my heading. At a thousand feet, I level out and ease off the throttle to conserve gas. I wish I had some RUSH to keep me company, but it's thirty years before the age of FM radio. I'm tempted to play with the radio to see what else is out there, but if I get lost, I'm going to need the right frequency. I look at the map margins and notice I'll need a different frequency. I punch it into the radio. I get static, but I can also pick up some voices. It sounds like there is a lot going on. I recall from my history that there was a lot of war preparation before December seventh, it's just that everyone was asleep that fateful morning. The radio traffic keeps me alert and interested the two hours I'm inflight. As I near the island I call on the radio: "Island Flight one seven to radio tower." "Island Flight one seven, standby one." A moment later tower came back:"Island flight, you are cleared for Wheeler Field, runway one five. Adjust your heading and decrease altitude to five hundred, begin your flight glide." I turn the plane and decrease altitude, pulling back on the throttle to decrease speed. I feel my armpits get moist as I realize I'm about to land a plane for the very first time. My arms get tense as I work the throttle and yoke at the same time. As I near the runway, I'm down to eighty miles an hour. Carefully, I set down and pull the throttle all the way back. I'm only going twenty when the tower calls me and tells me to turn right onto the taxiway, I taxi and pick up an escort-a jeep that guides me to a spot to stop. After parking the plane, the jeep takes me to flight control. I'm issued new orders that tells me where to check in and then where to find my barracks. I get another ride to the barracks. My hands are shaking as I sign in at the CQ's quarters. I don't know if it's noticed, but I duck out as quick as I can. I go to my room, set down my gear, lay on the bed and let the adrenaline wear off. It's Sunday night when I'm told where my Squadron's ready room is, and that I'll need to be there the next morning at eight. I get up early Monday morning, eat early at the mess hall, double check my uniform in my room, then decide to go early to the ready room. One only gets one chance to make a first impression, and I'm going to try to make William Oefelin someone with a good work ethic. At the ready room, I meet a Captain Randall Major. He introduces himself as my Squadron Commander. He's a tall well built photogenic man who strikes me as a natural aviator. I notice him size me up as he tells me there'll be a briefing, then the squadron will be going up for a training flight. The flight will be my "check flight". By eight o'clock, the rest of the squadron is in the room. The briefing actually goes rather quickly, dealing with altitudes, procedures, and rules of engagement. After the briefing, Captain Major tells me to fly at the edge of the A flight and mainly observe. Minutes later, we are all in preflight. I walk around and caress my P-40. It's a love affair, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. Just before eight thirty, we are all wheels up and soaring into the Hawiian sky. I had spent much of Sunday sight seeing. I went down to the harbor and watched the fleet. As a kid I had a couple of ship models-battleships that were at Pearl Harbor. Seeing them up close is a treat. Right now, I'm passing over them and it seems surreal. By ten o'clock, we've finished our training flight and we're forming up to return to base. We'll get a generous lunch break, then we'll get some ground school this afternoon to evaluate our flight. I'm getting a little nervous as I think about landing the plane when Captain Major's plane appears on my right wing. He calls me on the radio and tells me he wants to evaluate my skills. I peel off and we head for the north end of the island. He quickly gets on my tail, then tells me to go. He's going to regret that. I put the plane into a dive to gain speed. When we reach 360 miles an hour, I pull up on the air brakes. Major's plane shoots past me. I release the brake and get on his tail. Predictably, he goes into a corkscrewing Immelman maneuver, then a split S. I stay on his tail the whole time. I decide to taunt him: "Is that the best you can do? Im getting bored back here", I yell over the radio. He puts his plane in a dive to gain speed, then pulls up on a loop. I shoot past him and decide to play his gambit differently. I let him think he's going to get on my tail, but I do a half loop and invert my plane. Flying upside down I get him in my sights and yell bang as he passes underneath. While he does a loop to turn back to look for me, I revert, then dive. I go down a thousand feet, then decide to climb. Predictably, he passes overhead. "Bang, bang, bang" I yell on the radio. "Where are you?" he yells back. "Look behind you", I reply. By the time he looks back, I'm behind him. "Where did you learn to fly like that?" he asks. "Would you believe the movies?" I answer. "OK, no joy, return to base" he orders. We fly back to the airfield. My landing considerably more cautious and slower than his. I'm getting the hang of this, but it's going to take time. He's waiting for me when I bring the plane to a stop. "That was damn good flying" he says, "I was told you weren't any good." "That was their opinion." "Effective today, right now, you are A flight leader." "I thought Bill Richards was flight leader." He was, but he's textbook. I think you have abilities. Just don't make me regret my decision. By the way, can I buy you a beer?" "I don't drink, but you can buy me a steak. Know where we can get a good one?I'm new to town." Major laughs, "Let's go into town, I know just the place." Twenty minutes later, we pull into a dusty parking lot outside an old looking stucco building, weirdly painted green and white. Behind the bar are a white haired couple. "A couple of steak specials Ernie", Major orders. The old man disappears into the kitchen. A moment later, a stunning vision comes out of the kitchen. She looks to be 15 or 16. She is under five feet, but she has a round face, sparkly eyes, long brown hair, and full pouty lips. She's wearing a white apron over a yellow blouse. I am instantly smitten. Major notices my gaze. "Do you just like her, or do you like em young?" he asks. "She's....she's like someone I know from another place, another time." Just then she notices my gaze and smiles. "Go say hello to her" Major says. I remember that it's not a crime in this era to be attracted to someone her age, to marry someone her age. I try to think up an approach, something brilliant like, "Oh yeah, I know you from the twenty first century." How could I be so stupid? I need a gesture. Flowers? No that's probably lame. I didn't bring anything I can offer, then I notice it, in the corner, an upright piano. My choir director forced me to take years of music lessons. It was a violation of the man code to enjoy the music of Barry Manilow, but here, now, in this place I could demonstrate the several songs I learned. Besides, if she's related to the old folks, this could be an ice breaker. I go over to the piano, try a few keys, and find the piano tuned. I sit down on the bench and open with the Chopin Prelude in C minor, then I let the melody take over and I segue into the intro of Barry's "Could it be Magic" as I sing the first verse, then add in the "Mandy" medley, finishing the medley with Magic. I finish with a trio of dramatic piano trills, holding the last one for effect, then closing with a major chord. I hear applause and look up to see I'm getting a standing ovation from Major, the old couple, and the girl. I get up and slowly walk over to the girl. She's surprised at my approach. I take one of her tiny hands in mine, lift it, and gently kiss it. She blushed. "That song was for you" I tell her. She smiled, and ran for the kitchen. During our meal, the girl materialized several times, only to look at me, make eye contact, blush, and run back into the kitchen. As I finished my lunch, with racing heart, I decide to take a gamble. I caught the girl as she came out of the kitchen. "Excuse me young lady, I would be most be most honored if you would join me for dinner tonight." Looking hesitant, she looked back towards the old man, then the woman. With their eyes, they commuinicated to her.She looked at me. "OK" she agreed. "I'll pick you up at six, here." "OK" The afternoon passed too slowly. I wrestled with where to take her. Major suggested a restaurant called The Harbor Club. The Harbor Club looked out onto the harbor.I was thinking about the Officer's Club. I was still undecided when I picked her up, but it was the dress she wore that made up my mind. It was a blue dress that not only made her eyes sparkle and perfectly complimented her cherubic face, but it just said Harbor Club to me. The old folks who own the restaurant turned out to be her grandparents. They pointed out that it was a school night, and therefore she needed to be home by eight thirty. I didn't have reservations at the Harbor Club, but we were given excellent seats next to a large window with a view of the harbor. The service was also excellent. Dinner also gave us a chance to get to know each other. She was a seventh grader, and the daughter of missionaries. Her parents were in China, and she had only heard from them sporadically. I wanted to make an anti religious remark, but I held my tongue. After dinner, we had time for a quick walk on the beach. I got to hold her hand. I thought was the most perfect moment in my life, I was wrong. Suddenly, she asked me if I could be anywhere in the world, where would I be. "Are you kidding?", I told her, "I'm in paradise with the most beautiful girl in the world. I'm good." "No, silly, really." OK, so she missed the heartfelt compliment. "Alright" I confessed, "Los Angeles, but it would be empty without you. You just make everything better." We stopped and locked eyes. I leaned in and kissed her. The kiss was perfect, moist, and giving. Suddenly, she pulled back and giggled. Placing a hand near her mouth she said:"I don't do that on first dates. I don't want you to think I'm a bad girl." "No, you're not." When I dropped her off at the restaurant, with ten minutes to spare, I got another kiss, but it was rushed. Remembering her scent, and high on her pheramones, I drove back to the base that night, taking hours to come down off my high. I saw her the next night, and the next. Love quickly blossomed between us. I was in paradise, in more ways than one. It felt great to date someone so much younger and not have the scorn of society. During our dates that week, we only drew one disapproving stare, but it was from a middle aged woman. I expected as much, but the approving looks of many, and the support of Lia's grandparents gave my heart hope. What was also great was the lack of pressure involving sex. In twenty first century dating, there is pressure to have sex, as often as on the first date, and no later than the third date. In dating Lia, it was ok to get the occasional kiss, to hold her hand, to hold her close, but to know she appreciated and returned the affection, without expectation of sex. My work didn't escape my attention. It was getting late in the week and I knew that the Japanese task force was on it's way to Hawaii. I had strongly hinted to Major that a weekend training session, especially on Sunday morning, was necessary. Major had turned down my idea, especially in light of the fact that a Battle of the Bands was scheduled for Saturday night. Lia had already heard about the contest between bands from the battleships, and she was jazzed about going. I looked forward to spending all of Saturday with her, but it was with a heavy heart. With a last ditch effort, I tried to convince Major that there should be an air acrobat team and the best pilots should come out Sunday morning. That idea, too, was nixed. Going behind Major's back, I tried to convince a few of the pilots to fly with me on Sunday on the premise of teaching dogfighting tricks. The earliest someone would agree was early afternoon. So, it was with a sense of impending dread that I picked up Lia that night. She picked up on my dour mood immediately, and asked me several times what was wrong. Looking in her sparkly eyes, I lied to her and told her:"nothing". Finally, I told her I was just pre occupied thinking about tomorrow. She exploded with enthusiasm, like a young girl would, talking about the songs she hoped to hear and the musical performances she hoped to see. Her enthusiasm gave me hope that even if the events of thirty six hours were to be catastrophic, at the very least I would have the love of a very wonderful and beautiful girl. Saturday morning, she surprised me by wearing a khaki uniform, very similar to the service uniforms Army personnel wore, with the exception of a khaki skirt that went to mid calf. "What's this?" I asked. "Ladies junior auxillary service", she answered, "tomorrow at church we start the toy drive for the less fortunate kids, but since you're taking me to the base today, I thought I should fit in." All I could do was give her a hug, and smile. Minutes later we were at the base. I showed her my plane, the flight operations center, where my barracks was (it was considered in poor taste to show a young lady your room without impuning her reputation), and then the messhall, where we had an early lunch with a few pilots and support officers, who were only too eager to entertain her with stories. After lunch, we watched some of the planes come and go. Then we went into town to do some window shopping. So far, she hadn't noticed a bulge in my pocket. On Thursday, I had bought her an engagement ring. I had thought to myself to propose if the moment presented itself. After window shopping, we returned to the base. Maybe it was because I was high on her pheromones, but I risked a trip to the brig by arranging a "check flight". It was late afternoon and hardly anyone was watching. I snuck Lia into my plane. I had her duck down, even though she was on my lap. I let her sit up on takeoff. Soon after takeoff she said:"I can fly a plane." "Where did you learn to fly a plane?" "A girl has her secrets. Don't be nosy." She took the yoke, and lived up to her word. She even took the plane through a loop and several steep banks, although I noticed she was careful, still, she had adequate pilot skills. I let her fly for 15 minutes, then I took the plane back. We landed without anyone troubling us. We grabbed a quick bite at the messhall, then took off to the battle of the bands. We were able to get good seats, but they were only for temporary purposes as we danced often. My dancing lessons paid off as we did the charleston, the cha cha, jitterbugged,and boogie woogied. The evening took a surprising and sudden turn during an intermission between bands. The master of ceremonies for the event announced that there was a "budding musician" among the pilots, then called me up on stage. "You arranged this, didn't you?" I accused of Lia. "I had nothing to do with it, I swear", she replied. "I'm not going through this alone. If I have to go up there, you have to go with me." She was hesitant, but obediently followed. I was ushered to a grand piano onstage. I pulled up a stool used earlier by a singer. I sat her next to the grand, then sat on the bench and announced:"This is an oldie, but goodie where I come from." Then I beagan the opening notes of a Journey song, Faithfully. Lia's eyes grew misty during the song, knowing it was meant for her. What I did next, caught her by surprise. I went to a knee and pulled out the box. "Lia, a week ago my life was empty. Now it's full of purpose and meaning because of you. I can't consider life without you. Will you marry me?" With her eyes watery, and her face full of happiness, she nodded eagerly. "Yes" she squealed. I took her left hand and slid the ring on. Rising to my feet, I sealed our covenant with a kiss. We left the event soon after. Lia couldn't stop looking at her left hand, and it's new accessory. She was weirdly quiet, but it was the quiet of someone mulling a million new ideas and not knowing which question to ask first. We went for a walk on the beach. Under the half moon, I took her in my arms and kissed her. "There's something very important I need to tell you, and you have to trust me, completely, ok?" Lia nodded. "Tomorrow morning, early, something awful is going to happen. I need you to promise me, that no matter what you see or hear, no matter what, that you stay home. Do I have your promise?" Her face full of concern, she asked:"What's going to happen?" "The less you know, the better. It's just important that you stay home, stay safe. Do I have your promise?" "Are you going to leave me? What are you going to do?" "Just promise me that you'll stay home. I'll tell you everything after, ok?" "OK" she agreed with a tone that gave me concern. Changing subjects, I asked:"Where do you want to get married?" "I don't know. I just don't know", then she attached herself tightly to my left side. I took her home, heeding her grandfather's advice to have her home by ten. I drove back to the base deciding on my itinerary for the next morning. To attack the incoming Japanese, I would need to be on the north end of the island by seven thirty. That means I'll have to be wheels up at seven fifteen. Flight operations at seven to file my flight plan. Breakfast at six thirty, which means showered and dressed, I need to get up at five fifty. ***************************** The barracks was tomb quiet when I got up in the morning. Showering, shaving, and dressing went quicker than I thought. The cook on duty in the messhall gave me dirty look when I disrupted his solitude. I quickly downed bacon, eggs, and toast he cooked for me. I was a little ahead of time when I approached flight operations. A familiar voice broke my focus: "Hey fly boy!!" I turned to see Lia between a couple of cars. She was in the uniform again. "What are you doing here?" I asked. "I thought about what you said last night. If something was going to happen, I knew you'd be in your plane. That's why I came here, to be with you." "You have to leave", I warned her. "Why?" "It's too dangerous for you to stay. You have to go." "What's going to happen?" "I can't tell you." "Is it a military secret?" I paused, not knowing how to answer the question. She lifted her left hand. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm wearing your ring", she began, "soon, I'll bear your name. After that I'll give you children. I think I deserve the truth." I swallowed hard, then wondered if I was going to lose her with the truth. I took a roll of the dice and told her. "My name isn't William Oefelin, it's Steven Fuller. I'm not from this time era, I'm from the future. I was sent here to observe and learn, but the punch line is that I have no idea how to get back, and as we speak there's three hundred and fifty Japanese planes on the way here. Thousands of people are going to die. I've tried warning the other pilots, but no one will listen to me. I could just stay in the barracks and act like I don't know, but I can't do that. I'm going up. If I have to take on the entire Japanese navy all by myself, then so be it. This base is going to get pounded. If you stay here, you'll probably be killed. I can't live with that. That's why I need you to go home." "I'm going with you." "No." "I can fly a plane, you know that." "You're not trained____" With tear filled eyes she screamed:"I'M AN AMERICAN DAMMIT!!" I took her in my arms. She cried for a minute. When she was quiet, I caved. "Alright, listen". I told her, "the only way this is going to work is if you walk off out of view of flight operations. I need to go in and file a flight plan. You wait for me over there", (indicating a place around the corner), "and I'll be back to get you in a few minutes." I went into flight operations. A portly sergeant inside, who had seen our scene outside, asked:"Girl problems, huh?" "You have no idea." I filed the flight plan, then found Lia outside. I led her to my plane, then looking around to make sure we weren't being watched, I got her into the plane next to mine. I strapped her in and gave her a quick run through, then went to my own plane. Five minutes later we were on the taxiway. Lia discretely stayed off the radio. Wheels up, we flipped over to a frequency I knew wasn't monitored. It's a frequency squadron leaders use to talk to one another in training squadrons. We turned north and prepared for the fight of our lives. We climbed to fifteen thousand feet and we saw the specks in the distance. We climbed into a cloud and flew so that we skirted the cloud. I made sure to stay on the west side of the cloud so that we would be in shadow, and not spotlight ourselves in the light of the rising sun. Our ruse worked to perfection. The high level bombers passed under us. We peeled off and dove at the left side of a flight. With Lia on my left wing, we opened fire. We raked the first plane, but as we began on the second plane, there was a tremendous explosion. The flash was so bright I closed my eyes. When I opened my eyes, I was in my car alongside the freeway. Whoopi was still in the passenger seat. "How long was I gone?" I asked. "Just a minute", she answered. "Was it real?" "It was very real." "Where's Lia?" "History records that William Oeferlin and Lia Brezinski were killed in the attack, look it up." I felt like my heart had been dipped in acid. I felt an emptiness within that I had never felt before. I was back in the present, but what I had left behind was so perfect, so beautiful-I would never be able to find anything like it ever again. I felt so alone. I became aware of Whoopi calling my name over and over. I came back from the space that I had retreated into. I turned and looked at her. When she knew she had my attention, she said something powerful. "Steven, listen to me. Don't dwell on the past. Don't torture yourself with 'what ifs'. You'll only hurt yourself, and that's not what this was about. You were given a gift. You had a trip to the past and you saw what no one else your age has ever seen. You learn and improve from adventures. You will become stronger and better for having lived it.Remember this, you have a destiny. It is your responsibility to find and live your destiny. Other people are counting on you. Don't let them down. Don't let me down. Don't let yourself down." She suddenly disappeared from my passenger seat, vanishing into the ethers of a weekday morning. I sat there for a minute, looking at that empty seat. I considered her words, gathered myself, and put the car into gear. I drove home. It only took minutes for the four walls to start closing in. Feeling suffocated, I got up and drove to the only place I knew I'd find comfort. My church is only minutes from where I live. I parked outside and went into the sanctuary. It is a spacious and beautiful place to contemplate. The wooden walls, stained glass windows, and stillness bring comfort. I sat there quietly for fifteen minutes when the church pastor walked in. "Are you OK son?" he asked. "No, I'm not." "Would you like to talk?" "I'm not ready." "You know I'm just down the hall." "I know, thanks." I gave him a smile and nod. He left me alone. I looked up and saw that the mid morning sun was streaming through the circular stained glass sky light. I actually lost track of time as I slipped into a state of semi conciousness. When I came back, my gaze fell on the piano next to the organ. I got up and walked to the piano. Sitting on the bench, I looked at the keys for a long minute. I took a deep breath and started to play the Barry Manilow medley, this time I didn't sing. While I played, a little girl, maybe four years old, came in and sat on the pews where I had been. She calmly sat there and listened until I finished. Then she got up and walked over. "That was pretty music" she said. "Thank you" I replied. "Why are you so sad?" she asked. "My girlfriend died". "I'm sorry" she said as she climbed up on the bench. She gave me a long and heartfelt hug. Pulling back, she said:"I hope you feel better." "Thank you" I answered. "I have to go" she said as she climbed down and ambled off. I watched her disappear into the hallway. I felt renewed. When a friend was in a similar circumstance, he became bitter and questioned if there was a just God. He lost his faith for a while. I came here today seeking an answer, an affirmation, a sign. It arrived in a most unexpected way. I don't know much about the universe, but I now know that one thing is true: Angels do exist.
Wow, LCP, nice and lengthy story! How long did it take you? The idea of going back in time and doing stuff is a bit of a cliche, but you put a nice twist on it when you had Steven go back in time and live another soldier's life, as well as love the person Lt. Oefelin did. Did Lia and William exist? But anyway, it was a good read with realistic wording and stuff. One suggestion: Watch your typing. You left out a few punctuation marks. Thanks for the comment on ACJ!
Not finished it as I've got to go and get some stuff done, but I like the beginning. One thing to watch is that you change tenses from time to time, the second paragraph goes from past tense to present which is a bit odd.
1) My English teachers have always marveled at my imagination, but shook their heads at my less than sparkling command of grammar. I do need a proofreader. 2) It took about 16-20 hours to storyboard the story, another 16-18 to type it. 3) Bill Oefelin was a name in the news when I wrote the story. Lia is my wife. I have a series of Lia stories. She loves that I imagine her in all sorts of heroic situations. She's a pilot in real life (flies for a charter airline), but she thinks like a guy, talks like a guy, but looks like a Goddess (it's not just the husband speaking, she gets hit on every day, but handles it really well).
