Angels Don't Have Wings - Take 2
by Ron A. Sewell
Genre: Humour
Swearwords: One mild one.
Description: Doris and Elsie break the rules again to give everyone a second chance.
_____________________________________________________________________
“Come on Elsie, there’s a rush on,” said Doris. “Some lost souls are moving about the Tower of London causing mayhem.”
“What’s the blinking hurry?” asked Elsie, as she looked into the mirror at her hair. “That hairdresser, ‘Bubble Cuts R Us’, has messed up my hair for our advancement ceremony to Angels First Class. I definitely asked for pure silver and she’s done it platinum. And have you seen my handbag, Doris? Can’t go anywhere without that.”
“It’s where it always is, on your arm. Now get a move on or Gabby will go mad.”
At the Tower of London, they gathered together the wandering souls and led them directly to the escalator. “Everybody up,” shouted Elsie.
Doris looked at her. “I wish you wouldn’t do that, it does me ‘ead in.”
“Oh, it’s only a bit of fun. D’you know that since you arrived, you’ve got far too serious?”
Together, they walked onto the heavenly staircase. At the top, they went to their rooms to get ready.
Arthur Murdock slept badly. With a pounding headache, he woke at six o’clock feeling as always, bad-tempered. Strapping on his artificial foot, he moved towards the bathroom. There in the mirror was an old man; someone he hated. With his right hand he stroked his bald head knowing today would be like yesterday and tomorrow, a waste of bloody time. For many years, each morning he wished he were dead. No one visited anymore because since the accident, he shouted abuse at every caller. Their help or pity he didn’t need. Isabel had died because of him. Returning to his unmade bed, he picked up his clothes from the floor and dressed. Two large glasses of cheap whisky and a cigarette were his morning ritual instead of breakfast. The sun filtered through dirty windows bringing a thought to Arthur. “I think I’ll go fishing.”
Unwashed, he pulled on his thick overcoat, grabbed his basket and rod, went out into the street and walked towards his favourite spot on the river. Ambling along, with a cigarette hanging from his mouth, his mind wandered back to what might have been. Memories of the motor cycle accident were stuck in his brain. At first, they were horribly painful and he wondered if he could ever live with them. Time had passed and it didn’t hurt so much; well that’s what he told himself. Even so, they seemed to erupt when he wasn’t ready.
Two young boys, playing on a homemade raft attached to the riverbank, noticed him and hid behind holly bushes. They knew from past experience not to get too close to the drunken mad man.
Arthur didn’t care; they were far enough away not to bother him so for once, he said nothing. His favourite spot on the water’s edge was a secluded hollow shielded by trees, overlooking the weir. Here he could cast his line, smoke, drink, sleep and nobody bothered him. Often he thought it would be a nice place to die.
“Elsie, what on earth are you doing? You’ve been rummaging around on the floor for ages?”
“I can’t find my shoes.”
“You silly old woman, you’re wearing them!”
“Oh, so I am.”
“Come on or we’ll be late for the ceremony.”
With purpose in their stride, they made their way to the cloud-enclosed arena where others waited patiently.
Beep, beep, beep. “Elsie, is that your mobile? I told you not to bring it.”
“It’s switched off but the text came through anyway.”
With a flash of lightning, a savage crash of thunder came.
“You silly woman, read the damn thing. I think Gabby’s got a bit of a moody on,” said Doris.
They looked up at the silver lined clouds. “I think our promotion just fell to earth.”
“Hang on, it’s important,” said Elsie.
“Don’t tell me it’s near water, Elsie. My arthritis is playing up already. How many this time?”
“Two boys. That’s strange, Gabby has put a question mark at the end. I wonder why?”
At the edge of the river, Elsie and Doris looked around for their charges.
“Is this the right place, Elsie?”
“It must be. Gabby never gets anything wrong.”
“Wait a minute. I think our boys are on their way.”
“Hey, mister. Help, help,” shouted the two boys from their makeshift raft drifting rapidly towards the weir.
Arthur peered at the sky through the criss cross of power lines that stretched across the river. Everything suddenly felt so simple after life’s complexities. Glancing up stream, he saw the boys long before he heard their cries. “Stupid kids, what do they think they’re playing at?” He wound in his line; the bait had gone and the wet hook glistened in the sun.
To his left lay another empty whisky bottle and he closed his eyes wanting to sleep.
“Help, help,” came shouts filled with fear.
“Shit,” muttered Arthur. “They’ll be going over the weir any second.”
For the first time in forty years, he thought of someone else. Throwing off his coat, he hit the water in an almost perfect dive at the same time as the raft went over. The ice cold water made him shiver but with strong strokes of his arms and determination, he swam for the boys, grabbing one then the other. The backstroke had been his medal-winning event and even with only one good foot, he powered against the current towards the shore.
Elsie and Doris moved towards the water’s edge and watched the life and death struggle.
“Are you sure we have to collect two boys, Elsie?”
“That’s what Gabby’s message said.”
Suddenly an intense pain destroyed Arthur’s momentum. He wanted to let go but knew if he did the boys would be swept away. The current began to push them from the bank. Three helpless individuals drifted rapidly down-stream into deeper water.
“We have to do something, Doris.”
The expression on her face did not alter. “I don’t think I’m allowed to do this but, when needs must.” With a sweep of her right arm, the two boys and Arthur were safely on the bank. Nothing moved, not even the trees in the stiff breeze. Doris had frozen time.
She pointed a finger at Arthur; her longest and most penetrating and jabbed him with it. “Wake up, Arthur. Look at me.”
He sat up blinking. “Who are you?” His anger was gone as too the pain from his chest and, amazingly, he was stone cold sober.
“We are your guardian angels but can you think of any reason why you should live?” asked Doris.
“No,” was his immediate reply. Turning his head, he looked at the two boys, “but those two deserve a long happy life. Me, I killed my fiancé and don’t care. Yes, I’d be happy to die.”
Doris moved Elsie to one side.
“What’s up, Doris? What are you doing? We have to take two back.”
“Giving two lads another chance, Elsie. Whatever happens, I think our hero deserves something.” She waved her right arm and the boys began coughing but Arthur remained motionless.
His spirit looked on and he was aware that for the first time in a long while, he was proud. Smiling at Doris, he said, “I see you’ve fixed my foot.”
“We’ve done more than that. Turn around.”
Arthur turned to see Isabel, his fiancée.
For a moment, Doris let them hold each other. “Arthur, despite your self-pitying and miserable existence, you were prepared to give your life to save those boys. I’ll be in serious trouble when I get back but Elsie and I are going to grant you and Isabel a second chance.”
“What do you mean?” asked Arthur.
We’re sending you both back to be reborn. Maybe you’ll meet again, maybe not. Somehow, I think you will.”
Holding Isabel’s hand, he asked, “What happens to the boys?”
Doris looked at Elsie, smiled and then said to Arthur, “Oh, they both learn to swim!”
Swearwords: One mild one.
Description: Doris and Elsie break the rules again to give everyone a second chance.
_____________________________________________________________________
“Come on Elsie, there’s a rush on,” said Doris. “Some lost souls are moving about the Tower of London causing mayhem.”
“What’s the blinking hurry?” asked Elsie, as she looked into the mirror at her hair. “That hairdresser, ‘Bubble Cuts R Us’, has messed up my hair for our advancement ceremony to Angels First Class. I definitely asked for pure silver and she’s done it platinum. And have you seen my handbag, Doris? Can’t go anywhere without that.”
“It’s where it always is, on your arm. Now get a move on or Gabby will go mad.”
At the Tower of London, they gathered together the wandering souls and led them directly to the escalator. “Everybody up,” shouted Elsie.
Doris looked at her. “I wish you wouldn’t do that, it does me ‘ead in.”
“Oh, it’s only a bit of fun. D’you know that since you arrived, you’ve got far too serious?”
Together, they walked onto the heavenly staircase. At the top, they went to their rooms to get ready.
Arthur Murdock slept badly. With a pounding headache, he woke at six o’clock feeling as always, bad-tempered. Strapping on his artificial foot, he moved towards the bathroom. There in the mirror was an old man; someone he hated. With his right hand he stroked his bald head knowing today would be like yesterday and tomorrow, a waste of bloody time. For many years, each morning he wished he were dead. No one visited anymore because since the accident, he shouted abuse at every caller. Their help or pity he didn’t need. Isabel had died because of him. Returning to his unmade bed, he picked up his clothes from the floor and dressed. Two large glasses of cheap whisky and a cigarette were his morning ritual instead of breakfast. The sun filtered through dirty windows bringing a thought to Arthur. “I think I’ll go fishing.”
Unwashed, he pulled on his thick overcoat, grabbed his basket and rod, went out into the street and walked towards his favourite spot on the river. Ambling along, with a cigarette hanging from his mouth, his mind wandered back to what might have been. Memories of the motor cycle accident were stuck in his brain. At first, they were horribly painful and he wondered if he could ever live with them. Time had passed and it didn’t hurt so much; well that’s what he told himself. Even so, they seemed to erupt when he wasn’t ready.
Two young boys, playing on a homemade raft attached to the riverbank, noticed him and hid behind holly bushes. They knew from past experience not to get too close to the drunken mad man.
Arthur didn’t care; they were far enough away not to bother him so for once, he said nothing. His favourite spot on the water’s edge was a secluded hollow shielded by trees, overlooking the weir. Here he could cast his line, smoke, drink, sleep and nobody bothered him. Often he thought it would be a nice place to die.
“Elsie, what on earth are you doing? You’ve been rummaging around on the floor for ages?”
“I can’t find my shoes.”
“You silly old woman, you’re wearing them!”
“Oh, so I am.”
“Come on or we’ll be late for the ceremony.”
With purpose in their stride, they made their way to the cloud-enclosed arena where others waited patiently.
Beep, beep, beep. “Elsie, is that your mobile? I told you not to bring it.”
“It’s switched off but the text came through anyway.”
With a flash of lightning, a savage crash of thunder came.
“You silly woman, read the damn thing. I think Gabby’s got a bit of a moody on,” said Doris.
They looked up at the silver lined clouds. “I think our promotion just fell to earth.”
“Hang on, it’s important,” said Elsie.
“Don’t tell me it’s near water, Elsie. My arthritis is playing up already. How many this time?”
“Two boys. That’s strange, Gabby has put a question mark at the end. I wonder why?”
At the edge of the river, Elsie and Doris looked around for their charges.
“Is this the right place, Elsie?”
“It must be. Gabby never gets anything wrong.”
“Wait a minute. I think our boys are on their way.”
“Hey, mister. Help, help,” shouted the two boys from their makeshift raft drifting rapidly towards the weir.
Arthur peered at the sky through the criss cross of power lines that stretched across the river. Everything suddenly felt so simple after life’s complexities. Glancing up stream, he saw the boys long before he heard their cries. “Stupid kids, what do they think they’re playing at?” He wound in his line; the bait had gone and the wet hook glistened in the sun.
To his left lay another empty whisky bottle and he closed his eyes wanting to sleep.
“Help, help,” came shouts filled with fear.
“Shit,” muttered Arthur. “They’ll be going over the weir any second.”
For the first time in forty years, he thought of someone else. Throwing off his coat, he hit the water in an almost perfect dive at the same time as the raft went over. The ice cold water made him shiver but with strong strokes of his arms and determination, he swam for the boys, grabbing one then the other. The backstroke had been his medal-winning event and even with only one good foot, he powered against the current towards the shore.
Elsie and Doris moved towards the water’s edge and watched the life and death struggle.
“Are you sure we have to collect two boys, Elsie?”
“That’s what Gabby’s message said.”
Suddenly an intense pain destroyed Arthur’s momentum. He wanted to let go but knew if he did the boys would be swept away. The current began to push them from the bank. Three helpless individuals drifted rapidly down-stream into deeper water.
“We have to do something, Doris.”
The expression on her face did not alter. “I don’t think I’m allowed to do this but, when needs must.” With a sweep of her right arm, the two boys and Arthur were safely on the bank. Nothing moved, not even the trees in the stiff breeze. Doris had frozen time.
She pointed a finger at Arthur; her longest and most penetrating and jabbed him with it. “Wake up, Arthur. Look at me.”
He sat up blinking. “Who are you?” His anger was gone as too the pain from his chest and, amazingly, he was stone cold sober.
“We are your guardian angels but can you think of any reason why you should live?” asked Doris.
“No,” was his immediate reply. Turning his head, he looked at the two boys, “but those two deserve a long happy life. Me, I killed my fiancé and don’t care. Yes, I’d be happy to die.”
Doris moved Elsie to one side.
“What’s up, Doris? What are you doing? We have to take two back.”
“Giving two lads another chance, Elsie. Whatever happens, I think our hero deserves something.” She waved her right arm and the boys began coughing but Arthur remained motionless.
His spirit looked on and he was aware that for the first time in a long while, he was proud. Smiling at Doris, he said, “I see you’ve fixed my foot.”
“We’ve done more than that. Turn around.”
Arthur turned to see Isabel, his fiancée.
For a moment, Doris let them hold each other. “Arthur, despite your self-pitying and miserable existence, you were prepared to give your life to save those boys. I’ll be in serious trouble when I get back but Elsie and I are going to grant you and Isabel a second chance.”
“What do you mean?” asked Arthur.
We’re sending you both back to be reborn. Maybe you’ll meet again, maybe not. Somehow, I think you will.”
Holding Isabel’s hand, he asked, “What happens to the boys?”
Doris looked at Elsie, smiled and then said to Arthur, “Oh, they both learn to swim!”
About the Author
Ron A. Sewell was born in Leith, Edinburgh. At the age of fourteen, he ran away from home. Heading for the south of France, he found work as a deckhand on luxury yachts. On his return to the United Kingdom, he enlisted in the Royal Navy, eventually becoming a commissioned officer. During his career, he travelled the world, qualifying as an engineer, deck officer, boarding officer, a diver, and parachutist and for a time part of an Air Sea Rescue team. This has given him much experience and many ideas.
Ron has been writing for twenty-three years. He has written numerous short stories (many of them published) and five complete novels to date. Two of the novels, entitled The Collectors, are currently with his agent, who is attempting to sell them to a publisher.
Ron has been writing for twenty-three years. He has written numerous short stories (many of them published) and five complete novels to date. Two of the novels, entitled The Collectors, are currently with his agent, who is attempting to sell them to a publisher.