There once was a big angel with a little head, with a long slant to it. His name was No-name el [everyone called him NN for short, because he never had time to give himself a more proper name. He was always writing night and day. He was told by his many friends in heaven that his head was shrinking because of too much thinking. But he paid them no attention. He liked to write. The bad thing was he did not allow much time for fellowship.
One day Asorel, a small angel that hung around with Serr el and a few other angels, commented to No-name el, saying in essence, that he had forever to write, and create, but one must grab the moment. Live this life, I mean he was so busy not living, the angels got thinking; what was the sense for him to have been given the gift of life. Fly around the heavens and planets and enjoy the blessings of the Universe, this was what the other angels were trying to tell him.
Asorel, commented to NN, (as if he had not heard a wo rd that was uttered to him) you go fly around now, Ive got to get a new story out for the library. And so Asorel left a little sad, but was happy she got to even speak to him; usually he would not even look up, lest of all listen.
The Wait and the Writing
After they said, well, goodbye, NN went back to writing, and writing and more writing. And the little angel hid behind a door by his room, waiting, and waiting and waiting: waiting for what you might be asking, and your guess would have been as good as mine at the time, but of course, now I know, since I am writing this. All of a sudden, she got bored waiting, and so she picked one her feathered wings stuck under her little feet, and started writing also. Kind of like: if you cant beat them, then join them.
As her friends came to see her, they tried to pull her away from her writings, and she was as stubborn as a donkey with big wings. She would not move. During all this time, NN would look behind him n oticing she was not waiting like she used to, and was writing and waiting, just like him. But what was she writing about he wondered.
And so, NN stopped his work, walked over to Asorel, and asked:What are you writing about? She looked up at him kind of in disbelief that he had stopped everything to check on her writings. And she replied, I am writing about you writing, and how one misses out on life. That one must live it. That reading 1000-books is not equal to experiencing the real thing.
Oh, he commentedthen with a kind of a hummmmmmmm he said, The story sounds promising, and most interesting, can I read it?
Sure, said the little angel with a pony tail. And as he took the l5000-pages she had written in the past 150-years while she was waiting, NN started reading. It became very interesting to him; so interesting, he couldnt put the book down. She talked about her trips to Malta, to England, and Avalon, as she had asked for such assignments from God to do them: also to world monuments, in Cambodia, and to Peru where she was fascinated with its history. And to the many Solar Systems she had been to. He was so fascinated with it he sat down for two years going over it and over it. Then all of a sudden he stood up.
Gee, he commented, It was really good.
As he went to start writing again, he couldnt think of anything to write.
Asorel, he asked, would you mind if I accompanied you on a few of your trips, so I can get some fresh ideas on what to write? adding, I am lost for any good ideas. I need to experience them. And so with the flick of a finger they were off into the Universe. They first stopped on Mars, then Saturn, then Earths moon. And then all over the universe, even some places man has not discovered such as the planets Moiromma, and SSARG. Somehow, his formal reasoning had been changed, and thus, slowly like cooking a frog alive, the fire was increased to where his life needed more in it to p roduce more out of it.
As the months went by, and they both started putting away more adventures, NNs head went back to a normal size. When they got back to heavens door, Serrel and a hoist of other angels were waiting for their return. All greeting NN for his recover of being obsessed with writing, and thanking the little angel for her helping NN recover. They both said they had very little to do with the transformation, it just happened that way. NN replied, I guess God uses our love to wake us up; for writing got me to look at myself. What a better way to get his message to me then through the thing I so love, writing. Said the little angel, And writing got me to share my experiences with someone, and they all smiled.
Note: 3/2002 (revised 11/2005)
See Dennis' web site: http://dennissiluk.tripod.com
Author:: Dennis Siluk
Keywords:: Short Story
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