For Give Her Wings' Little Lambs
Older lambs should check out the Legends page.
Sooooooo . . . my sincere apologies. It's been about two weeks since I last posted anything. I'm working on something, and it's exciting.
In just about a week, I'm unleashing a flood of new upgrades and new ideas for the website, the group of WFC, and the Facebook page. This will include:
Just sit tight and wait: all of this will be activated within a month. Be ready!
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Arel looked up at the sun and squinted. By his count, it was probably about the time that Rachel would want her nap. It had been five years since he’d been assigned to watch her, and she’d been a little bundle of trouble ever since he started. He chuckled. It was totally worth it, though, just to be able to see her grin every day. He’d had to start hiding his appearance near her. God had said her memory was improving. Phooey.
Of course, her mother didn’t spend nearly the amount of time with her daughter that Arel did, so she didn’t know that Rachel was getting tired. Instead, she’d taken her to the park. “Oh boy,” the child-angel murmured. Rachel yawned. “No, no, no,” Arel whispered. “She needs to sleep! Or she’ll be a mess the rest of the day!” He flew up and whispered this into Rachel’s mother’s thoughts, but her mind was too busy with work to think hard about her daughter. “Come on, mom!” he almost yelled. She was pushing Rachel’s stroller towards the playground where, no doubt, she’d want her daughter to play. “Mommy?” Rachel asked, yawning again. “When are we going to go home?” “What?” her mom asked, surprised. “But we just got here! You can’t already want to go home! Now get out there and play, sweetheart.” Arel smacked his forehead with a wing. “But I don’t want to!” Rachel whined. Arel looked up at Rachel’s mother’s guardian angel, Refial. “Can you do anything?” he asked frantically. Refial shrugged helplessly. “I can’t, not in this situation! Taking care of Rachel is your job. I can’t help,” he answered. Arel looked at the park. Some of the other Christians there (only two or three) had guardian angels with them, but none of them would be able to give Arel the help that he . . . Rachel, needed. “Oh, no,” Arel muttered again. “You need the exercise, and you need to make friends!” her mother decided, and pushed the stroller further into the park, and to a bench, where she sat down and pulled out her laptop as she unbuckled Rachel. The five-year old unhappily flopped, fish-like, from her seat and stomped off towards the playground. Okay, that was serious misbehavior to the child-angel, but it was still his job to watch her and protect her. He flew over to where she now sulked. Suddenly, a little girl came near, with a friendly smile on her face. Another child-angel stood behind her. She waved at Arel, who gave her a thumbs up. “This is exactly what she needs right now. Er, kind of,” he told the other child-angel. “You’re Cyra, right?” “Yeah, I am. This is Hannah, my new charge! She just gave her little life to God, twenty minutes ago, and I’ll bet you anything that the first thing she asks is . . .” “ . . . Do you love God?” Hannah asked Rachel, with a slight lisp. Rachel nodded, the stubborn look of disobedience fading from her eyes. “Called it!” Cyra exclaimed. “Adorable, right?” Arel chuckled and nodded. “They do that so much when they’re little. Of course, I’m not much larger than her. I look like a ten-year-old human,” he commented. “Amazing, right? That God could think up something this awesome?” He did a little spinning dance. Cyra joined him, and they made a sort of circle with their wings, hopping up and down for the joy of seeing something that their God made turn into something beautiful. Out of breath, Arel stopped and turned to Rachel. She was curled up underneath the playground, and Hannah was by her, also sound asleep. “Well, that takes care of two problems at once,” he said. Arel’s wings spun into a dive, and yet again he crashed into the ground. “Aw,” he moaned as he sat up again, looking up at the brick wall of a house. “Why do my wings not work every single time?”
A child’s laugh interrupted his train of thought. “There you are!” Arel cooed, and dashed over to admire his child-charge. “Rachel, what’ve you been up to?” The two-year-old looked up at him with a smile on her face. “What are you thinking about?” “Ga,” Rachel spluttered, a pacifier falling out of her tiny mouth. Arel picked it up and put it back in her mouth, and Rachel closed her eyes, content to suck. It only took a moment, though, before they opened again and her baby blue eyes peeked up at Arel once more. “Ga!” Her pacifier hit the floor again. “Why is it that babies never remember a thing?” Arel wondered aloud, then turned to a window. Outside he could see another angel flying through the air. He stuck his head outside. “Gabriel! I have a question for you!” he called. He turned to Rachel. “I’ll be right back.” “Ga!” Arel flapped up into the sky where Gabriel the messenger sped along, presumably to tell Michael or some other angel something. “Gabriel! Question?” “Yes, young one?” Gabriel asked as his shining body sped along. Arel worked to keep up. “Why don’t babies remember anything? Even seeing us?” the child-angel asked. “Their brains aren’t fully developed until they reach the age of five or six. Now, go back to watching your charge. The Lord has another angel watching Rachel, Kiely I think. Hurry,” Gabriel urged. “That fast? Wow!” Arel dashed back down and through the window to see another child-angel popping Rachel’s binky back in, probably for the third or fourth time. “Okay, I’m back!” Arel announced. Kiely nodded, but was slow to get up. “You should see what she’s imagining! Children are amazing!” she wondered. “Quick, come see!” Arel walked over, and Kiely guided his hand to Rachel’s soft head. “Look at that!” Kiely exclaimed. “She’s got an imaginary friend already!” Indeed, Arel saw another little girl angel rolling a ball towards Rachel. “Can babies do that?” Kiely asked. “I don’t know!” Arel was excited. Watching his charge laugh and be happy in her mind made his day. Kiely laughed one more time, then perked up. “Gotta go!” She zoomed out of the window, presumably called by Yahweh. “Have fun with Rachel!” she called back. Arel looked up through the window, not paying attention to where she was moving, and stumbled backwards. Rachel giggled, and in the process, lost her pacifier. “You gotta be kidding me. Okay, this time you can put it back in.” Rachel stared up at him as he got up. Her captivating blue eyes held Arel’s gaze for another few moments. Arel finally consented. “All right, but next time, you’re on your own.” He picked up the slobbery thing and slid it back into her mouth. Arel had barely turned away before he heard “Ga!” and the sound of a binky hitting the carpet. “What now?” he murmured, and looked back to see Rachel’s mother holding the baby. “Oh, good, now you can put it back in!” he said, but her mom didn’t notice the pacifier and started to carry Rachel out of the room. Rachel’s bottom lip began to tremble, and a whimper escaped her tiny body. “Uh-oh. Mom! Do something!” Arel whispered. Rachel’s mother still didn’t notice. She looked exhausted, the child-angel noticed. “Hang on, little one, I’m coming!” he called, and swooped down to snatch up the pacifier. He popped it in just as Rachel’s mouth opened to cry. The baby sucked contentedly, and Arel wiped his brow. This time, the pacifier didn’t fall out, and Arel walked along behind his charge. “I’m right here, don’t cry, little one!” he assured the baby. *Note from Ram: This story's about one of my favorite new characters: Arel, a little angel in God's kingdom.*
Arel flapped his small angel wings down towards the sky. His golden hair flowed in the wind as he tried to stop himself, which failed. Terribly. He crashed into the clouds, doing a somersault and coming to a halt at another pair of feet. Arel sheepishly looked up at the stern face of Michael Archangel. “Oops,” the little angel grinned. Michael was the general of God’s armies, and despite his hard countenance, Arel always managed to make him smile. In this case, however, Michael’s composition remained the same. “Do you have a message?” the bigger angel asked. Arel nodded and checked his belt to make sure he still had it. It was gone! No, wait, it was still there, tucked in the back. He turned to reach for it, but the rest of his body followed. He spun in a circle. His left wing smacked him in the head, followed by Michael’s cry of alarm as the message fell out, through the clouds, and presumably landed somewhere on Earth. “I’ll get it!” Arel shouted, and dove into another spiral. When he crash-landed for the second time, the angel flew up another few feet into the air to see if he could spot the scroll. “Where are you . . . ?” he murmured. After a minute or so of carefully surveying his wooded surroundings, he happened to glance up and saw it hanging from the branch of a tall beech tree. “Got you!” he exclaimed happily, but his triumphant gesture turned to one of dismay as a robin swooped down and snatched the scroll up. The angel took off after the small grey bird. He was moving so quickly and recklessly that he almost didn’t see the bird drop it on a tree limb near a half-finished nest. He flapped to a stop and clumsily fell onto the branch. “I’ve got you this time!” he shouted, but before he could grab the heavenly message, it was scooped up by a raccoon and carried INSIDE the tree. Arel gave a sigh of exhasperation. Without a second thought, the child-angel clambered inside the tree trunk through the same knothole the raccoon had used. His halo’s glow gave a small amount of light to the murky inside. “Mr. Raccoon? Where’d you go?” The large trunk gave him room to look down, and he found himself staring right in the confused face of three large raccoons. None of them held the scroll. Arel frantically looked around in the tiny den. There! Another raccoon was scurrying out the entrance. “Come back here!” Arel crawled out after him, and the animal scampered away, holding the scroll in his mouth. Arel flew into the air and dove once more, plucking the raccoon off of the ground. “Now, give me that message back! It’s from God!” Arel ordered, pulling the scroll out from between the teeth of the persistant creature. Finally, Mr. Raccoon relented, and the scroll fell out into Arel’s hand. Arel set the raccoon down and prepared to take off towards where Michael waited . . . But was interrupted by a squirrel who, in a stupendous and slightly freakish feat of acrobatic maneuvering, flipped twice out of a tree to tear half of the scroll out of Arel’s grip! “Argh!” the little angel cried, irritated. As he flew after the agile and somewhat superhuman squirrel, he commented to himself, “Nature does not like me today.” Which, of course, couldn’t have been true, as he was an angel, but he sure felt like it. The super-squirrel flew from one branch to another, over a dead tree trunk, and did a backflip into a lake. Arel was extremely confused. “What in the world . . . ?” he started. The squirrel hadn’t surfaced yet. “God? I don’t think squirrels are supposed to do that. Can you make him stop?” Arel begged. Right on a heavenly cue, the squirrel non-chalantly walked straight up out of the water without the scroll. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Why? Why in the world would you do that?” Arel asked the squirrel. The squirrel, of course, had no answer, but kept walking into a little hole in the ground on all fours. Arel sighed again. He flew up to another branch. There was the scroll piece, floating in the water. “Just as I’m about to grab it, a fish is going to eat it,” he muttered. He didn’t know an angel could get this infuriated. And, just as he dove for the scroll . . . nothing happened! He caught it up and flew directly towards where Michael waited for him. He landed in front of the general. “Sorry I took so long. There was a robin, and a raccoon, and then Mr. Raccoon’s family, then a super squirrel, and a fish that wasn’t there, and a lake. Nature conspired against me,” he said dramatically. Michael looked at him for a moment, then burst into laughter at the absurd story. “Well, at least you got the scroll,” the archangel said. His face changed to one of almost comical disgust as Arel plopped the message into his outheld hand. It was wet and covered in dirt, along with a sprinkling of raccoon saliva and bite marks. He gingerly opened it and read it. His eyes narrowed for a bit, then widened joyfully. “It’s an invitation to another feast! We have many new Christians!” Michael exclaimed. Arel did a little celebratory dance, spun, and hit himself in the nose with his RIGHT wing. Michael put the child-angel on his shoulders and flew off towards heaven, laughing again. *This story is about what I think my own cat does when we're not at home*
Mitzi carefully watched as her owners all filed out of the house and into the big silver machine. As they sped off, the little white and black cat meowed and purred. Today would be a good day. She stretched and scratched behind her collar. The little six-month old kitten sprang from her perch on the windowsill. Still purring, she scratched open an air vent and bounced through into the basement. Sure enough, the owners of the other apartment had left the door open. Now she could play in that weird place! Mitzi jumped through the hole in the screen door and looked around. There was a fuzzy place, a hard place, a wet place, and a high-up place. She decided to go with the fuzzy place (a garden). The kitten stalked towards a waving object. It had little branches. The Munchkin cat leaped at it and tore it from the ground. The tiny, mischievous creature did the same to at least a dozen more plants before deciding to look at the high place. She carefully placed a little paw on the first step, then the next, and was soon up on a red deck. It was boring, but sunny, so she took a quick nap. Fifteen minutes later, Mitzi stood up and stretched again. Usually, now she’d be eating, so that’s just what she did. She crawled back down to the other apartment, jumped up to the air vent, and climbed back into her home. She found her food dish right away. It was moved to a different place. Mitzi nibbled on a few kernels of food. Her water dish was nearby, so she drank some, too. Litter box break. When that was done, Mitzi bounced back downstairs. This time, she checked out the wet place. There were little things moving around in the water. She dipped her paw down into the water, then pulled it out again. “Meow!” she mewed, startled. Back in, then out. Then, one of the little swimming things came around to her. She waited . . . waited . . . then smacked it out of the water! It flopped around and around. This was fun! The kitten smacked another, then another out. Before they stopped flopping, Mitzi stalked back inside. Instantly, she found something to scratch. It was a couch, with a rough pillow on it. She batted the pillow to the ground and pounced. It was easy to tear. Mitzi started purring again. Then she found another one! After completely destroying all the pillows, the kitten wanted another nap. She walked around, found a sink with sunlight, and curled up inside. Mitzi woke up to the sound of shrieking. Uh oh, she thought. Slinking away under another couch, she found the vent uncovered still and jumped through. She quickly covered it again and resumed her seat by the window. At the same time, two of her owners walked up the porch stairs. The kitten hopped down and sat by the door. The first who came to the door was the one she recognized instantly: her caretaker. “Hi, furball!” he said, scooping her up and rubbing her ears. “What have you been doing?” The other one walked through too, taking her and cuddling her for a moment. Then the owners of the other apartment stormed up. “Who did it?” “Who did what? We’ve been gone all day!” The other owners huffed and stormed off. The brown haired one, not her caretaker, looked at her sternly. “Mitzi?” “Meow?” As WhiteFire Legends Co. has just partnered with Give Her Wings, this is a page dedicated to uplifting stories for the little lambs: the sons and daughters of those struggling. Mainly, it's for the younger ones. If you're twelve or older, you should check out my Legends page. It's awesome.
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AuthorI'm normally known as WhiteFire, but here, you can call me Ram. Archives
June 2017
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