Atoning Angel

Bill and Brian barely hid their sniggers when the priest waxed lyrical, only just falling short of calling the deceased a saint. I admit if I’d been there with them I’d have had difficulty hiding my mirth but I wasn’t exactly with them, for I was the deceased, the object of the priest’s glowing eulogy.

Time had flown since I passed. Literally. I had wings! One minute the doctor pronounced me dead; next I stood at the Pearly Gates with St Peter directing me down a corridor to a room where I was fitted with wings.

‘What now?’ I asked the angel who fitted them.

‘That’s up to you,’ she said.

‘But… I’m not angel material. I’ve been a rogue all my life. I’ve stolen, cheated… probably broken all ten of the commandments.’

‘We know,’ she smiled. ‘It’s your choice what comes next. We have faith in you.’

I was gobsmacked. I’d expected to go to the fiery abode downstairs. They had faith in me? With my record? I was humbled, truly humbled and resolved to atone for my transgressions.

Invisible, I helped old ladies across busy roads, returned runaway toddlers to relieved parents and rescued cats from trees.

Small stuff but it felt good and I wished I’d taken the same path in my former life.

I saw Bill and Brian occasionally, mostly caught up in dodgy activities just like I used to be. I wondered how to enlighten them.

Both mechanics, the pair ran a garage. They were good at their job but sometimes cut corners, using cheaper, dangerous, substandard parts.

Brian’s face was a picture when he lifted a hood to install a shoddy gasket and found me sitting there in winged splendour.

Then I appeared to Bill who was looting the trunk.

I didn’t say a word, just shook my head from side to side. Bill closed the trunk and immediately rang his supplier and ordered stronger gaskets.

They’re both on the straight and narrow now but every so often I leave a snow white feather on a dashboard… just to remind them.