The Saving Angel

• Marnie Commins, Grade 7, Westminster School
• Short Story
• 2001

Finalist in the '2001/2002 Schools Short Story Competition - Magic and Mystery Theme' competition

It was a sunny April day, the opposite of how I was feeling. I stood at the window watching my wife drive away. She was my love, the woman I’d hoped would give me children. As I watched her turn the corner, tears came to my eyes. Memories returned; the day we met, our first date, our wedding day. I remembered the happiness, the good times. But there came bad times. The day I lost my job, arguments about money, that guy she found. Divorce forms were signed and she left, leaving me alone, sad and broke.
I backed away from the window and fell, broken hearted, into an overstuffed armchair. The telephone rang. “Is this Michael Fletcher?”
“This is Mike,” I answered.
“I’ve got bad news, Mike. Your mother’s had a stroke.”
Four weeks later, my mother was living with me. When she walked, she was slow and jerky. Her once-brilliant mind struggled with the simplest tasks. Dressing, washing and feeding took me hours; rehab and medical visits filled the rest of every day. Meanwhile, nothing else was getting done. Dirty dishes piled up in the sink and laundry was heaped near the washing machine. We had close to no income, and every cent that we spent cut down on things I was used to having. I was exhausted, yet every hour needed to be spent with my mother.
The pain and the suffering that had been going on in my home apparently beckoned a demon, for one day, one came right up to me and said, “Why don’t you let her die?”
“What?” I replied in angry shock.
“It would be so easy. Your troubles would be over,” it cooed.
“I can’t!” I cried.
“She’ll die anyway. You need to get on with life,” it said.
“But….” I started.
“But nothing,” it cut in. “Just do it.”
I resisted, but day after day it showed up, telling me it was the right thing to do. Eventually, I started believing it. It was okay, our suffering would be over. So one day, I took a pillow from my bed. I would suffocate her. I approached her bed slowly. As I raised the pillow, I noticed something on her nightstand. It was a photo of me in my mother’s lap. She was feeding me. Her eyes twinkled down at me. One of my small, pudgy hands clasped my mom’s finger. I stared at the picture for a long time. Suddenly I was aware of two or three teardrops glistening on the page. What was I doing? I threw the pillow across the room. That was my mother! I gave my mom a big hug. I looked at her peaceful, sleeping face. “I love you, mom. I love you so much.”
An angel came to my house that day and saved me from a demon. My mother is getting slowly better, and every day, every moment, I thank God and that angel for saving her – and me!