A Little Miracle

A short story about a guardian angel

Every guardian angel gets one meeting with God. One meeting per human, that is. Whether a human’s life is long or short, world-changing or insignificant, its guardian gets one chance, and one chance only, to plead for a miracle. Most angels plead for a single moment to go differently; that the drunk driver’s car should swerve the other way, or that the petri dish shouldn’t be dropped in the lab, causing the deadly virus to spread. Sometimes they’re granted, sometimes they aren’t, and no-one has ever been able to spot a pattern in the Almighty’s reasoning. Every angel dreads calling that meeting too early, or worse, too late.

Sathariel sat in Heaven’s waiting room, the knot in his stomach threatening to drag him back down to Earth. Hundreds of charges across thousands of years, and this might have been his stupidest meeting request to date. He closed his eyes and saw David; across all those years, he couldn’t remember the last time he had seen such deep, sincere heartbreak. He opened his eyes just as Janice, the receptionist, entered the room.

“He’s ready for you.”

Sathariel stood slowly, smoothing imaginary wrinkles out of his not-quite-corporeal outfit. Not much could phase him, but He could.

Meeting with God was kind of like catapulting yourself into the sun. When you entered His space, you had to concentrate very hard to not only articulate your plea, but remember what the plea was, and why it was important. You never quite knew what you were looking at, and you always ended up squinting; not to see better, but to shield your eyes.

God rarely said anything. His trick seemed to be to wait until you talked yourself in so many circles that you were a proverbial puddle of humility and confusion, begging for a reprieve. At this stage, you’d probably forgotten what that reprieve would be; you just knew you wanted it. Knowing all this never made the experience any easier.

Sathariel stepped forward, cowering slightly and aiming his gaze a little above eye level. He could technically look anywhere and still be making “eye” contact, but this position felt right. Maybe the gravity was a bit stronger in here or something.

“Lord Almighty,” Sathariel began. “Um… I’m here… Well, you know why I’m here, of course. Lord, I am here to request a miracle.”

God stayed silent. Sathariel always paused at this point because he hoped it added a sense of profundity to his speech, but when the time came, he could never deliver it without sounding really awkward. He’d have to make sure to not pause with his next human. “Lord… My request is for my charge, um, David.”

Silence.

“Yes, Lord, you’re completely correct; it is very early for a miracle. I understand, and I appreciate that this is unorthodox. However, I have thought about this deeply, and truly, I feel this is the time.”

Sathariel thought of David- Davey- down on Earth. Probably trying to land an ollie on his skateboard at this exact moment, or picking his nose or something. Sathariel smirked, before remembering where he was with a feeling of panic not dissimilar to being doused in ice water.

He began his speech again, spluttering. “Um, y- yes, Lord, s-so early for a miracle; I understand and agree. But, I think, when you hear what the miracle is-” Nope. This wasn’t part of the script; Sathariel knew that the miracle itself was actually one of the weaker parts of the whole proposition. “I mean, the miracle itself is not so important-” Nope; also the wrong thing to say. “No; I mean, of course it’s important, but the effect is-”

Sathariel felt the pressure increase in the atmosphere around him, like a storm was brewing. He was sweating so much.

“Davey’s dog has died,” Sathariel blurted out. He instantly deflated. He’d ruined his chance; best to just wrap things up and leave with a bit of dignity. He opened his eyes a little more, not without difficulty. “It’s Puddles… A little cairn terrier, only three years old. Someone left a gate open by accident, Puddles ran out on the road and… Davey’s just devastated, Lord.” Sathariel straightened slightly. “I request the miracle of bringing Puddles back to life. I am fully capable of performing the memory adjustments required and will handle all necessary arrangements.”

Silence. An unmistakable vibration that Sathariel had felt in such situations before. Whether it was rage or laughter, he had never quite been able to discern.

Sathariel sighed, his shoulders buckling slightly under the weight of The Almighty. “I know it doesn’t sound like much,” Sathariel mumbled, his head low. “I know it seems frivolous, especially when Davey is so young. Twelve. He has so much ahead of him; so much danger, so much that could go wrong. I just… If you could have seen them together, Lord. Well, I know you could have, but of course you have a lot to oversee. My point is, I did see them. That boy loved his little dog so, so much. And I know what you’re thinking; humans often become very attached to their dogs for some reason. The tails, I think; they always seem to love the tails.

“Regardless, you have entrusted me with countless souls, Lord. Many of those souls owned dogs, and I have never even considered making this request before. I know what I am asking, and its potential consequences. I know that using this miracle launches Davey into a world of danger from which I cannot protect him. But I feel, I truly feel, that if Davey a say in the matter, he would want me to stand before you today.”

The Lord stayed silent, but Sathariel found it harder and harder to keep his eyes open. He felt his body bowing more and more under an increasing pressure, his muscles screaming at his brain to let them collapse. He knew he was being excused. Nothing to do but except defeat.

“Thank you, Almighty Father.”

As Sathariel descended to Earth, he could feel his mood sink as if burdened by the increasing gravity. The angels always jokingly referred to the portal between Heaven and Earth as the “Lift Your Spirits”, both because of its cargo and its uncanny impact on your mood, in line with the direction you moved in. For all Sathariel knew, it was a placebo; he was certain well entitled to feel depressed upon this return to terra firma.

When he couldn’t put it off any longer, he returned to Davey’s side. The boy was eating his dinner. Well, he was eating rice and chicken, but not his broccoli. He nibbled the top of a stalk absentmindedly, then, when his mother turned her back, dropped it on the floor. Then, Sathariel heard it. The unmistakable skittering taps of four little paws. He moved instantaneously, bringing himself level with a sight he never thought he’d witness again; Puddles, snuffling up broccoli as his tail wagged excitedly. Davey’s socked foot reached out under the table until it found Puddle’s back, and gave it a few pets. Above, at dinner, Davey smiled to himself smugly. Sathariel smiled too, his eyes shining.

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A few decades later, it was time for Sathariel to move on to his next charge. In the scope of an angel, it was very little time at all. Still, every charge’s end meant something, and he always took his time to say goodbye. He looked back on his work, at all the things that Davey had done. The life he had built for himself, and the parts Sathariel had built for him. He thought of all the other times a miracle would have been useful, even life-changing. And then he thought of Puddles. He thought of the years Puddles and Davey had together- thirteen more than planned.

Sathariel leaned in as Davey took his final breaths. “I did what I could,” he said quietly.

Davey opened his eyes. “Are you an angel?”

Sathariel nodded. Davey nodded too.

“So… It’s done.”

Sathariel nodded again.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

Davey’s eyes glistened, a question on his lips that he feared would break his heart. Sathariel knew what it would be.

“Will I get to see Puddles again?”

Sathariel smiled. “You can see him whenever you want.”

Davey smiled so widely, it looked like his face might break in two. “Really? Could I see him now?”

Before he’d even finished his sentence, Puddles was sitting on his hospital bed, wiggling with excitement. Sathariel watched as the two rejoiced, Davey’s tears being licked off his face faster than he could produce them.

“Puddles has somewhere to take you, Davey. It’s time for you to go.”

Davey looked at Sathariel, bemused. “No-one’s called me Davey in a long time.”

Sathariel simply smiled in return, before turning to Puddles. “You know where to go.”

Puddles jumped off the bed and waited for Davey, who slid off the bed and started to walk with more of a spring in his step than he’d had in years.

The two didn’t look back as they entered the Lift Your Spirits, but Sathariel watched every step. He knew he’d made the right choice. He’d done his job well.

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This story is dedicated to my brother, Ben.