• Her hair was always perfect, her eyes always bright and shining. A skirt in the summer, tight, black jeans in the winter is what she wore and a nice hooded jacket year-round. Her name was sweet and innocent, Jasmine Wood. It was a warm name, a sweet, kind name, one of a future teacher or nurse. But no one knew her eyes could dull, her hair strewn across her face, and her jacket torn and dirty. Her backpack a few steps behind her still body. I came upon it walking one day, in a park. The park she always took on the way home.
    That day it was overcast, as if, with her eyes, the sky had clouded. All color was dulled, all life silent as the cold, bare trees whispered and gasped. The blood pooled about her side, over her cold, pale hand. She lay in her own, now freezing blood. As he walked to the husk, everything went silent. So silent you could hear the blood staining the concrete sidewalk. His breath billowed as he sighed, his strong face tired.
    He looked about and found, though not to his surprise, no one inhabited the benches. Not the bird lady, nor the child waiting for mother. He knelt down and pushed her soft hair from her face, his calloused hands rasping against her soft, makeup covered cheek. He checked her pulse, though he knew she had left her body. Rolling her over, he placed her hands on her chest, like she had fallen asleep in prayer. His long, grey coat brushed the cold, hard ground, the button making a ticking sound as he moved my other knee to place on the ground.
    “Dear child, do not be afraid of the afterlife, your eyes look to the heavens, allow your spirit to be freed, worry not about this tragedy. Your family will know, as will your friends.” He whispered to her as he brushed her surprised, cold, clouded eyes closed, his deep, calm voice echoing through the park softly. He felt the familiar pang, like a church bell in the winter, brush his heart, his eyes brimmed with tears. This was never easy. Placing the sign of the cross on her forehead, he sighed and swallowed softly as he stood again. Muttering a few words, a small flame bounced up amongst her breasts, flickering and licking at her now cold skin. Soon in engulfed her body, the flames warm to him, familiar as it lapped and twirled around her sweet, perfect being.
    As quick as it came, the fire died out, leaving a perfect sidewalk once again. Shifting his weight, he placed his hands behind his back, like a solider at ease, he waited. Soon a small, sad smile crossed his face, the sad one he gave all of them. Jasmine was standing there, in front of him, her skin aglow and her eyes alight again.
    “I’m supposed to go with you?” Her sweet voice asked. He nodded and opened his arm for her to step into, putting his hand on her side. “Yes, you are to come with me. I will help you over.” He said, his long coat changing back to his silver wings again. They rose into the chilled air, the clouds parting slowly as they passed through their grey matter. “Just follow me, Jasmine Wood, follow me to the afterlife, where life is no longer cold and bitter, where the streets are lined with gold.”