Second Chance: a short, short story
Second Chance: a short, short story
By Wista Jeanne Johnson
Room 4191.
Clare Anne Flugle, 48, end-stage cervical cancer patient, blinks at the bright visage standing silently at the foot of her bed.
Is this real? Am I dreaming? Breathing heavily, she manages to push onto her elbows. It’s still there!
Shimmering white light radiates from the being, brightening the darkened room; its features lost in the brilliance.
Curious, yet oddly calm, Clare basks in the gentle waves of peaceful energy emanating from the vision.
“Who are you?” she asks, “What do you want?”
The luminescence flickers from white to gold. Clare “hears” words not spoken.
“I am Questra, Being of Light, sent from the Sixth Dimension.”
“Is this a dream?”
“No, Claire. I am here to offer you a second chance at life.”
“Me? But why? I’m dying.”
“That is of little consequence.”
“How is this possible?
“The universe is full of possibilities not yet understood by humankind. By choosing to accept, your old life will be erased, and you will begin a new journey.”
“What does that mean? Will my loved ones be part of in my new life?”
“My mom. My dad? My husband, Don? My twins Mark and Maria? My best friend, Jenna?”
“This I cannot predict. All depends on the choices and decisions you make.”
“I…I…I’m not sure. I do want to live, but how do I know that I won’t repeat the same mistakes or experience the same joys and sorrows?
“Each human makes thousands of choices in a lifetime. No one knows which ones you will choose a second time.”
“What happens if I don’t accept your offer?”
“Then you fulfill the destiny you have chosen for this life.”
Slowly, Clare leans back onto the over-size pillows and closes her eyes. After a several minutes, she whispers, “I don’t think I can accept this offer
“So be it,” says Questra.
With these words, she dissolves into a thousand points of glittering lights, returning the room to shadows; the only light is the glow from machines monitoring Clare’s vitals.
Eventually, Clare falls into a deep sleep.
At 6:00 a.m., the on-duty nurse arrives to find Clare cold and lifeless. “Goodbye, Miss Clare,” she murmurs, covering the dead woman’s face with the white sheet.
“I am so sorry that your young life had to end so soon. Too bad, we don’t get second chances.”
© 2020 wistajohnson.com (Reprint by permission only.)