Following the traumatic events of LOST, the angel Zagzagel is more determined than ever to stand by his charges and do things his own way. Until now, Big Poppa has allowed Zag to follow his heart, but He's about to lay down the law with his renegade angel. The wrath of Heaven is about to crash down on Zag's head, setting the stage for the showdown to come. Only one Diary entry left before the international bestselling short story series concludes!
My previous assignment touched me in a way I still, after a week of Sundays, couldn’t figure. After all these weeks, I had not ascended the Heavens for home or for counsel with Big Papa. Why, you might ask. For no other reason than obligation had I been here for thousands, performed my duty when needed most, and watched graciously as many had passed. Yet I struggled to understand why after all these millennia and out of thousands of charges, the passing of Charlie had such an impact on me.
I searched for answers to my current insubordination, concluding only that maybe I was tired. The deeper I thought, the more obvious the truth became; there was no maybe to it. After all this time, I was tired. Tired of helping, but more apparent, tired of hurting.
I shouldn’t have let myself get this way, should’ve made sure I was better prepared, studied harder, prayed more diligently. Truth was, I was so deep in my pain and so determined in my longing, I could not have conceived the detrimental effects of my thinking. I did realize, however, that I would not seem to let it go, no matter how I tried. My emotions appeared to have gotten the better of me.
Because of this, I felt almost ashamed. Almost.
Charlie had been the first of my charges to convince me emotions were not a waste of time. Since losing Jagniel, I’d turned off, little by little, tuned out, did all but forget anything good existed in my realm or yours. Because of Charlie’s faith and tenacity, I felt accepted, loved… In truth, if not for Charlie, I may have never experienced love again, at all.
I had loved Charlie. Not in the romantic sense, but I loved her, nonetheless. Love I felt so sure and so strong that when she passed from this Earth, I succumbed to the opposite feeling just as fiercely. Dwelling on this was harmful to my well-being; I knew I was acting and reacting wrong in so many ways, and yet, thanks to Charlie’s love, I realized I could feel again, and I acknowledged that what I’d felt for the past couple of months and what I was going through right now was indeed, very real. So no, with that logic, any tinge of shame evaporated.
Damn it, it hurt like hell to aid others in finding peace while knowing mine would forever evade me—and not by my own doing. That was the true shame. I’d lost love—Jagniel—to circumstances, false teachings…power plays. Forever it seemed I had pushed back the bitterness; only since Charlie’s death, my denial of my own feelings ate at me like never before. “Losing love twice in one lifetime can do that to you,” Charlie would’ve told me, while patting my back softly, had she been here.
She wasn’t here to comfort me, though, and she never would be again. Yin’s opposite flared to life the longer I dwelled...and I breathed deep to dampen my rage. Here I was, expected to return and report to Big Papa, to do my job. Is that what you humans were to Him? Knowing Papa found amusement in watching my white-knuckled ride on this emotional rollercoaster further irked me. The longer I thought, the deeper I let my emotions take me, the more I was determined never to go back. Was that even possible?
Instead of returning, I’d wallowed away my time on Earth, taking in a few sights...people watching. Although, a good portion of the last two weeks, I’d spent my time with Chloe.
I’d come to Chloe not only to check in on one of my youngest charges, but also because above all others, she would understand the pain I harbored. Too much to put on a child? Not my Chloe. Let me explain.
Having the gift of knowing, she could feel someone at his or her core. A simple touch is often all it took, but with me, she had always gone to extremes. Chants and lapses of meditation were common. Not that I’d arrived for a reading of any kind, no. I came to Chloe because she knew what it’s like to be the black rose among the red ones, the oddball out... She knew what it was like to be different, but unlike me—who constantly sought Papa’s approval—she relished in being a misfit. I came to Chloe, seeking an understanding soul.
Having suffered a recent breakup with her girlfriend of two months, Chloe was in the pits. The pits of agony, despair? I didn’t know, but “pits” was the word for her current conundrum, she’d assured me while asking “why” for the twentieth time that morning as she made one weak attempt after another to distract herself from her pain. At fourteen, Chloe felt as if the end of any relationship was the end of her world, but I couldn’t quite see it her way.
Her boyfriend had stuck by her through the last three breakups, and Chloe’s mom was exceptionally understanding of her daughter’s sexuality—her bisexuality. Well, when her mother was home. I hadn’t seen the woman come or go in the last five days. Chloe had informed me that her mother was just off on another of her “little trips.”
Yeah.... I shrugged at that one, unable to find a proper response. Her mother’s trips consisted of parties, sex, drugs, sex, more partying, and more drugs—a perpetual cycle of wicked she couldn’t seem to break. The woman may’ve brought home enough to keep a roof over their heads with her prostitution, but a positive role model she was not. Left alone often, too often, Chloe was a tough one for it.