LoisVille Wisconsin
by Chris Van Herk
There he lay on that sunny morning in the middle of January, at the bottom of a hill he'd just fallen down, with this woman's fingers barely missing his face as the body swung to and fro, powerless to do anything about the situation. He was sure that his right ankle was broken, the end result of his tumble. That wasn't the worst of his troubles by any means. No matter how hard he had his eyes squeezed shut he could still see her. Even in death what he saw was beautiful.
A collison between a rock and Frank's head had left him unconscious, for how long he didn't know. When he came too he was at first sure he was being visited by an angel. The presense before him was aglow in the morning sun, a spectral entity awash in reds, yellows, and pinks, its light at times blinding in its brilliance. Its arms were spread in anticipation of a holy embrace and its hair of gold gently wafting in the breeze. He was to be ushered into heaven with a smile on his face after 72 years of keeping his faith in God, is what he thought at that moment.
And as he lay there in the snow, he was sure he was dead, his time on earth over. The time passed as he waited, but things started to feel not right. When the icy fingers of his angel brushed against his cheek, he knew he was still alive and he'd fallen not only down a hill, but into a private hell on earth.
Stay tuned for more from my first book, still in the rough draft stage.
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