I'm Staying | Teen Ink

I'm Staying

June 12, 2011
By Jacy-Lee PLATINUM, Stonington, Connecticut
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Jacy-Lee PLATINUM, Stonington, Connecticut
21 articles 2 photos 24 comments

Favorite Quote:
Love to learn, learn to love


Author's note: I just was reading a book a couple of months ago, and an idea popped into my head about an angel who's not necessarily angelic. Jason is my favorite name, so I started thinking about a boy named Jason Angelus who's stuck between to warring sides full of monsters and demons and unearthly beings. Of course, every good book has a love interest, so I added a part about a girl destined to die who Jason falls in love with. Jason is also a ladies man, so him being in love is a totally new experience for him... and one that's come at an inopportune time.

Let me just begin this tale by saying I am an angel. Not like a good person or anything (although I suppose I would have to be to be an angel) or good looking.
Actually, that was a lie. I am gorgeous. I am fantastically good looking. I actually had a modeling contract of sorts before I died.
Yup. I died. Finito, gone, passed away, deceased. Don’t worry though I’m over it. No unfinished business for this guy, no sir. I died without a care in the world.
So, about me being an angel. You’re probably like “Whoa, this guy is a serious Froot Loop!” But I’m not lying. I do have wings and occasionally wear a white robe thingy. The halos though…pft! Totally bogus. A ring floating around dead peoples heads…what crazed priest thought that one up?
I suppose that I should begin with my story before anything. I was born in the 18th century in London to Mr. and Mrs. David Angelus. Prophetic last name, yeah, I know. I was their first boy in a family with seven daughters, so there was a fair bit of excitement. See, Darling Daddy had amassed quite a large fortune over the years, him coming from respectable family lines and businesses and all. I believe he might have had a title of some sorts, but I don’t entirely remember. Anyways, when the joy of having an heir wore off, he realized that I must be treated, as any future fortune holder should be, carefully and allowed full reign. By the age of two I had had exactly 15 nannies, having cried and howled my way to their banishment, one after the other. By the age of 5, I was a terror, disrespectful and cruel. Yet I was always careful to be sweet and loving to my Doting Parents. I knew, from even that age, that they would be kinder and more relenting to a boy who was, in their eyes, the perfect son.
And so I grew, my rages growing more terrible and my soul more stained with every passing year. By the time I was 16 I was a monster. It helped tremendously that I was of noble birth and good looking. People, including my victims, were more inclined to see me a kind and gentle person. Then, when I was 17, my world of cruelty stopped, froze. My baby sister was born.
From the day she was born, she was my world. I remember looking down at her while she slept, bored out of my mind, until she yawned and opened her eyes. She looked directly at me and small smile grew on her face until she gurgled happily and held her hands out to me, chubby legs kicking the air. Her eyes, a radiant blue much like my own, were filled with happiness and love and joy. Her rose petal cheeks flushed and her tufts of downy black hair on her head floated dreamily in the warm air. I had never seen a more beautiful creature before and I was completely in love.
From then on, I was always there. When she said her first word (Duck) I cheered and tossed her into the air. When she took her first step, I wouldn’t stop screaming until the whole family had gathered to watch her take the next one. I saw every single first thing she did, and it was more exciting then when I had done it myself. I was a constant presence in her life and I became closer to her than our own mother.
Around this time, I had become kinder and more considerate. I found a dog, badly injured, in an alleyway and took it home to be cared for. It became my close companion, the brother I never had. I treated my sisters with more caring and consideration than usual. I helped the poor people of London by giving a beggar a couple of pounds or a poor family extra food.
Don’t get me wrong though, I was still a trickster. It would be extremely dull to suddenly become Mr. Perfect after a sister was born. I loved fighting and often came home with my clothes ripped and blood pouring from a cut above my eye. I became, instead a terrible rich boy, a lovable rogue and the people would had cowered in fear of me, now smiled indulgently as I raced from our house. My sister just prevented me from hitting that last punch when you’ve already won and kicking the homeless person aside. I wanted her to grow up in a kinder world then she had been born in.
Then I died. I was killed at the age of 19 by a knife hidden in the folds of a mugger’s coat. I had been walking jauntily home one night, whistling. I remember it, clear as day. The streetlights were obscured by mist as the fog was rolling in. The cobblestones were uneven and filthy, rats skittering out in front of you only to squeak and rush back to the comforting shadows. I was drunk, a rousing night at the local tavern and was playing with my watch. It had been my grandfathers and was made of very old gold. I was tossing it up, high into the air only to just catch it by my fingertips every time. A man stepped out in front of me, his face masked by a hat. He looked poor and dirty, dressed in a shabby coat and no shoes.
“Give me the watch,” he rasped harshly.
I glared drunkenly at him. “Sod off, you filthy bum.” I slurred.
He stepped out from the alley, throwing his ugly face in definition as the muted light hit him. He wasn’t much taller than me, around 6”1 or 2. I stood at an even 6 feet and was young and strong. It’s a wonder that he threatened me actually. He must have been very desperate. He puffed his chest out, trying to look threatening. “Give it to me, you bastard,” he growled.
“Try and get it mate,” I teased.
Wrong thing to say.
His knife flashed twice in the streetlight and I felt two pains, one in my chest and one in my arm. The watch clattered to the cobblestones, blood flecked on it but no one reached for it. We both stood still, shocked. He looked close to tears. I was just in shock, frozen.
Then I crumpled to my knees, gasping. The pain was unlike anything I have ever felt before. I could feel acid inside my lungs as the street turned red around me. The man, my assassin, turned to flee but with a grip strengthened by death, I caught his arm. I whispered to him desperately,” My name is Jason Angelus. I have a family. Tell my baby sister, she’s the littlest one, that I’m sorry and that I love her. Tell my parents too. Give her the watch, let them know it’s from me to her.” He nodded, sobbing. My grip tightened, I had only seconds left. I could hear my death rattle in my chest as I spoke and felt the blackness begin to claim me. I gasped in pain, and felt my lungs fill with my own blood. The blackness closed around me and I managed three more words,” I forgive you.”

Yes, I am a great person. I forgave him for killing me. Yay, yay. Lets have a parade. I was pretty upset about the whole dying thing. I watched that man from Heaven. He went to my family, as I asked him to. He told them that he came across me in the street, bleeding. I told him my name and to tell my family that I was sorry and that I loved them. I don’t really blame him for lying about how he found me. You can hardly go up to a dead persons family and say,” Hi, I killed your son, but he forgave me so it’s all alright, right?” He gave them the watch, now clean, and a handkerchief with a red stain on it. My blood. He told them what I had told him, that I wanted it bequeathed to my baby sister so she would remember me and to tell her I loved her. He was polite and sorrowful to them. They thanked him heartily after he was done and my father drew him into the next room. In gruff voice tinged with unspeakable pain, he asked the man one thing,” Was he brave?”
The man looked at him and replied simply,” I will never know one braver.”
That was the first time I had ever seen my father cry.

So now you know my background story. Now I am a 208-year-old angel. I still look the same as I did when I died, which is to say, gorgeous. Oh, Jesus Christ (he’s real, by the way. Kind of a celebrity up here.) I forgot to tell you what I look like! I bet you’ve been dying to know. OK, here we go.
I have black, longish hair that waves a bit ‘round the ends. I have large blue eyes, the only one in our family who had them besides my little sister. I have a “charming” British accent. I am six feet tall, a light tan, well muscled and fit and possibly the handsomest angel around. Oh, and I have these awesome black wings. All the other angels have white ones, symbolizes how pure of heart they are or some kind of crap, but I have black ones. God’s idea of a joke or something, reminding me every day that I barely got into Heaven. I don’t really care; I look better with black. It’s slimming. And plus I look like a fallen angel, and girls love those so much better. Or I think so anyway. I haven’t really been down to Earth in a while to check it out.
Hopefully, that’s about to change though. I have been called to appear before the Angelic Guardians. Which is to say, the Supreme Court of Guardian Angels and Soul Collectors.

I stepped into the Great Hall in front of the members of the Angelic Guardians. There’s a chair, but I don’t sit. I have heard that they like to test you to see if you’ll be a good guardian in the Hall. Sitting down is a way of saying “I’m relaxed, all is well,” and that is really not true with me.
Instead I stand cockily in front of them. Show no weakness, that’s my motto. I flash a smile to them. I hear a few feminine sighs somewhere and my grin widens, displaying more of my perfectly straight and white teeth.
The spidery looking man at the end of the table clears his throat. “Jason,” he begins in a thin, wobbly voice.
I cut in with another smile,” That’s me sir.”
The man looks startled and peers over his glasses at me. He doesn’t need them; when you die you are granted perfect senses. He harrumphs a bit angrily and begins again, his nose firmly in the air,” Jason Angelus, you are 208 years old. Act like it,” I look down, seemingly subdued as I think, “Old crank! Who asked ME to come here, huh?”
The man continues, going on with a long winded background of my life, my death, my relatives, my sins, my good in the world, how old I am, how old I was when I died, etc. I’m relieved from my acute boredom when a woman cuts him off.
Smothering a yawn, she says,” All right Harold, lets get on with it.” She’s stocky, with brown hair pulled back and flashing violet eyes. She looks tough and capable. My kind of girl. Too bad she looks to be around 50.
Harold harrumphs again then addresses me,” Now son-“
I interrupt automatically,” Don’t call me son.”
Harold and the rest of the board look at me with shock at my rude outburst. Remembering where I am, I duck my head. “My Dad…he used to call me that. I want it to be saved for him.”
They nod understandingly and continue.
Harold grumbles a little, then hastily carries on when the lady with the violet eyes looks at him, “ Yes, yes, apologies all around then? Right… so Mr. Angelus, if I may call you that, yes? Yes…hmmm… we…as a council have decided to send you down to Earth on a mission. Some did suggest others, more experienced, but it was an almost unanimous decision…”
I muttered underneath my breath,” Yeah, I wonder who was against me…?”
He glanced sharply at me, glasses winking coldly in the lights above,” AS I was saying, it was an almost unanimous decision because, while you are rather…immature, your considerable age and youthful appearance must be taken into account. You are the only angel who qualifies who is able to be taken as a high school student.”
My heart beats a little faster and my wings raise slightly in excitement,” High school? Really?” I grin, ecstatic. I never went to high school, but wanted to desperately. My favorite TV show, Degrassi, is a soap opera about high school. Some really hot chicks go there, and everybody is loud and obnoxious and cool. Unlike up here, where it’s like living in a library. No speaking above a whisper. That is a fun rule to break, let me tell you.
A man rises from the center of the table. Clad in the traditional white gown, palm sandals, he looks every inch a holy man. A trim, brown beard is on his chin and his eyes glint a steely gray in the light. His wings, the biggest I’ve ever seen, are pearly, like a doves feathers. Even I can tell he is no one to be messed around with.
“Jason Angelus,” he rumbles in deep, melodic tones. His voice is stern, kind and powerful all at the same time. It resonates deep in my soul and I can sense that this man will judge me for what I have done and that he can see what I will do. Suddenly, I am desperate not to disappoint this person in front of me.
A wind swirls around me gently as he speaks again,” Jason Angelus, you are a soul with much suffering. Pampered as child, you grew to be selfish and cruel to your fellow humans. You may think your sister is what pushed you to kindness, but looking at you now I see that she was only a nudge. Living, you were a gentle and loving soul at birth before outside forces changed your ways. You have a pure heart. I approve of the mission. Explain it to him and let it be done.”
And then my jaw drops even further to the ground. Because the guy in front of me literally dissolves to gold dust! My bugged out eyes watch in disbelief as it floats up higher into the sky and then kick my brain. Speech returns to me, as does the ability to breath. I point randomly at the sky and wait a few seconds for my tongue to untie itself.
After a few seconds of staring and pointing I manage a few words. “ Was-was that GOD!”
No one can ever say that I don’t get to the point quickly.
The council seems to be just as stunned as me. Finally a dark skinned woman rises to face me. Her tawny eyes lock onto me with a surprising amount of aptitude for a woman her age. She replies curtly,” Yes Jason, that was God. He seems to like you. That was a first in the Angelic Guardian’s history, one that may or may not happen again, and one that should definitely be recorded for future reference.”
The man of the same color and around the same age sitting next to her winks at me. That’s new, he mouths to me. The woman looks sharply down at him and he begins whistling innocently and looking around.
I just saw GOD, but I’m naturally curious. “ Are you guys married?” I blurt out.
The woman looks shocked but the man laughs heartily. “No man, she keeps saying no. But I keep trying anyway. I’m Tim and this lovely lady, this epitome of beauty, this goddess of my heart, this joy of all surrounding people’s life-“
“I’m Sara,” she says, biting back a smile as she glares down at Tim.
I nod, uncertain of their sanity. “So…mission details? Any takers? Big Guy in the Sky said to brief me…?”
A girl looking to be around twelve or eleven mutters,” Big Guy in the Sky?” disapprovingly, but she hasn’t hit puberty yet so I take no notice.
The lady with the violet eyes stands uncertainly,” Umm…yes. Mission details. Well, basically it’s this. A boy down on earth is destined to do great things for the world, to help millions. Unfortunately, he is being teased and bullied mercilessly at high school. He has begun to think about suicide and even has gone far enough as to pour out the pills into his hand. Thankfully, he chickened out. We need someone to go down to earth and befriend him, to show him back to his previous path of good. He cannot die now. You, Jason, are the only angel we have with both considerable age and training that looks to be around high school age.”
“Training?” I say, confused. I haven’t trained for anything in my life. Ever.
She sighs,” Yes, training. When you were alive you fought frequently. You learned how to defend yourself and how to attack, right? Well, most of the angels here are old codgers who don’t know a right hook from a block. We need someone able to defend the target.”
Huh. I hadn’t really thought of my fighting as training. I hadn’t really thought of my fighting as anything good for other people either. I’m learning a lot today.
“OK, so cliff notes version: go down to earth, help suicidal saint, set him on his destined path, fall madly in love with a sexy cheerleader named Tiffany-“
I get glares from all around except from Tim, who grins widely. The twelve-year-old girl gives me a disgusted glance and then sniffs pompously. I decide to stand against being treated like that. Pointing at her, I complain “ She’s looking at me weird!”
Almost everybody at the table shakes their heads, amused, but the girl looks mortified.

After the meeting, I decide to go for a run around Heaven. In case you’re wondering, Heaven isn’t a whole bunch of clouds and light and choirs. It’s actually different looking for everyone. It stretches on for however large you want it to be and changes with whatever you think of at the moment. You don’t have to eat or drink, but for newbie’s, it’s comforting to chew and swallow so there are some restaurants dotted around. Parks and skyscrapers line my vision. I imagine my heaven to be a little like New York City and London mixed. Some people who might have lived in the country might have their version of heaven be all trees and birds and dirt roads. I lived in London; therefore, I am a city boy at heart. I hope my mission takes place in a city…

I just realized something. I have been dying to get out of here ever since I got here. Ever since I found out that my family would never catch up with me (at least not for a few millennia), as they were put on a different level of Heaven than me. I was more innocent when I died, but they died old and wizened. Their hearts were hardened against life; they had seen it all. I was placed on a plane reserved for the pure souled. Which is ironic since I had a dirtier soul than anyone here.

I don’t want to leave now though.

I mean, I do, in a way. Just to breathe and live again, even for a second would be the best experience I’ve had in 200 years, but I’ve grown accustomed to Heaven. Where will I get money? Where will I live? I have been in total comfort for centuries, how will I adapt to being on earth again, where pain and fear is very real?

And how, in God’s name, am I supposed to hide my wings?

Then, halfway through my run, someone plummets to the ground right in front of me, a flurry of white feathers and brown hair. I yelp and trip and fall down on the sidewalk. There, sprawled in front of me, is the girl for the meeting.

I’m shocked. No, I’m more than that. I’m stunned, flabbergasted, in a state of disbelief. NO ONE, and I do mean NO ONE, not even God (well, maybe God) can get into your heaven without permission. This is like, my world being flipped and all the rules being broken.

THIS DOES NOT HAPPEN.

“Oh relax, pea brain,” she snaps at me, brushing herself off. “I’m here with His permission. He thought you might have questions about your mission.”

She waits for a few seconds, then bends down closer to look at me, concern and impatience flashing on her face,” Hello? You OK?”

This girl is tall for her age, which looks to be around 12 or 13. Her brown hair falls to her elbows and partly obscures her face, which seems fixed in a permanent scowl. Green eyes flash angrily at me, and I manage to grab a hold of my thoughts.

I scramble to my feet and say,” You-He-permission- this is MY heaven! I so did not give you permission to come into my heaven! How are you here?”

She taps her foot angrily,” Hey, guess what, I don’t really want to be here either. Your heaven is crap compared to mine,” “But,” she hastily continues as I swell up like a bullfrog, ready to defend my heaven,” But I am supposed to be your mission guide and all that jazz. And also, God has like the ultimate power. He can give me permission to come into your heaven. It’s like, he’s the landlord and you’re the tenant. He has the keys to your room and stuff, but he usually leaves you alone, unless the hall’s flooded or your Great Aunt Maggie’s come for a visit or something.”

I blink, confused. She is really making no sense. Its like, blah blah blah, tenant, blah blah, Great Aunt Maggie. OK, mission guide. Mission guide being…?

She huffs irritably,” You don’t know what a mission guide is?”

Did I say that out loud?

I smile and lay on my famous charm. I want her OUT so bad, but she’s obviously not leaving until she does her job. I hate hard workers like that.

“No…I don’t” I smile at her again. “Now why don’t you go ahead and tell me what it is…so you can get the HELL OUT OF MY HEAVEN!”

She jumps back, startled at my outburst. I glare angrily at her, then sigh, slumping. I sit down on a bench lining my sidewalk. Patting the spot next to me as a signal for her to sit I ask,” OK. What does he want me to know?”

Cautiously she sits. After a few seconds she answers my question,” Um…ok. First, I’m Emily Winters and I’ll be your mission guide for the rest of your life. Death. Whatever. Ok, a mission guide is like home base. We tell you what you should be doing and send you anything you might need, like money, clothes and stuff. You’ll need a house and stuff for school. You want to look cool and strong, but also nice enough that the target will be ok with approaching you. Remember, he’s a bit geeky. Right now, all he’ll want is someone to protect him from bullies, but you’ll also have to have common ground. I suggest you starting learning all you can about technology.”

Wow. She just cured all my worries. Except one…

“Oh, and also remember that you are dead. You don’t need to fear getting hurt or dying but you won’t have a pulse or a heartbeat if you’re taken to the hospital so don’t do something stupid. But for God’s sake,” she adds looking at me pleadingly. “Hide your wings?”

I snort,” Yeah, I wish. How am I supposed to do that?”

She slaps her forehead,” Oh! I am so stupid! Here,” she says, rummaging in her pocket and pulling out a small flask with amber liquid.

I grin and nod,” Right on, but aren’t you a little young to be drinking? Or is it a going away present for me?”

She pushes me,” Get real. It’s not alcohol. It’s a potion that will hide your wings for up to 2 months if need be. They’ll go poof but be back as soon as it wears off.”

I swear that I hate all workaholics…except this one. She thinks of everything! So I’ll just irritate her until she leaves.

I pucker my lips,” Thanks darling. Now how about a kiss? Smoochie Smoochie…!”
She leaps up and cries,” Agh!” before taking off and flapping away as fast as she can.


I laugh until tears roll down my cheeks.

After that, Emily never came back to my heaven. I suppose you would like to know more about Emily. Well, I guess I can spare some space for her.

Her name is Emily Winters and a sniper bullet killed her two years ago. Her parents were assassins (I know, cool, right?) but she never approved of their willingness to kill for money, and although they lived a lavish lifestyle, Emily refused any part of what she called “blood money”. She wore clothes she bought with money from baby-sitting and went to a public school. Her room was pretty bare except for an old bed and some faded posters. She had several books, whole cases of them stacked in cardboard boxes. They were the only things she used her parent’s money to buy, and even then she felt horribly guilty. Her mother had a job in Iraq so they all went down there with her. Emily was watering the plants on her balcony of her hotel room when the bullet struck her right between the eyes.

She says it didn’t hurt, she didn’t feel a thing. It was like she blacked out and then woke up here, with wings and a white gown. I can see how that can be pretty confusing. The only good thing that came of her death was that her heart broken parents, distraught over losing their only daughter, quit their jobs as mercenaries. They are now florists and have another child, a boy, on the way. Emily couldn’t be happier. She watches them everyday now as her mothers stomach grows. I expect that poor child will have a heavenly stalker once he’s born.

So, Emily’s my mission guide and my mission is in two days.


Emily is standing next to me, wringing her hands. She’s so nervous I can’t help but to leap in front of her and go “BOO!” She screams and then begins an angry tirade about how she can’t see how I ever got into Heaven, that I’m a disgrace, yada, yada. I’m laughing too hard to listen.

Then she suddenly goes quiet and I look up to see what’s wrong. My heart practically stops when I see God standing in front of me, smiling slightly. He’s dressed in an impeccable suit and would look completely human if it weren’t for his two giant white wings poking out of his back.

“Why are you wearing a suit? Uh, sir?” I hastily add after a sharp poke from Emily in the ribs.

God smiles, (I still can’t believe that I am speaking to God. It is really weird. It’s like, what do you say to the person who knows everything? Hmm, looks like it’ll rain today, oh, yeah, it will. Can you say unnerving?) and gently replies, “ It’s quite alright Emily. I like to go down to earth sometimes, just check up on it. I’m wearing a suit because I’m checking out Wall Street today. If I wanted to see, say, Saudi Arabia-“ He spins blindingly fast and when he stops he’s wearing a long white toga type thing and glasses. I think my mouth is open but I can’t tell because I’m rather numb.

“Or say, see things from a woman’s point of view-“ He spins again and this time turns into a very womanly person, dressed in a knee length skirt and white blouse. His face is completely different, no beard and different, finer features with long black hair. Only his eyes, gray as stone, are the same.

This time I manage to choke out a few words. “You-you’re a girl?”

He-She-IT smiles,” Yes, if I wish to see what the feminine side is thinking about something.”

My mind can’t grasp this but I keep on doggedly,” So…are you a girl or a guy?”

God laughs out loud. The sound stays in the air and seems to bounce off the very mountains. It’s the ideal of heaven, of man and it stops to short for me. “I simply am, Jason. I never lived on earth nor breathed air or had a pulse. I am as everlasting as the sky and yet I am as fleeting as a flowers beauty. I am not one thing, be it a body or blade of grass, but many things all around the universe, touching many different lives. I AM GOD.” His last words penetrate deep into my soul and I gasp, clutching my chest. His voice seems to burn, his eyes peel away my flesh to see my heart and the pure power behind those three words brings me to my knees. I see Emily, weak and shaking, fall to do the same. The world seems to be pressing on me and I know that I fear this being in front of me with everything inside me.




I hear Its voice once more, echoing around me and I shudder against the force as it pushes on my body,” Farewell Jason Angelus. You will succeed in your mission. I merely came to wish you luck and to say that I saw the hero with my own eyes before he left.”

The pressure lifts and I suck in air, trying to keep from shaking. Emily lets out a little groan then rises unsteadily to her feet. I stay on my knees for a few seconds, contemplating my faded jeans as I struggle to bring air into my lungs. Finally, my breathing returns to normal and I get up off the ground. “What just happened?” I inquire.

Emily’s face is white,” I-I don’t know,” she stammers. “I think that was God in full power. But he never does that,” she murmurs half to herself. “He hasn’t done that since the beginning of time; its too dangerous…”

“Well, he did, and it hurt and I pray that he never does it again.” I quip weakly.

I’m still stunned by the awesome power I just saw, but I manage to pull myself together as a beautiful woman walks in accompanied by Tim, the friendly angel at the meeting. I smile at them and am gratified to see the woman blush slightly before haughtily saying,” Hello Jason. I am to prep you for your mission. If you will follow me?”

As we go down a long and twisting hallway I whisper to Tim,” Who’s the ice queen?”

Tim smiles widely,” Oh, you mean Victoria? She’s an old healer and tester. She tests angels to see if they have their back round story handled and know the ropes before being sent down to earth. She is a bit of an ice queen, but when you died in a blizzard I guess you can’t be much else!” He chuckles quietly and I join in. I like Tim. He’s always smiling and joking and doesn’t anything (or anyone) bring him down.

At the end of the hallway there’s a plain wood door. I can’t see a doorknob but Victoria somehow manages to open it. Emily tries to step in but in one fluid motion Victoria stops her. “Only the angel chosen for the mission can enter this room with me,” she says in a cool tone. I stick my tongue out at the angrily blushing Emily and follow Victoria in.



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