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Healer

Photo by ABDALLA M on Unsplash

The first golden rays of the sunrise conquered the retreating shadows of the valley. Light defeating darkness like it always does. Her wings would once again be powered by the sun. The overcast weather now gone, she didn’t need the bicycle to reach people anymore, so she steered the bicycle into the cave, her powerful legs could rest.

Stretching her wings, she flew out of the valley that she calls home, away from her cave dwelling. She flew up towards the peak of the mountain which had hidden the sun, and was now bathed in glorious sunshine.

She reached the suburbs, flying above the houses as her wings directed her. Locating the house, she descended and landed on the porch. Her wings folded away, and into her back, blending into the flesh as if they were never there.

She rang the doorbell.

“Are you the doctor?” A ghastly old lady with filthy matted hair peered at her from behind the door.

“Well yes, I suppose I am, where is the patient?”

The old woman, rather rotund and unkempt in appearance, missing a front tooth, presented an odour best described as rotting cheese, mixed with urine. While retching, she followed the old lady down the hallway.

“Come on then, hurry up, there he is!”

He was on the bed, in putrid, fetid sheets, sweating in pain, the bullets had penetrated his stomach and upper rib cage.

“Well go on then, you are the healer, bloody well heal him then! Ted she’s here! She’s here my boy!”

“Ma’am I will need you to step out of the room”

“Listen you, I am his mother and I never leave my boy!” she showered the healer in spittle, her breath of rotting flesh, because of visible gum disease, mingled with the rancid cheese and urine, in a cocktail of funk.

“Leave or he dies. It’s your choice? Oh and sign this before I start.”

The old lady’s signature was barely legible ‘LS Bundy’, scrawled by a fat hand with stubby fingers and dirty, broken finger nails.

She didn’t really need the old lady to leave the room, but she thought that it would be difficult to concentrate with the stench.

Now alone in front of ‘Ted’, she felt sick. How could she heal this psychotic, violent, murderer? This was the first time he had received a taste of what he deserved. How many had he killed?

‘I am not doing this. I can’t heal this filth.’

The rebuke was immediate “Revenge is not yours. The little girl down the road is dying of cancer, think of her, and heal him! Leave judgement to me.”

That little girl was worth more than a million of him, how many more would he kill once healed? Does she lose her wings and healing powers to let the scum die, and curse the little girl down the road, and curse many more? Or does she heal him and the little girl, and curse others? 

Recommended1 Simily SnapPublished in Flash Fiction, Mystery/Thriller, Spirituality

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