THE LIVING FLAME 

By Tessa Harvey


    Peter felt angry. If God was real, then why was he sick? He hated having asthma. He longed to run and play soccer of baseball.
    The doctor was being called away, but gave him nose prongs for oxygen instead of the mask. She ruffled his hair, knowing he was upset. He wished he could talk to her.
    "Visitors' time," called Dr. Niederburger to all the children who made an effort to sit up for their families and friends.
    Eliana came first, bounding in half-dropping some comics and grapes. "Oops! - glad you are alive, bro!" He laughed, grateful for her love. Then his parents came through the ward doors, happy and encouraging. "You can come home tomorrow," dad announced, "want to do some fishing?" Peter nodded, grateful for the distraction. He loved being with his dad by the quiet grassy bends of the nearby rippling river. In his mind, he saw it rushing, swollen with winter floodwaters from the mountains, placid in summer, light reflecting like tiny sparkles.
    Mum hugged him, thankfully. "Made your favourite coconut cake," she whispered. "Party time to celebrate." He smiled happily.


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Image
THE LIVING FLAME  By Tessa Harvey     Ernst and Daria stood just inside the kitchen doorway, stunned and silent. It seemed to both of them that the world had suddenly tilted on its axis. They had stopped talking about mum more than two years ago.     Mum had slipped out for her usual after tea evening walk. Dad was in the tiny room he called his study, wrestling with his tertiary accounting homework. Mum was late. The two youngsters went outside to wait. Eventually they heard little paws pattering. Heidi crept up to them, shaking, tail down. They carried her inside, all three of them shivering. The little terrier was cut and bruised, but she wanted to go back out. Mum didn't come. Dad went out by himself with his torch.     Nothing. The police came and the next day specialists who knew the area. Nothing.     Daniel was questioned for hours. The children stayed awake, waiting, listening. Despite many searches over weeks, there was no trace. Th...
Read more
Image
THE LIVING FLAME  By Tessa Harvey     After all the students, chattering like sparrows, had gone home by car, school bus, walking or cycling, Helga was busy checking her students' work.     There were two quick taps on her closed classroom door. Helga's heart beat fast. This had been happening more lately and the young teacher had no idea why.     "Come in," she called, bravely, assuming it was a student and a parent as one tap was lower than the other. The door opened and Gamsiz' head peeped around, his lovely wide smile erasing her nervousness.           A very pretty lady followed him, dressed in lovely vibrant colours. Like her son she was dark-haired with milky coffee coloured skin. Immediately she smiled exactly as her boy did and Helga happily beamed back at her visitors.    "This is..." began Gamsiz, but gently his mother tapped his shoulder. "I do this, Gamsiz, okay!" He smiled up at her with so much lov...
Read more
Image
THE LIVING FLAME  By Tessa Harvey     When Peter was discharged the next morning, the youngster was quiet. Eliana thought he was tired.     "What is wrong, little brother?" she asked. It was a joke as she was two years younger. "Guillame died after all," he replied, sadly.     "Was that the boy you rang to get help from the medical staff?" asked his mother softly.      "Yes - do you think I could have got help faster?"  "Hang on, son," his father broke in, " you also pressed the alarm button on your bed, didn't you?" He was driving through town.     Finally Peter smiled. "Yes, I did. I forgot."     "Ernst wants to see you after school. He said he would call in to say hello," Eliana informed them all. She sounded proud an older boy had spoken to her.     They pulled up outside their two-story semi-detached three bedroom home.     Peter smiled again. Even after a short hospital stay, the flowers...
Read more