Luckily, Emily started gaining consciousness after about twenty minutes. When she came round, she seemed slightly confused, but then the recent occurrences caught up with her, and she found her head starting to throb.
She held a hand up to him, to stop him from saying what he was going to say, clutching her head in her free hand, and trudged across the grass in the pouring rain to the medical room where her emergency insulin was kept.
She laid down on the sick-bed with her hair like snakes, dripping wet.
She hated having to have the injections, but she’d rather have them than pass out.
When the school nurse walked out of the room, she was flicking through a magazine; she noticed some words in it that applied to Michael: mysterious, caring, strange, unreal, mind-reader, fallen… Then suddenly it hit her. Michael was a fallen angel.
All of a sudden, she felt a sharp pain in her shoulder, and upper arm, and it slowly spread across her shoulder blades until it was across the top of her back, and then eventually, across her chest.
She found it hard to breathe, and from being a first-aider, knew immediately that she was having a heart attack. Sure, yes, what’s the worst that could happen? This is what happens when you say those fateful words.
She noticed the bright light again, though nobody around her batted an eyelid, and found herself rising, leaving her body behind. These were no Martians. They were beautiful, blonde, winged creatures, and Emily knew where she was going. She was going to visit her Mother.
When she stopped rising, she noticed that her lovely brunette hair had turned blonde, and that her clothes had changed colour: white. She was stood just outside some pearly gates, where an old man was there with a scroll and quill.
“Name?” He grumbled.
“Emily Smith.” She mumbled, but he seemed to have heard her.
“Ah yes, we had your Mother a few days ago.” He chuckled.
She then proceeded on to some angels that were waiting for her; the ones that had brought her up.
“Turn around.” They commanded simultaneously, and she did so.
“Now, this might hurt, just a little bit.” The taller angel smiled, spitefully. Yes, that’s very heavenly behaviour.
“What are you-” Emily began, but then was cut off by a sharp stabbing pain to her back, not unlike when she had the heart attack, and then weight, that made her stagger forwards.
“Wings,” the chubbier angel explained. “And don’t forget to wax them once a month.”
She found a hut with her name tag on that looked identical to her room at home, apart from the fact that her wardrobe, or rather the contents of it, were white.
She took a look in the long mirror, and saw that her wings were very long, and feathered.
She took out the dressmaking scissors from her drawer, and cut her wings until they were just little stubs (obviously not able to feel pain; you couldn’t feel anything in this new body), and then everything disappeared. And she was falling through the open air, until she landed with a thud, on the leaf-covered ground, in her non-white school uniform next to Michael. She had two scars on her back, and someone she could now call her twin, of course nobody else would understand their little joke, unless of course, they happen to have been to heaven.
Emily knew, now, what Michael had meant by her being the ‘chosen one’. She had been ordained to die from the second she was born. She had always been destined to visit The Pearly Gates.