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From The Turn of the Karmic Wheel by Monica M. Brinkman
Angela was from the East Coast, where she’d grown up in a little town called Langhorne, a suburb of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.
It was a very small town, but one that had everything she could wish for, in a small town sort of way. Good schools, the local theatre called The Langhorne Players and fine food from locally owned restaurants and diners. Not like the fast food joints that had taken over the ‘ma and pa’ shops from her childhood.
Being an only child, she surely received more presents on her birthday and the holidays than most children, but her parents were stricter than strict when it came to responsibility. They made certain that Angela did chores around the house and showed good behavior before any presents would come her way. Not a spoiled child, although perhaps a bit pampered now and then, but she figured, what child isn’t from time to time? One thing she was glad her parents were strict about was that she excel in her schoolwork. She remembered her mother telling her, “You have the brains to do whatever you desire in your life, so take advantage of it. In my day, women didn’t have the opportunities that are given you. No woman needs a man anymore, Angel.” Angel was the nickname Mother gave her. “They can choose to be with a man, not out of need, but out of want, love, and care.” So Mother and Father would not accept anything less from her than the best. No C or even B average, for that matter, would be tolerated. They knew she had intelligence, and made certain she made good use of this wonderful gift. She was their special angel. If only she had possessed the courage to let them in on her ‘little secret’, the one she hid from anyone and everyone. She supposed fear kept her from opening up. When she was small, she had tried to explain what was going on in her head.
One vivid memory was of lying in her twin bed, amidst the down comforter and pillows. Suddenly she was transported upward, above the roof of the house, into the night sky, among the stars, and found herself hand in hand with the most beautiful being she had ever seen. Certain it was an angel, she had no fear and willingly flew up into the night, around the town, and into the universe of stars. Such a calm feeling of peace surrounded her; moreover, she felt total bliss and pure love. Eventually, she’d be back in her own bed, fall asleep and have the most pleasant dreams, filled with magical music, magnificent beings and the sensation of pure love. Voices played in her head, sending messages of hope, peace, and universal kindness.
The next morning she awoke, so excited to share this journey with her mother and father, yet when she told them of her adventure she was met with punishment and disbelief from both, along with a sharp slap across the face. “Angela, you stop saying such ungodly things this very second,” scolded her mother. “I’ll wash that mouth out with soap. I’ll clean those Devil words right out of your mouth. Whatever would possess you, child, to tell such stories and lies? Don’t you dare speak of this to anyone, you hear me? Now go up to your room right this minute, and when you are ready to tell us the truth, you may come back down.” “But, Mamma,” Angela beseeched, “I’m not lying to you. I am telling you the truth. Mamma, I flew up in the sky with an angel. Oh, she was so pretty, mamma, and we went high up in the clouds and saw the stars and she held my hand all the while.” With that, she was again slapped across the face and ordered to her room. Angela remembered crying until all that was left were hiccoughs as she gasped for air and blew her running nose until it turned red. No matter what her mother said, Angela refused to say she lied, so that evening she remained in her room, not allowed to join the family for dinner. “Why, God,” she cried. “Why am I being punished telling the truth? Why won’t they believe me?” This she could never understand, but learned fast it was best to keep these things, her experiences, to herself. She knew the truth and that was all that mattered. It would be her secret for life. From that moment, she never dared let anyone know that she ‘saw things’ and heard ‘messages and voices’. She knew in her heart she was seeing and hearing and living all these moments, but didn’t want to be called names, punished, or tagged as crazy. It was just a cross she had to bear. How much she longed for someone to believe her. Mother and Father said everyone would think her crazy for telling such tales, and they knew way more than her about people, so she heeded their words and never shared her experiences with another soul.
