2 Years, 2 Weeks, 2 Lives

listened.

  Silence filled the room.

  “Use all of your senses.” His father’s voice urged.

  “How?” Eric replied into the darkness before a thought hit him. He delved into his pocket and brought out his phone, quickly thumbing the commands on the touch screen to use it as a torch.

  Quickly scouring the room, he realised that there was no young student, and presumed there never had been one. It was a trap, and he’d fallen for it. He resisted the urge to admonish himself.

  “Gather intelligence. In this order, look at the location, the threat, and see if you can retreat, remember location, threat, retreat, and finally fight.” His Dad’s voice echoed in his head as if he was standing next to him.

  Simon Peterson had instructed his son on how to defend himself after Eric, at a very innocent 9 years old, had been at the receiving end of a frenzied attack by two older boys.

  It had been a lovely sunny April weekend. Spring had been in full flow, and this was one of the first days that heralded a warm summer was only just around the corner. The blue sky was dotted with light bright white fluffy clouds, as if in an idyllic child-like painting. Long sleeved tops were left at home as the young Eric ventured out on his first real bike, cycling down the nearby country lanes, heading towards a large local wood, known locally as “Squagsys.” He’d enjoyed the long fast freewheeling down the hill that headed to the entrance of Squagsys woods, and as he neared the gates to the old derelict Hall had met two 12 year old boys heading in the opposite direction. Being a pleasant and friendly young lad, Eric was more than willing to make a new friend, and so let the boys ride his bike. After a short while Eric had tired of the games and decided he wanted to be on his way, to enjoy his own company once more. The older boys weren’t pleased that their games were being ended so soon by this mere child. They refused to let the young Eric have his bike back, and when he’d finally shouted at them was met with a quick and solid punch to the face. The second boy liked the look of what his friend had done, and decided to do the same, enjoying the ease that they could punch this young boy. More and more punches were thrown, and when the young Eric stumbled and fell, they decided that it was easier to kick. Kicks and punches rained down on the boy, the more he wailed, the more it brought delight to their attack. The frenzied onslaught continued for many minutes, both 12 year olds being whipped up in the delight of inflicting so much pain and punishment. They taunted and laughed at the defenceless crumpled heap of a battered, bruised and bloodied body of the 9 year old, right up to the moment that he stopped breathing.

  Panic ripped both boys, the pleasure crushed in that final blow.

  Eric’s mind drifted away, as if on the white fluffy clouds that floated lazily in the gentle breeze high above his broken body. He was amazed at how he could go from a moment of being repeatedly punched and kicked from head to toe, the excruciating pain building more and more as each part of his body screamed for release, to the almost celestial release as his heart stopped.

  “Flamin’ ‘eck!” One boy backed off, fearing what they’d done.

  The other moved forward, extending his index finger and prodding tentatively at the clump of bloodied rags that contained the limp, lifeless body.

  “What you doin’?”

  The other boy poked Eric once more. “Seein’ if ‘e’s dead.”

  Eric floated above his body, as if sat on a cloud a short distance above. He looked down, puzzled at the sight below him. It took a few moments to understand the scene, before realising that it was him lying in the middle of the road, one boy poking his empty shell, one taking slow steps away.

  “That’s you.”

  Eric looked at the woman who had appeared beside him on the cloud. “Yes, but how?”

  Her smile felt as warm as the sun. Her eyes sparkled with life and excitement, but looked so kind and helpful. She wore a long golden silk dress, which lightly shimmered and flowed, and her long blonde hair lifted off her shoulders in the breeze, like a sea of barley in the fields on a summer’s day. “Hello Eric. My name is Amari.”

  “Hello.” Eric’s brow furrowed a he looked from the beautiful lady beside him, down to his limp body which seemed to be further away.

  “You have a choice to make.” Amari’s smile held his gaze.

  “Oh, OK.” Eric was even more puzzled. “So what are they?”

  “You can either come with me, or return.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’m sorry, but I cannot tell you.”

  “And do you mean return to…” He looked over the edge of the cloud. “Return to my body down there.”

  “Yes.”

  “So I’m…” The word caught in his throat. “Dead?”

  “Not yet, but nearly,” Amari held her hand up to stop his question. “And you only have a short time, as you are getting further and further away.” She motioned for him to look and see his body shrink smaller and smaller as the cloud lifted up higher.

  “So if I go with you, am I going to Heaven?”

  “I’m sorry, but I cannot answer that.”

  “But you’re an Angel.”

  Amari smiled, and her radiance glowed. “I cannot answer that either.”

  Eric peered over the side, fearful at their height, hoping he’d not fall off. He could just make out the shape of the older boy, poking his body, and wondered what would happen to him if he returned. Would they continue the beating? His young mind raced over the consequences, if the continued, he’d be dead anyway, and back here once more. He looked up, and saw a faint glow in the distance, like a train coming out of a dark tunnel, its light reaching out into the daylight.

  “I don’t know.” He scratched his cheek. “Maybe I should just go with you.”

  “If that is your decision, then so be it.” Amari smiled.

  “But my Mum and Dad.” Eric’s thoughts came out. “I don’t know.”

  “Eric, coming with me isn’t the end, but I can tell you that staying here will be the start of many great things, far greater than you’ve ever imagined.” Amari placed a warm hand on his shoulder. “I should not have said that, but I believe you need to know.”

  Eric looked over the side of the cloud. He could make out the black line, denoting the road where he lay. Green areas bordered the line, but he could see no detail.

  “But what if I go back and they simply carry on?”

  Amari shrugged her shoulders, gently.

  “I know, you can’t answer that.”

  She smiled.

  Eric took a deep breath, strengthening his resolve. “I’ll go back, because I think I’ll know when I’m ready to go with you.”

  Amari’s smile broadened, her radiance glowed even more.

  Eric had to squint as Amari’s glow grew brighter and brighter.

  “Well done, you may not realise it yet, and you will not remember my words, but you are destined to be the Greatest of them all.”

  Eric held his arm in front of his face as Amari’s brilliance increased.

  “Good luck Eric.”

  A flash of light and he was back in his body.

  Eric took a sharp breath, the pain in his side biting him. “Argghh!”

  The boy poking him leapt back in shock. “Flamin’ ‘eck, e’s alive.”

  The other one had been holding his breath as he stepped slowly away. He now let it out in a long slow blow of air. “C’mon, lets just go.” He grabbed his friend by the hood of his top and dragged him away.

  “Nah, the git had me scared, we need to teach him a lesson.” He snatched his hood out of his hands, but then stopped and looked at the body in the road.

  Eric felt the pain bite in his side, then in his legs, his head pounded like a jack-hammer was bouncing around inside. He felt warm blood dribbling from his broken nose, down and cross his lips, and onto his cheek. He could feel that some had dried, the beating had been going on for so long. Bruises filled with fl
uids, and his eye felt as if it was standing a foot away from his face, It had swollen so much. Yet, with all that pain, he remembered the words Amari had said, “you are destined to be the Greatest of them all.”

  Here he was, a broken battered and bruised 9 year old boy, on the edge of dying, and yet he was destined for so much. The absurdity of it all felt so funny, that Eric started to laugh. A couple of coughs followed as the pain sliced across his chest, the broken ribs digging deep inside him. Yet, he still laughed, more and more, as hard as he could.

  “C’mon, he’s lost it, lets go before someone sees us.” The one who had been backing away grabbed his friend once more. “He’s alive, and he’d learnt his lesson.”

  Eric continued to laugh, clutching his body, curling into a ball as the pain hurt more. The strange part was that the laughing helped the pain.

  “OI!” A voice shouted in the distance.

  Eric never heard it through his laughter, but the thugs did, and they saw the man standing at his gate further along the lane and realised it was time to scarper.

  It took a few weeks before Eric was back at school, enjoying the company of his peers. He never felt scared or concerned, and his ability to trust anyone and everyone he met was not diminished. Simon Peterson realised that his son was the better person for being that way, but he knew he had to give him some lessons in life’s harder knocks. He taught his son how to defend himself. This was not only from the known threats, but to see the unknown. He showed him how to evaluate a situation, locate the threats, and be ready to