Angelic

By Nyla Ditson

What happens when neither heaven nor hell will let you in?

Following the crunch of metal and the squeal of tires, twenty year old Celeste Evans is left heartbroken and weighed down with her fathers death. Devastated, she takes her own life, choosing to believe that death is what she deserves, the only answer to her torment. But when she awakes, she is neither in heaven nor hell but a hallway in between life and death. To Celestes horror, neither heaven nor hells door will open.

After a booming voice declares He is not finished with her yet, everything fades and Celeste awakes to find herself sprawled on her apartment floor. This phenomenon is so intriguing that she cant help but want to stick around to see what it all means. Questions after questions are added to her growing pile: Is that beautiful creature, Sebastian, who followed her back to earth an angel? Or what about Kalan, the one with the inky black eyes, could he really be a demon? Only time will tell but Celeste wants answers and she wants them fast

Wouldnt you?

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Aug 29, 2012
• ISBN: 9781475945638

Nyla Ditson

Nyla Ditson resides in the beautiful prairies of Saskatchewan, Canada. She loves salmon, singing worship music while doing dishes, playing guitar and piano, yoga, the outdoors, spring time, playing board games, and baking up a healthy storm for family and friends (tofu brownies, anyone?). Nyla’s currently studying to receive a Food and Nutrition Management diploma. If her readers remember one thing about Angelic, Nyla prays it’s the powerful last line of the book, spoken by God Himself.

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Copyright © 2012 by Nyla Ditson.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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ISBN: 978-1-4759-4562-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4759-4563-8 (ebk)

iUniverse rev. date: 08/24/2012

Contents

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Acknowledgments

Dedication

This book shouldn’t really have my name attached to it. I was simply the fingertips God chose to scribble Angelic in a notebook. God, I asked for an incredible story and You gave me one, exceeding my expectations. Thank You for this amazing journey, story and honour. You are truly the grandest storyteller of all!

Do not forget to entertain strangers, for by so doing some people have entertained angels without knowing it.

Hebrews 13:2 (New International Version)

Chapter 1

I’ll never forget that night. It’s engraved in my mind, like the details inside a birthday invitation.

The date? Sunday, January 4th, this year. Time? Approximately 2:02 am. At least, that’s what the death certificate says. It happened long before the ambulances and coroners arrived though. The place? The highway heading back to Port Coquitlam from my parent’s house in Abbotsford, British Columbia.

I still remember what I was wearing that night; still remember what he was wearing. But I didn’t meet Sebastian until later. I guess I associate my clothes that night with the day I met him because I wore the same thing both times. Funny how two life altering events would have such an irrelevant common denominator. And yet, it’s one that I remember.

My cream beanie clung to the back of my straight chocolate brown hair. I wore the royal blue scarf mom had given me just nine days before, for Christmas, wound tightly around my neck. With my delicate and defined features, Mom sometimes called me her little china doll. She said the deep colour of the scarf made my skin look even more fair than usual.

It was cold and snowy outside, especially for BC. Even with the heat blasting inside the car I’d kept my scarf and grey wool coat on. The lack of fat on my lean runner’s body made it difficult to keep warm.

Meeting my own eyes in the car’s rear view mirror, I frowned. My grey-blue eyes stared tiredly back at me. Even my long hair, usually glossy, looked limp. Too much holiday family time, not enough beauty sleep.

I smiled as one of my dad’s favourite sayings swept through my mind. You, my little star, are prettier than Sleeping Beauty, even without a wink of sleep in ya.

I glanced over at the passenger seat and shared a just-because-smile with my dad.

I’d car-pooled home with a friend, who was headed to Chilliwack. Dad had offered to drive me back to the city, so I wouldn’t have to leave so early on my last day at home. After stopping for gas partway to Port Coquitlam, we switched drivers.

You sure you’re okay to drive, Celeste? My dad asked me with a raised eyebrow.

I stared straight ahead and let out a heavy sigh. "For the fifteen hundredth time, Dad, I’m not tired."

From the corner of my eye I saw him cover a yawn with the back of his hand. Okay. But if you change your mind just pull over. It won’t be the end of the world if you miss your morning classes tomorrow.

I looked at him briefly before turning my eyes back to the road. My fog lights illuminated a thin path in front of me. Without them, I wouldn’t have been able to see a thing. No, it wouldn’t be that big of a deal but I’d rather not. With a huff, I blew at the annoying side bang tickling my left eye.

My dad nodded and then reached into the back of the car and fished around for a rolled up car blanket. After a moment he found it and had it spread across his legs. I’m just going to close my eyes, hun. I’ll turn on the radio, just in case your old man accidently falls asleep. He reached for the knob on the dashboard in between us. A talk show is best, it’ll keep you more awake than just plain old music will.

My frustrated voice froze his hand. Dad, I gestured to the Rolo cappuccino sitting in the cup holder beside me. "I’ve got half the contents of that Styrofoam cup in me and it’s loaded with caffeine. I’m fine."

The hand returned to his lap. Dad shrugged and leaned his head against the headrest. He closed his eyes. Okay, honey, you’re a smart girl. He pulled the fleece blanket up to his chin. I trust your judgment.

Trust. He shouldn’t have used that word, shouldn’t have trusted his life in his twenty-year-old daughter’s hands. Thirty-three minutes later I realized just how wrong he’d been to say those words. I shudder every time I think about his last words to me. I was the last person he should’ve trusted in that moment. Why couldn’t he have just ordered me to pull over and get some rest? But would I have listened anyway, being the stubborn person I am? Probably not, I was still too thrilled with the fact that the absence of a teen after my age meant he was no longer the boss of me. I was a grown woman now. And yet, as a grown woman I made the mistake of not taking my dad’s advice that night. It proved to be the worst decision of my life. One that would change my life in ways that if I told people, they would shake their heads and whisper, this girl needs to see a doctor, there’s something wrong with her.

But, just like this nightmare of my life I’m telling you about is real, so is Sebastian. It took me a while to wrap my head around the concept of him, but when I did there was no going back.

He’s real, just as real as the car accident.

Minutes away from the Port Coquitlam outskirts, my eyes flashed open. They’d been flickering for the past few kilometres. Miraculously, my parent’s silver Honda Civic was still centered on the snowy road.

But being centered didn’t matter much when a deer is involved.

The yellow eyes looked up, the reflection of my headlights shining in them. As soon as I saw him, I yanked the wheel hard to the left. I should’ve yanked right. The ditch would’ve been a safer place to go. But right in front of a Chevy truck is where my reaction took us.

I looked down the road to my left and my eyes widened. Our car was stretched across the left lane, completely in the truck’s way. All I had time to do was gasp and cover my head. The sound of shattering glass came a second later, along with the screaming of tires on the pavement.

The black truck slammed into the side of our little car. The car shook and we were violently pushed a hundred feet backwards from the impact. I felt like I was on a cruel amusement park ride. Everything hurt, but I didn’t know what. My eyes were squeezed shut. I just wanted it to stop.

It felt like eternity but eventually I felt the momentum of the car slowing. Though it had only taken mere seconds from start to finish, my brow and palms were soaked in sweat. Strands of hair were plastered to my wet face. I hoped it was just sweat but from the sticky feel of something trickling down my cheek, I had the suspicion it wasn’t. My lungs cried out for breath and I took a greedy gulp.

I slowly took my hands off my head. The smell of gasoline burning and the knowledge that something horrific had happened came over me. My heart was beating against my chest so fast and hard I thought it might break through my skin. The sickening crunch of metal was still ringing in my ears.

I didn’t want to know what damage had been done. But I looked anyways. Fear sliced through me the second I did. The sight of the passenger door cruelly punched in stole my breath. But the look of the twisted metal door was tame compared to the way my dad looked.

Dave Evans, father of three and only forty-eight years of age, was still strapped in and snuggled beneath the car blanket. Despite his seatbelt being on, his body had jerked forward. He was unnaturally pinned against the dashboard, his face turned toward me covered with blood. It was quickly staining the inflated airbag. I was glad the blanket on him was red. I didn’t want to know what was fabric and what was blood. But he didn’t have a blanket on his face. The drops of rich coloured blood made my stomach heave.

I flung open my door and stumbled into the dark night. There were no sounds from the truck and I had a feeling I was the only one well enough to move. Ignoring the bitter cold air, I dropped to my knees on a snowy patch in the ditch. With my palms freezing on the grounds surface, I surrendered to my body’s request.

After relieving my stomach of its contents, I crawled back towards the car. Somehow I managed to think of calling 911. I told the lady what happened but the shock made my words slurred. When I mumbled something about being able to see city lights and having been headed to Port Coquitlam, the woman reassured me the ambulance would be able to locate us. She told me to stay on the line but I ignored her.

My cell phone slipped from my hands and I let it drop to the pavement. It clattered and a piece of the screen broke off. I didn’t care. I just wanted to see my daddy. The last image I had of him wasn’t right. The shock working its way through my veins and into the centre of my soul urged me to look again. I hoped if I did, I’d see him the way I had at the breakfast table just this morning. Smiling, strong and glowing with healthiness.

Glowing with undeniable life.

I pulled myself up using the wedged open driver’s door. I looked in and my eyes swept over the limp figure of my father. One look was all it took. His open lifeless eyes told me it didn’t matter if the ambulance found us or not. He was already gone.

One week later, after giving a funeral eulogy where I fell to my knees sobbing that I was a killer, I tried to follow my dad into death and I succeeded.

Or so I thought.

Chapter 2

If someone were to stumble upon the diary entry where I recorded what happened next, there would be only one thing I could say to keep myself from appearing delusional.

Oh, didn’t I mention it was just a dream? I’d have to laugh, all the while praying my voice sounded convincing. The detailed descriptions were too vivid to have been waved off as just a silly story I wrote. Blaming the surreal parts on my over active imagination wouldn’t do. From the way I’d hurriedly jotted everything down, it was obvious I hadn’t taken time to think about what I was writing. I’d simply been scribbling down a memory. Something I’d actually experienced, certainly not something I had made up. So I’d say, if anyone asked me, that I did in fact experience it: in a dream. People didn’t have to know it wasn’t actually a dream. But that’s just what I would lead them to believe if need be.

Though the truth is that it had seemed dreamlike at the time . . .

Even when I reread the diary entry to myself I wondered about my sanity. It all seemed so farfetched. But it had happened. Down to the very essence—the core of my being—I know it did. What happened next you ask? Well, what do you get when you have a) a depressed girl with her father’s death heavy on her shoulders, b) a full bottle of extra strength Tylenol and, c) the certainty that your roommate won’t be returning for a few more hours? The answer: a granted death wish.

At least that was the intended plan.

With sixteen Tylenol capsules sitting in the pit of my belly and a handwritten note left on the counter for my loved ones, I lay down on the cool kitchen floor tiles. I closed my eyes, willing away the time until my pain would be no more. I don’t know how long I lay there, but I was patient. Death would be worth the wait.

After a while, spots of colour began to dance behind my closed eyelids. Soft purples, intense blues and oranges. Then came the sensation of falling downhill. Then drifting through a pit of nothingness. Darkness pinned me in on either side. It was neither frightening nor thrilling. It just was.

Above me the image of a bright light began to form. But instead of moving towards it, I was pulled further and further away from it. The ground was approaching, calling my name chillingly.

Celeste . . . Celeste . . . it seemed to whisper.

My body braced itself and stiffened. My stomach clenched and my eyes squeezed shut. But no amount of clenching, squeezing or holding of my breath would do me any good. I could imagine my broken bones cracking against the ground. That was my future; what I wanted. What I deserved.

But an inch from my intended fate, everything changed. Strangely, no pain pulsed through my hands from impact. Though it looked like gravel, the ground was a cushion beneath me.

My heart hammered as I took in my surroundings, suddenly feeling very afraid. I tried to ignore the unfamiliar rhythm of my heart beating. Intimidating cloud like structures loomed over me. They formed what looked like a long hallway, about as wide as four people with arms stretched out. It was eerie here. The clouds with their angry grey and black shades loomed over me, the small helpless creature disturbing their peace.

What was this place? And why was I feeling more afraid by the second? Dying was supposed to make all the hurt go away. I’d done everything right, didn’t I? The note, emptying half the Tylenol bottle in one sitting…

Celeste.

The touch of warmth to my forearm followed the calling of my name. Smooth like cream and sweet like honey was the speaker’s voice. I looked up desperate for my eyes to see the source of that hypnotic sound.

The music of my soul faded, the lights in my eyes stopped flashing. A single beam pointed straight down like a spotlight.

And there he stood.

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As I lifted my head I noted the grey clouds had become white as snow. Long gone were the clouds stormy faces. I had a suspicion it had something to do with the person now in my presence.

I blinked my eyes once. It was no use; the brilliant outline of the creature didn’t dim. Instead, explosive fireworks sounded in my head, clanging in my temples. My pulse raced, my heart skidded in my chest as I tried to soak up all the loveliness of him.

He was the most magnificent thing in the world. His face shone brightly, illuminated as if by the sun itself. Wisps of golden hair covered the crown of his head. As he moved, with grace beyond my