When Angels Fly........by Kim Sirrah

Book 1  The Sacred Heart Saga......Chapter 1  Our Story Begins

She felt like her heart was going to jump right out of her chest! The air was cold and crisp; their lungs burned as they finished their three-mile run. Fall had arrived early, bringing with it a storm, and the next few hours would be all they would have before tragedy would change her life forever.

Peter and Hailee Richards had been married for five years. They had spent three of those five years renovating an old Victorian circa 1911. They were close to being finished, and it had been a true labor of love. For the first time since they had been married, Hailee would enjoy family antiques from generations that had been in storage for years. When she and Peter had married, her father had given her all of the family Christmas ornaments she had growing up. This would be the first Christmas in the beautiful new home that she and Peter worked so hard together to build.

Hailee Elizabeth Bradford was born October 23, 1979, in Ketchum, Idaho, to John and Clair Bradford. Her mother was diagnosed with breast cancer shortly after Hailee's second birthday and was unable to have any more children. John hired a Shonshone Indian woman to cook, clean, and take care of Clair and Hailee. She went by the name of Sadie and lived in an extra bedroom in the house. Sadie raised Hailee and loved her like her own daughter, braiding her hair before school and teaching her about the tribal customs of the Shoshones.

Every year the day after Thanksgiving, John took Hailee, along with a thermos of hot chocolate and lunch, and went into the woods hunting for the perfect Christmas tree with a sled tied to the back of the snowmobile. Clair would stay back and carefully unpack the hand painted ornaments, some of them close to seventy years old. Hailee was always excited to bring home the tree and tell her mother and Sadie all about their holiday ritual. Hailee could tell that her mother was growing weaker, and that year she decorated the tree by herself while Clair lay on the couch under a quilt in front of a crackling fire. As her mother watched Hailee with loving eyes, she was wondering if there would come a day when Hailee would not remember her.

Clair asked Hailee to get the Spirit of Christmas from out of her box. The Spirit of Christmas was a beautiful angel that went on top of the tree. Hailee opened the box, carefully taking the angel out, and her father would lift her up so that she could place the angel on top of the tree. Then she went over to her mother and together they sat "gazing" at the beautiful tree that Hailee had decorated. John turned out the lights in the room and the tree lit up, like twinkling stars in a sky.

Clair explained to Hailee that Christmas that soon an angel would fly down to take her to heaven. She said that every year after she was gone, when Hailee placed the angel on top of the tree, the magic of Christmas would bring them together in spirit. There wasn't a present under the tree that could make Hailee forget that she was in her final days with her mother; there was no hopeful expectations for a bright and shinny New Year.

Wherever Dead Was....by Kim Sirrah

There was a time I thought life was as simple as opening your eyes every morning while breathing in and out. Or maybe it was the billions of thoughts crossing my mind consciously and unconsciously everyday like a continuing circle, with no beginning, and no end. I know now that there is nothing simple about life. My name is Mia Anderson I am sixteen years old; and I ask myself this query because I've been to the other side, for lack of a better discription. I died...so they tell me. If it was death, I can most definitely testify death is not the end; because wherever dead was, there was life, and I too was very much alive.

My story has no ending as I continue my quest to reconnect with the place I encountered on the other side,in another world, or maybe it was this world. I don't know, but I yearn to get back to wherever it was that I was transported to when my heart stopped in this world.

It was so beautiful, so magically intoxicating this paradox, and impossible to discribe the transforming effect this place had on my body and my mind; I could only comprehend that I was no longer in my earthly form. Before my transformation was complete, the doctors brought me back to this world, before I could totally understand my purpose. If given a choice, I most certainly would have stayed in that most beautiful supreme place.

My mother apparently died with me in the fire that consumed our small home in the Malibu Hills. The Santa Ana winds haunted our home in the canyon year after year, blowing their ciders of destruction by random, selecting to devour any structure by flame that stood in it's hungry path. Hardly a year ever passed we were not advised to evacuate, as flames would threaten our little wooden 1960 bungalow style house. Our good fortune ran out in September of 2007; setting my fait on a different course. A fait that would but me between two worlds, one of the living and one of the dead. Condemned to this worldly body until I can find a way back to him, he who holds the key to my existence and all the answers to my life and essential purpose.