| The Committee |
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CHAPTER 1
He studied the five spirits floating before Him. They shimmered and glowed softly.
Lighter than a whisper they were translucent, He could look right through them if He
chose to, instead His gaze pierced each one. And they beamed at Him basking in
His love and attention.
“You know why you’re here don’t you?” He asked, His tone pleasant and lyrical. Not
the earth shattering voice most
people thought He always used. He only got loud when upset.
They all nodded.
“It’s time for my daily nap, and you five have been selected to serve on The
Committee.”
The group didn’t know whether to pump their fists in the air, give shouts of excitement
or quake with fear. None of them knew the etiquette of earning such a coveted spot
on The Committee so they reverently eyed Him, waiting for His next words.
“Michael had given each of you profiles on two of my children that I would like you all
to keep an eye on while I’m asleep.”
Clay Peterson raised his hand. He used to be a garbage man, thirty years of his life
had been spent picking up strangers’ trash. His job had given him an exclusive
insight into human nature but the back-breaking work had left his body bruised and
battered. Every winter had brought with it a cold that seeped into his bones locking
them up. The only thing that relaxed them was his nightly ritual of an ounce of
bourbon while enjoying the warmth from his fireplace. But none of that mattered now,
in his new home, the pain was a memory.
He nodded at him, encouraging him to talk.
“Um,” he stuttered still awed by Him. “I mean, what would you like us to do?” he
finally stammered.
He smiled benevolently. He knew Clay would have questions. Clay was very
methodical and thoughtful. “My children will be encountering some difficult times in
their lives, and I want you all to assist them on their journey. Since coming Home you
have accumulated an insurmountable amount of knowledge. So use it. One caveat is
that you all must agree on every decision. And remember that sometimes the best
decision isn’t always the most popular one.”
Clay grinned, satisfied with the answer. I’m up to the challenge, he thought and he
felt His response.
“I know you are,” He telepathed, connecting intimately with Clay.
Clay glided happily, feeling at one with Him. He momentarily took in his
surroundings. Flowers sprouted up ten feet with colors so vivid that they’d blind a
human. And lush grass, spread out as far as the eyes can see, was so high that an
individual could easily get lost in it for days.
When he had first come Home, he was overcome by the beauty of it all. He’d sit for
hours drinking in the crystalline birds that soared through the air, leaving trails of vivid
purple, red, blue and other unworldly colors behind, it was so magnificent that he
would’ve cried if it was possible.
Beautiful, he reflected before rejoining the group.
“Who will be in charge? And what happens if we can’t come to an agreement?” Brett
Thompkins asked. In his other life he had been nicknamed Golden Boy, not only
because he resembled one with his blond hair and blue eyes, but every deal he
touched made millions. As a CEO, he had ruled his corporation as though it was his
own country. At the height of his career, he fired hundreds of his employees, then two
months later purchased a five million dollar corporate jet, a move that made him the
most hated man in Chicago. His desire to control didn’t diminish—not even here.
He tilted His head and grinned. “You are delightful. No one is in charge. You all will
agree on every decision, and I want you all to respect it. And I have some rules.
Under no circumstances can you alter the health of anyone. You cannot make direct
contact with anyone other than your charges. And keep your visits to Earth to a
minimum. You all should have ample time to do your job for I’ll be asleep for two
hours.”
Two years their time, Tyrell Jackson silently calculated. As a kid he sold drugs, it was
the only life he knew. He sold them to everybody: Kids, pregnant women and senior
citizens, as long as they had money, they were customers. It wasn’t until he was
nineteen-years-old and sitting in the hospital with a gunshot wound in his stomach
did he realize that he needed a new life. As soon as he was released from the
hospital, he took all the money he had accumulated and moved to Atlanta. There he
hired a personal nurse who took care of him while he recuperated and who had later
became his wife. She had fallen in love with his boyish good looks. Culinary school
soon followed, for thirty years he ran one of Atlanta’s best soul food restaurants.
He floated in front of them. “Any more questions?” He asked, His voice tired.
“What happens if we can’t complete the task? It is a huge assignment,” Mavis
Watkins said. For ten years she was a stripper by the name of Cinnamon Twist and
was as flexible as a Slinky. After years of saving her money she had gone to school
and gotten a master’s degree in social work, then spent another twenty years
rescuing her former co-workers and everybody else who needed it.
“You will,” He answered confidently. “Anything else?” No one said anything. “All right
then. I’ll see you in a bit.” With a slight smile, He slowly evaporated.
They looked at each other, unsure of what to do next.
“I thought we were done with work,” Brett joked. “These are supposed to be my
golden years. It sure feels like it.” A warm breeze flitted by. Acres of greenery
stretched out behind him.
“But we’re going to be helping people,” the ever optimistic Rachel Pruitt said, “and
maybe we can get our wings.” Contrary to popular belief, everyone who made it to
Heaven wasn’t automatically winged. They had to earn them, much to Rachel’s
disappointment. She had been preparing for her new home her entire life. As a
daughter of a preacher and a wife of one, she figured she’d be given a free pass.
Growing up she always envisioned herself sporting a pair of pure white wings while
zooming around Heaven.
“I wonder why He picked us?”
“Yo, I wanted to know the same thing, but I was too scared to ask. He still makes me
nervous,” Tyrell admitted.
Mavis agreed. “I know, even after all this time. I still get nervous whenever He comes
near me.” They all agreed.
“I guess our numbers came up. You know what I’m saying?” Tyrell joked.
The Committee wasn’t a secret, everyone knew about it, but no one knew how He
selected the members. All they knew was that a new Committee was created every
day during his nap time.
Brett snorted. “He never does anything randomly, everything is done with a purpose.
I think He picked us because we’re the best,” Brett said arrogantly. This time all eyes
turned in his direction.
“Maybe,” Mavis offered, “or maybe, just maybe He wants us to learn something.”
“Maybe He wants us to teach instead of learn,” Rachel said.
“Yo, He could want us to do both,” Tyrell offered. He spoke from experience, he had
spent a lifetime being a teacher and a student of life.
“It doesn’t really matter why we were picked, the fact is that we’ve been picked,” Clay
said. Everybody turned to him, he had been so quiet, that they had forgotten he was
there.
Brett spoke, “I guess it doesn’t matter why we were picked, but we damn well better
have a clear idea of what we’re supposed to do.” The group gasped, no one swore
here, ever.
“Brett!” Rachel admonished.
“And now we know why you haven’t been winged yet,” Clay muttered.
“Oh and I just love yours,” Brett shot back sarcastically.
“Yo, let’s stay on track,” Tyrell said. “We don’t have a lot of time. You know what I’m
saying?”
Mavis glanced at a three hundred-foot time piece. Instead of minutes it measured
days. A team of angels suddenly converged on the piece, they peacefully floated
around it, then as if pre-arranged, six flew to the bottom and six soared to the top, then
they flipped it. Rocks the size of beach balls slipped down. “You’re right. We’d better
get on it, time is running out, and we’re wasting it by all this bickering.”
“Okay guys let’s review the files,” Brett said. The only sounds were birds singing and
water crashing against rocks while they read their information. “He says that there’s
a looking glass for us to view the subjects,” he said as soon as they were done.
“A looking glass?” they murmured to themselves.
Mavis pointed to a pond that was so still it looked like a mirror. “What about that?”
Their eyes widened, that pond wasn’t there a second ago. No matter how long they
were in Heaven, they still weren’t used to His powers. Brett led them to a pool of
water.
They all peered intently into the pond, an image of a lady and man eating dinner in a
restaurant materialized. “I see our first project.”
“She’s pretty,” Clay murmured. She looked like an old girlfriend.
“She looks so happy and in love. It looks like she has everything, what are we
supposed to do with her,” Mavis wondered.
He studied the five spirits floating before Him. They shimmered and glowed softly.
Lighter than a whisper they were translucent, He could look right through them if He
chose to, instead His gaze pierced each one. And they beamed at Him basking in
His love and attention.
“You know why you’re here don’t you?” He asked, His tone pleasant and lyrical. Not
the earth shattering voice most
people thought He always used. He only got loud when upset.
They all nodded.
“It’s time for my daily nap, and you five have been selected to serve on The
Committee.”
The group didn’t know whether to pump their fists in the air, give shouts of excitement
or quake with fear. None of them knew the etiquette of earning such a coveted spot
on The Committee so they reverently eyed Him, waiting for His next words.
“Michael had given each of you profiles on two of my children that I would like you all
to keep an eye on while I’m asleep.”
Clay Peterson raised his hand. He used to be a garbage man, thirty years of his life
had been spent picking up strangers’ trash. His job had given him an exclusive
insight into human nature but the back-breaking work had left his body bruised and
battered. Every winter had brought with it a cold that seeped into his bones locking
them up. The only thing that relaxed them was his nightly ritual of an ounce of
bourbon while enjoying the warmth from his fireplace. But none of that mattered now,
in his new home, the pain was a memory.
He nodded at him, encouraging him to talk.
“Um,” he stuttered still awed by Him. “I mean, what would you like us to do?” he
finally stammered.
He smiled benevolently. He knew Clay would have questions. Clay was very
methodical and thoughtful. “My children will be encountering some difficult times in
their lives, and I want you all to assist them on their journey. Since coming Home you
have accumulated an insurmountable amount of knowledge. So use it. One caveat is
that you all must agree on every decision. And remember that sometimes the best
decision isn’t always the most popular one.”
Clay grinned, satisfied with the answer. I’m up to the challenge, he thought and he
felt His response.
“I know you are,” He telepathed, connecting intimately with Clay.
Clay glided happily, feeling at one with Him. He momentarily took in his
surroundings. Flowers sprouted up ten feet with colors so vivid that they’d blind a
human. And lush grass, spread out as far as the eyes can see, was so high that an
individual could easily get lost in it for days.
When he had first come Home, he was overcome by the beauty of it all. He’d sit for
hours drinking in the crystalline birds that soared through the air, leaving trails of vivid
purple, red, blue and other unworldly colors behind, it was so magnificent that he
would’ve cried if it was possible.
Beautiful, he reflected before rejoining the group.
“Who will be in charge? And what happens if we can’t come to an agreement?” Brett
Thompkins asked. In his other life he had been nicknamed Golden Boy, not only
because he resembled one with his blond hair and blue eyes, but every deal he
touched made millions. As a CEO, he had ruled his corporation as though it was his
own country. At the height of his career, he fired hundreds of his employees, then two
months later purchased a five million dollar corporate jet, a move that made him the
most hated man in Chicago. His desire to control didn’t diminish—not even here.
He tilted His head and grinned. “You are delightful. No one is in charge. You all will
agree on every decision, and I want you all to respect it. And I have some rules.
Under no circumstances can you alter the health of anyone. You cannot make direct
contact with anyone other than your charges. And keep your visits to Earth to a
minimum. You all should have ample time to do your job for I’ll be asleep for two
hours.”
Two years their time, Tyrell Jackson silently calculated. As a kid he sold drugs, it was
the only life he knew. He sold them to everybody: Kids, pregnant women and senior
citizens, as long as they had money, they were customers. It wasn’t until he was
nineteen-years-old and sitting in the hospital with a gunshot wound in his stomach
did he realize that he needed a new life. As soon as he was released from the
hospital, he took all the money he had accumulated and moved to Atlanta. There he
hired a personal nurse who took care of him while he recuperated and who had later
became his wife. She had fallen in love with his boyish good looks. Culinary school
soon followed, for thirty years he ran one of Atlanta’s best soul food restaurants.
He floated in front of them. “Any more questions?” He asked, His voice tired.
“What happens if we can’t complete the task? It is a huge assignment,” Mavis
Watkins said. For ten years she was a stripper by the name of Cinnamon Twist and
was as flexible as a Slinky. After years of saving her money she had gone to school
and gotten a master’s degree in social work, then spent another twenty years
rescuing her former co-workers and everybody else who needed it.
“You will,” He answered confidently. “Anything else?” No one said anything. “All right
then. I’ll see you in a bit.” With a slight smile, He slowly evaporated.
They looked at each other, unsure of what to do next.
“I thought we were done with work,” Brett joked. “These are supposed to be my
golden years. It sure feels like it.” A warm breeze flitted by. Acres of greenery
stretched out behind him.
“But we’re going to be helping people,” the ever optimistic Rachel Pruitt said, “and
maybe we can get our wings.” Contrary to popular belief, everyone who made it to
Heaven wasn’t automatically winged. They had to earn them, much to Rachel’s
disappointment. She had been preparing for her new home her entire life. As a
daughter of a preacher and a wife of one, she figured she’d be given a free pass.
Growing up she always envisioned herself sporting a pair of pure white wings while
zooming around Heaven.
“I wonder why He picked us?”
“Yo, I wanted to know the same thing, but I was too scared to ask. He still makes me
nervous,” Tyrell admitted.
Mavis agreed. “I know, even after all this time. I still get nervous whenever He comes
near me.” They all agreed.
“I guess our numbers came up. You know what I’m saying?” Tyrell joked.
The Committee wasn’t a secret, everyone knew about it, but no one knew how He
selected the members. All they knew was that a new Committee was created every
day during his nap time.
Brett snorted. “He never does anything randomly, everything is done with a purpose.
I think He picked us because we’re the best,” Brett said arrogantly. This time all eyes
turned in his direction.
“Maybe,” Mavis offered, “or maybe, just maybe He wants us to learn something.”
“Maybe He wants us to teach instead of learn,” Rachel said.
“Yo, He could want us to do both,” Tyrell offered. He spoke from experience, he had
spent a lifetime being a teacher and a student of life.
“It doesn’t really matter why we were picked, the fact is that we’ve been picked,” Clay
said. Everybody turned to him, he had been so quiet, that they had forgotten he was
there.
Brett spoke, “I guess it doesn’t matter why we were picked, but we damn well better
have a clear idea of what we’re supposed to do.” The group gasped, no one swore
here, ever.
“Brett!” Rachel admonished.
“And now we know why you haven’t been winged yet,” Clay muttered.
“Oh and I just love yours,” Brett shot back sarcastically.
“Yo, let’s stay on track,” Tyrell said. “We don’t have a lot of time. You know what I’m
saying?”
Mavis glanced at a three hundred-foot time piece. Instead of minutes it measured
days. A team of angels suddenly converged on the piece, they peacefully floated
around it, then as if pre-arranged, six flew to the bottom and six soared to the top, then
they flipped it. Rocks the size of beach balls slipped down. “You’re right. We’d better
get on it, time is running out, and we’re wasting it by all this bickering.”
“Okay guys let’s review the files,” Brett said. The only sounds were birds singing and
water crashing against rocks while they read their information. “He says that there’s
a looking glass for us to view the subjects,” he said as soon as they were done.
“A looking glass?” they murmured to themselves.
Mavis pointed to a pond that was so still it looked like a mirror. “What about that?”
Their eyes widened, that pond wasn’t there a second ago. No matter how long they
were in Heaven, they still weren’t used to His powers. Brett led them to a pool of
water.
They all peered intently into the pond, an image of a lady and man eating dinner in a
restaurant materialized. “I see our first project.”
“She’s pretty,” Clay murmured. She looked like an old girlfriend.
“She looks so happy and in love. It looks like she has everything, what are we
supposed to do with her,” Mavis wondered.