The Weepers

Later, after they were tired of their game and felt their homage paid, they sat and talked of what they expect it to be like. Bright lights. Cold. A tingle. Nothing at all. Jay felt nothing at all. And as he sat, farther away from the group as any other he thought of the happiness that would come. But he also thought of those who were crying, weeping for their lives and not understanding the possibilities that arose with the face of death. Kyle Simmons, the youngest of all the boys had come up to him as he’d sat there. The boy was only seven but Jay hand felt inclined to let him come along, knowing that remorse held no barriers to age. The young one sat down beside him, staring at the others as they talked, before finally speaking to Jay in a silent, respectful whisper.

"Will I really see them Jay? Will I really?"

Jay turned, and gave a warm smile. He knew of the life that poor Kyle had lived, and felt a warmth knowing that the child would suffer no more.

"Yes." He said warmly. "You’ll see them both, and never again will you be separated for all eternity."

"What’s eternity?" Kyle asked, still not adverting his eyes from the other boys.

"Think of the longest amount of time you could possible want to spend with then, and that’s eternity." Was the reply Jay gave.

"Forever?" Kyle whispered.

"Forever." Jay whispered.

Their time was soon at hand. The boys had climbed up to the bridge and now sat across it, dangling their feet off the edge. Jay had chosen to sit beside Kyle, to comfort the child as best as he knew incase he grew scared. All eight of their heads didn’t look up toward the sky, but down towards the water. There they saw a reflection of the heavens against the water. The air was cold, much colder then before. The time was finally at hand, and not one of the boys wept. Each held to the bridge and smiled, knowing where they’d soon be.

Jay himself thought back to his apartment, to his father sitting in his armchair watching the television. He felt no sadness for not being there; somehow he felt his father knew what he did. His mind shifted to those in the houses all across America, across the world, to those that were crying for their life, or weeping for the lives of others. Jay had once wept for the life of another. Jay had once felt the loss that he thought none of the other’s had felt except these seven boys beside him on the bridge.

Throughout the whole world the weepers cried for their lives and yet these eight boys sat smiling, waiting to be reunited with the mothers, the fathers, parents they’d lost. They’d each have what they most desired; they’d each have their families again.