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Description
The little boy came to her as she died. She lay flat in a hospital bed, was surrounded by hospital machinery, hissing and beeping the way hospital machines do.  The boy was nude, and glowed faintly, as if he were a poorly matted special effect.

"Are you an angel?" she gasped out.  It was hard to breathe, even harder to talk, and she was certain it came out slurred.  But he smiled just the same, shook his head.

"No.  What's an angel?"

Despite herself, she chuckled… an awful sound.  He moved in close, took her hand, waited for her wracking cough to subside.  His hand was small and warm in hers;  she gripped it as hard as she could, which was not hard at all, grateful for the warmth of contact.

"But… I'm dying.  You're here to take me, aren't you?"

"No.  I'm just here."  He cocked his head quizzically.  "What's it like to die?"

Oh brother.  She closed her eyes, calmed her breathing, used the machines' metronome-like beeping as a focal point.  When she opened her eyes again she fully expected the hallucination to be gone.

But it wasn't.  The naked golden child still stood politely by her bed, hand warm in hers.  Seeing her eyes open, he leaned in close, sniffed her, stood back again.

"You smell like you're dying," he observed.  "What's it feel like?"

"Like… going to sleep?  You're so tired you can't stay awake, and eventually you give up.  Let go, drift away.  Anyway, that's what I imagine it's like."

He nodded at this.  "What's sleep?"

"You're kidding.  Who are you?"

The boy bit his lip, looked away conspiratorily before leaning in close to whisper.  "I'm not supposed to be here at all.  But I was passing by, and saw you, and wondered.  So tell me.  What's it like?"

"To die?"

"Yes!"

"Sorry, kid… I can't explain it, nobody can.  And now I'm tired.  It's something you have to experience for yourself."

"Okay," he brightened, nodding once.

She staggered, gripping the withered hand, balancing on suddenly stubby legs, heart pounding impossibly fast with hummingbird speed.  In surprise, she gasped--

Inhaled.  God, the perfection of it.  Lungs full of air, without pain!  Instead of gasping, she laughed.  It came out as musical child's laughter.

And her eyesight, her vision… she saw perfectly in the dim hospital room, saw herself – her old self -- laying in the powered bed.  That old withered husk, that shell of what she was before.

It was trying to talk, so she leaned in with perfect, golden ears.

"Oh my," the creature on the bed gasped.  "This is… wonderful."

It turned to her, smiling as it died, and she held its hand.

Description
The little boy came to her as she died. She lay flat in a hospital bed, was surrounded by hospital machinery, hissing and beeping the way hospital machines do.  The boy was nude, and glowed faintly, as if he were a poorly matted special effect.

"Are you an angel?" she gasped out.  It was hard to breathe, even harder to talk, and she was certain it came out slurred.  But he smiled just the same, shook his head.

"No.  What's an angel?"

Despite herself, she chuckled… an awful sound.  He moved in close, took her hand, waited for her wracking cough to subside.  His hand was small and warm in hers;  she gripped it as hard as she could, which was not hard at all, grateful for the warmth of contact.

"But… I'm dying.  You're here to take me, aren't you?"

"No.  I'm just here."  He cocked his head quizzically.  "What's it like to die?"

Oh brother.  She closed her eyes, calmed her breathing, used the machines' metronome-like beeping as a focal point.  When she opened her eyes again she fully expected the hallucination to be gone.

But it wasn't.  The naked golden child still stood politely by her bed, hand warm in hers.  Seeing her eyes open, he leaned in close, sniffed her, stood back again.

"You smell like you're dying," he observed.  "What's it feel like?"

"Like… going to sleep?  You're so tired you can't stay awake, and eventually you give up.  Let go, drift away.  Anyway, that's what I imagine it's like."

He nodded at this.  "What's sleep?"

"You're kidding.  Who are you?"

The boy bit his lip, looked away conspiratorily before leaning in close to whisper.  "I'm not supposed to be here at all.  But I was passing by, and saw you, and wondered.  So tell me.  What's it like?"

"To die?"

"Yes!"

"Sorry, kid… I can't explain it, nobody can.  And now I'm tired.  It's something you have to experience for yourself."

"Okay," he brightened, nodding once.

She staggered, gripping the withered hand, balancing on suddenly stubby legs, heart pounding impossibly fast with hummingbird speed.  In surprise, she gasped--

Inhaled.  God, the perfection of it.  Lungs full of air, without pain!  Instead of gasping, she laughed.  It came out as musical child's laughter.

And her eyesight, her vision… she saw perfectly in the dim hospital room, saw herself – her old self -- laying in the powered bed.  That old withered husk, that shell of what she was before.

It was trying to talk, so she leaned in with perfect, golden ears.

"Oh my," the creature on the bed gasped.  "This is… wonderful."

It turned to her, smiling as it died, and she held its hand.