2This is a short story so there are not going to be any more chapters. Also I'd like to say to any reviewers that notice all the misspelling, I never bother to spell check so there will be many spelling errs in my stories, some more then others.
Gone with the angels
I stared in aw at the sight before me. There's just no way I thought as I began to climb over the jagged debris toward the small child who sat happily playing with what was left of her doll.
It seemed impossible but there she was in the midst of broken glass, splintered wood, piled up cars, and collapsed houses; calmly perched on the trunk of a up rooted tree and smiling as if her entire village had not just been torn up by a hurricane.
Slowly I approached the child and said hello in the native language. The little girl turned her charcoal colored face toward me and beamed. "Hello", she replied in Jamaican. I smiled back as kindly as I could.
"My name Is Jessica Charleston; would you like some help getting down?" The little girl nodded and took my hand as I helped her descend from the dangerously unstable tree.
"So what were you doing all the way op there?" I asked to distract her as I searched for wounds.
"I was waiting for the angels". Surprised I looked up.
"Angels?" She nodded her head, here braids bobbing around her small face and her dark eyes going wide.
"They forgot to take me with them", She exclaimed pointing to the sky. I looked up but saw nothing but the receding clouds of hurricane Ivan. "They went up there but they didn't come back" the little girl said. My confusion must have shown because she began to gesture more insistently. "They went up, up with mama and papa!" Grimacing I suddenly understood.
"Your mom and dad are gone?" she smiled and nodded.
"Gone with the angels".
I could feel my heart breaking as I stared down into her innocent little face. She, like so many others, didn't deserve this. Mentally I added two more dead to the other nine bodies I and my team had found.
"What's your name?" I asked as I wrapped her in my thick rescuers coat. "Raka", she said; happily snuggling into the warm material. I paused; blinking tears from my eyes; Raka meant joy. I knew then that I didn't have the heart to tell her she was an orphan.
I felt a little better after I had handed her over to the medics but before I could leave she stopped me.
"They will come back for me wont they?" she asked her little face showing her worry. Trying my best not to cry I nodded.
"One day they will", then quickly as I could, I turned and disappeared into the crowd of rescue workers clearing the rode.