A/N
I've never written fantasy—not sure how great this story will be.

Raphael

Humans are mortal and fragile beings. By joining them, I made the conscious decision that I, too, would become mortal and fragile. I yearned for it to become my reality, a life filled with the sights, sounds and smells I'd only dreamed of or seen through my friends over the years. I was fully aware of the sacrifices and risks that loomed ahead, but I'd prepared myself for a long time. Years of conflict raged within me, a battle between my own wants and the desires of others. Year after year, as Abraham blossomed into adulthood, my heart yearned to be a permanent part of his world, to share in his joys and sorrows. There were always one or two I struggled to let go, and Abraham was one of them.

Abraham and I spent hours playing tag on the playground. His parents were the types who made him play outside, so I'd often come in handy. He wasn't like the other kids with cell phones and video games. One time, Abraham jumped off the swing in mid-air and twisted his ankle when he landed. As he cried and writhed in pain, there was nothing I could do to make it better. Words could only do so much. It wasn't like I could pick him up and carry him back to his house.

Over the years, decades, and centuries, I'd taken on many forms: fearsome dragons, playful puppies with soft fur and wagging tails, cuddly kittens purring contentedly, fluffy bunnies twitching their noses, slow and steady turtles, and often, a child—a best friend, brother, or sister, a comforting presence in their lives. Meeting new children was always interesting, fun, and challenging all at the same time. No matter my form, I always ended up with sick or troubled children. It went against policy, but Abraham, with his gentle nature and quick wit and creativity, had stolen a piece of my heart. Abraham conjured the image of his perfect man. As a human, I'd discover I was far from perfect.

My time with Abraham lasted nine years—an unusually long period compared to my previous experiences. Abraham possessed a rare kindness, a beautiful heart that shone through in everything he did. His smile was so warm and genuine; he could heal anybody with it, although this wasn't the case when we first met. His transformation was incredible to watch. The sickly, troubled boy blossomed into a conscientious, polite, and kind young man. I was the first one to recognize the good and kindness in him.

Not too long ago, my wish became a reality.

I had no idea what would happen after the switch. Everyone experienced things differently, or so I was told. Change from one being to another involved a leap of faith. I took that leap, and here is what I found:

A frail, aging woman lay in bed with blankets up to her chin, staring up at me with a glimmer in his eyes as if she recognized me. I was certain we'd never met. "It's you." Her chapped, narrow lips barely moved as she spoke. "Thank God it's you. I've been waiting for you. I'm ready."

No adult had ever seen me, but this woman saw me. Who did she see? What did she see? My purpose here was to find Abraham, not to take her to the afterlife. That was never my role.

"Eek!" A high-pitched squeal of surprise escaped a woman's lips. "A naked man! You can't be here! How'd you get in here? Who are you?"

As this woman hit me over the head with a pillow, I backed myself into a corner and slid to the floor, holding my knees to my bare chest, not sure what else she would do to me. My shoulders shook, and I hadn't yet understood that I was both cold and scared.

"You disgusting young man!" the woman spat.

My eyes darted around the dimly lit room. Candles flickered on the dresser and nightstand while a group of five women in dark dresses surrounded the bedridden woman. These women, cloaked in simple habits, were nuns, servants of God, paying their last respects to their sister. A hush fell over the room as the women stared, their faces a mixture of shock and disbelief. Everyone listened to the dying woman's whispers.

"He's come for me. He's here to take me to the afterlife. The time is now."

But I wasn't there for her.

A brief silence filled the room as all eyes turned to me. I hadn't yet found my voice.

"I saw him, Sister Margaret," a woman said. "He glowed like an angel... and then the glowing disappeared... God must have sent him."

"You're hallucinating, Sister Evangelista," Sister Margaret said.

"No, sister, I saw it, too," another woman said.

Four women bowed their heads toward me. I didn't deserve their devotion or praise.

"Come here," the dying woman called to me, extending her skeletal arm.

With hesitation, I rose to my feet, my stomach in knots. As I approached the woman, someone draped a blanket over my shoulders. Vulnerable and exposed in front of their judging eyes, a sense of shame washed over me. Shielding my male nudity, I wrapped the blanket around me like a cocoon. As I stood beside the bed, the woman's frail hand reached for mine, her skin cool and papery. I'd never touched a human before.

"There's no need to be afraid," she assured me. "You're safe here."

This woman, with her gentle smile and reassuring presence, made me feel safe and welcomed in this world. "What's your name?" I asked, hearing my voice for the first time.

"Sister Agnes."

"If he's a messenger from God, wouldn't he know your name?" Sister Margaret said. Although level-headed and practical, Sister Margaret was also dubious and skeptical. I tried to set the record straight, letting them know I was no messenger from God.

"I'm not a messenger. I'm here to see a friend."

"Who are you and what are you doing in Sister Agnes's room?" Sister Margaret persisted.

I wished I had a good answer for her, but I didn't, so her question remained unanswered. An unexpected tremor ran through my body, a shiver that surprised and confused me. I didn't understand what was happening to me. No one else in the room shook the same way I shook. I trembled both on the inside and outside. Even my lips quivered.

The room spun as my knees buckled, cold sweat trickling down the sides of my face. My eyes wandered around the room, my breathing growing shallower, searching for anyone or anything that might help me. That's the last thing I remembered about my first night as a real live human being.

The next time I opened my eyes, I was in a bed and no longer naked, clothed in pajamas. Sister Agnes, whom everyone expected to die, sat beside my bed. Dressed in a traditional habit, she held a pair of rosary beads close to her heart. No longer as frail or sickly, she looked ten years younger.

"Good morning, Raphael," she said.

Confused, I sat up, scratching the back of my head, wondering how she knew my name since I never told anyone.

"How are you feeling?"

I couldn't explain or describe how I was feeling.

"You gave us quite a scare last night. You didn't come to take me to the Lord, did you? You came to heal me. Why did you do that?"

"I didn't heal you."

Minutes before my arrival, everyone expected Sister Agnes to take her last breath. That obviously didn't happen.

"Then how do you explain why I'm still here?"

"I can't explain it. Tell me how you know my name."

"I just knew. Something happened when you held my hand. I haven't felt this good in years. I feel like a new woman."

My stomach made an unusual noise I'd never heard before.

"Oh, dear, you must be hungry. Come. Let's get breakfast. We'll finish this conversation later."

Sister Agnes led me to a dining hall where a room full of women greeted me. The room fell silent; the only sound was the gentle tick of a clock on the wall. My stomach continued to growl as I breathed in the aroma of food.

Sister Evangelista pulled out a chair for me. "Please, sit."

Doing what I was told, I sat between her and Sister Agnes. A plate laden with buttery toast, crisp bacon, and fluffy scrambled eggs arrived, courtesy of the youthful Sister Catherine. "Is this for me?" I asked, admiring the plate in front of me.

"Yes," Sister Catherine replied. "Enjoy."

A low murmur rippled through the group as they stared, their eyes making me squirm with discomfort when all I wanted to do was eat for the first time. For a moment, I missed being an imaginary friend until I put a piece of bacon in my mouth. Closing my eyes, I relished the taste, enjoying the crunch between my teeth. I ate all four pieces within seconds with the nuns watching my every move. These women clearly thought I was something more than a man. Some viewed me as a divine figure, a god or prophet, but in reality, I was neither.

"I'm not God," I stated definitively, bringing the cup of steaming hot liquid to my nose, breathing in the delicious aroma.

But the delicious aroma didn't match the taste. The acrid, bitter taste made me grimace and I nearly spit it out. I hastily returned the cup to the table, eager to try something different. The orange drink caught my eye. I picked up the drink and took a sip, discovering I liked that drink much more than the coffee drink. After gulping it down, I sought another one. Sister Catherine fetched me another drink even before I asked her.

Everyone assumed I cured Sister Agnes when I did no such thing. "It wasn't her time," I insisted.

"It was my time," Sister Agnes stated. "You intervened."

I assumed that once I became human, I'd be ordinary; indistinguishable from anyone else, living the average life, with its usual mix of joys and sorrows. But I started to wonder if I wasn't as ordinary as I thought I was... as I was supposed to be. After months of fighting cancer, Sister Agnes's body finally gave out and she lost the fight. Just when she found peace with her fate, I came along.

"We mustn't tell anyone," Sister Evangelina said. "We must keep him safe."

"I think we should say goodbye to him and send him on his way," Sister Margaret said. So far, no one agreed with her.

"He can stay on the third floor," Sister Catherine said. "The retreat isn't for another three months."

I listened to their quiet voices as they plotted my future to secure my well-being and safety as I finished my breakfast.

"I guess you were starving," Sister Agnes said to me. "Did you enjoy it?"

"Yes. Very much," I replied with a smile. I could have eaten another plate if someone let me, but I didn't want to be greedy. These women had been so kind to me. Instead of calling the police, they showed surprising compassion and acceptance. Sister Margaret never carried through with her threats.

But I didn't want to hide on the third floor. I had things to do, like find Abraham.

I had no choice, though. With nowhere else to go, I accepted their help and did what they wanted me to do. They wanted to protect me from the world I desperately longed to experience. But I had no money and no clothes. I had no means to do anything I wanted to do. I needed their help.

"You're all so kind," I said. "But I need to find my friend. I hope you can help me. His name is Abraham Brewer."

One sister abruptly jumped up, a frightened gasp escaping her lips, and stormed off, glancing over her shoulder, suddenly as scared as she had been the previous night.

"I'm sorry for causing you all so much trouble," I said. "That was never my intention. I'll go wherever you want."

"No, it's not that," Sister Agnes said, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Doctor Abraham Brewer is my doctor. He was treating my cancer."

"Oh, you know him!" I exclaimed, my eyes widening in surprise." Although I understood the life-threatening nature of her cancer diagnosis, the urgent need to reach my friend overshadowed everything else. "Will you take me to him?"

Before I could go anywhere or do anything, I needed to do something about the building pressure in my lower abdomen, a vague discomfort I didn't immediately associate with a full bladder. My knee bounced up and down as I crossed my legs. Sister Agnes came to my rescue. "Let me show you to the bathroom," she said.

Sister Agnes accompanied me to a bathroom down the hall. I'd seen toilets before, but I never had a reason to use them. I had a good idea of what I had to do and didn't need her help. She agreed to wait outside.

While relieving myself over the toilet, I noticed a mysterious shadow on the wall. That shadow was me. I'd observed people wash their hands after using the toilet, so I did that, too. Intrigued by the water, I held my hand under the tap, alternating between hot and cold water. The reflection in the mirror distracted me. A blond-haired, blue-eyed man looked back at me. I'd never seen my reflection before. It suddenly became all too real.

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