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Nine Minutes in Heaven

by David Connor

Nine Minutes in Heaven - David Connor & E.F. Mulder
Editions:Kindle
ISBN: B07TBZ9QMX
Pages: 212

After a series of tragic events, Goose Tucker’s guardian angel Jefferson tells him the choice to live or die is his, but also warns the time to decide is limited.

Goose’s beloved Patrick is always in Heaven when Goose arrives there. They pick up right where they left off on Earth, continuing their love story that began in Tennessee. Goose longs to be wherever Patrick is, but there are no guarantees the two will land on a similar fate.

Goose still has unfinished business back on Earth with Shelby, Rip, Carrie, and Wilbur. They need him, he is told, and this makes his decision, Heaven or Earth, happily ever after with Patrick or being there for those left behind, all the more difficult. How can he choose?

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Excerpt:

Well, I made a choice. I was pretty sure I had. I was awake, at least part of me was. There was no grogginess, which led me to assume I wasn’t the kind of awake that was normal in the afternoon when I got up from sleep after work. There was no pain, which I doubted would be normal after hours of surgery. I saw no rainbow bridge and I sensed no Patrick, though. “So, where the hell am I?” I whispered. “Yikes! Not there, I hope.”
The feeling of being responsible for Patrick being hurt, gone in my vision of Jefferson’s wedding, had returned full-force, so maybe I was in hell, and maybe I deserved to be. Patrick loved me still in Jefferson’s Heaven and in the one we’d shared in the meadow and on the boat. On Earth, how could he or anyone who adored him ever forgive me? I knew, sure as shit, I would never forgive myself.
“Hmm.”
The ER waiting room came into focus. I was there—sort of

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not standing in the corner or sitting in one of the uncomfortable chairs, but there. I saw a bunch of people of varying ages, a big group of redheads, with some blonds and brunettes scattered among them in different ethnicities. Patrick’s family, I recognized. There were at least twenty-five of them. Across the room, sat Shelby and Rip, all by themselves.
“Am I a ghost?” No one looked when I spoke, so I shouted. “Am I a ghost?”
Still, no response, not even a glance.
I made my way over to my sister and Rip, got right in his face and yelled, “Boo!”
Not even a flinch.
“Boo!”
I jumped, though, when Jefferson did it to me.
“Sorry, I couldn’t resist.”
“Where are you?”
“You can’t see me?”
“No.” I was trying.
“Well, I’m here.”
“I’m glad you’re here, wherever here is.”
“My best guess is you’re now stuck between realms,” he said.
“That’s not good.”
“Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. Your indecisiveness most likely has led to it.”
“Shame on me.”
“Being stuck between what you want and what you feel. Back and forth…back and forth you go. You want to be loved but don’t feel worthy. You know logically you’re not responsible for Tom’s actions, but on the other hand, you wish to be punished for them. Because of this, you’ve put yourself in some form of purgatory.”
“Maybe it’s fitting,” I said. “I don’t deserve to be alive if Patrick’s not. On the other hand, the perfection and wonder of Heaven, being there and enjoying an eternity of love with him? I hardly deserve that, either. The worst of both worlds is definitely fitting.”
“Goose…”
“It’s true,” I said.
“It’s nonsense.”
“This according to Jefferson. Who are you, all of a sudden, Jiminy Cricket, trying to be my conscience all up in here?” I asked him.
“I’m trying to help you see common sense. If you can’t, you might never move forward.”

COLLAPSE

About the Author

I feel blessed to have a creative mind, even if my thoughts and moods are often jumbled. I might sometimes not stick with "write what you know" but I always write what I feel, which often results in characters who struggle with uncertainty, anxiety, too many thoughts in their head, or other social issues, like me. I also write a lot about nature, animals, music, creative arts, and hope.


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