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Four little heads, bowed in a row over their bedside, each child's two little hands clasped together tight. Their mother comes and kneels beside the first, clasping her hands together and begins in prayer.

Now the light has gone away,
Father listen while I pray,
Asking Thee to watch and keep,
And to send me quiet sleep.

Her voice gently rattled as she spoke the words, trying to, but barely keeping rhythm. After she had finished the verse, the first child, a young girl, started hers.

Jesus, Savior, wash away,
All that I've done wrong today,
Help me every day to be,
Pure and gentle and more like Thee.

The first tear began to roll down the mother's cheek, her eyes squeezed tightly shut, trying to seal in the salty promises. The first child had finished, her head still bowed, her small hands still clasped tightly, eyes closed. The second child, a small boy, his blank blue eyes remained open, but he spoke in order, his voice soft and sombre.

Let my near and dear ones be,
Always near and dear to Thee,
Please take me and all I love,
To Thy heavenly home above.

The mother choked back her sobs, quieting herself by biting her tongue, the blood starting to marinate her tongue. She swallowed back her blood and fear and the next child, another young girl began her prayer.

Thou my best, my heavenly friend,
Thou wilt love me to the end,
All my blessings come from Thee,
Oh how good you are to me.

Reclaiming her calm, she did not interfere her children's prayers. The next child's head was bowed, she too was a girl, the smallest of them all.

Now my evening praise I give,
Thou didst die that I might live,
All my blessings come from thee,
Oh how good thou art to me.

With the last girl having finished her verse, their voices raised together.

Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord my soul to keep,
If I should die before I wake,
I pray the Lord my soul to take.
Amen.

All their lips moved in unison, save one pair; the little boy's. Instead he gazed at the wall, absentmindedly. His pupils were non-existent, just the blue, the lively, oceanic, breath-taking blue. It looked like a war of blue hues, the colors seemed to crash inside his silver lined irides. His eyes were both chaotic and sombre.

The mother stood, quickly wiping away her tears so none could see. The little girls' heads were still bowed, but the boy, still upon his knees turned his head, facing his mother, his blue eyes mercilessly staring up at her. She gazed into his eyes, knowing he could not see her stare. Those eyes of his terrified her. They were like two tiny mirrors slipped into his sockets, mirrors that you did not look back at, but mirrors that looked back at you.

"Yes, dear?" she softly asked, trying to escape the silence between them. The other small children rose from their places, all three then slipped into the bottom bed of a bunk bed. The mother smoothed out her bright white dress, waiting for a reply, but the boy gave none, still upon both knees, hands clasped. The mother then sighed, gently smiling, giving an effort to lighten the mood. She stepped towards the boy, crouching down, she reached her hand out to gently caress his cheek with her fingertips.

His cheek was smooth, and reminded her of her children's innocence. She again sighed, then pulled her son into a loving embrace, holding him tightly. She ran her fingers through his dark hair, and kissed his forehead out of bare desperation to feel he was still there, her tears running down her face. That they were still there, together. She then pulled back from him, still holding his face in her hands, his eyes still ceaselessly staring.

"Mother," his lips finally parted to release his soft voice, "Why are you crying?" The three little girls looked up from their bed, putting their eyes on their mother, curious.

The mother froze, "Crying? Don't be silly, dear. Now get to bed." The little boy still gazed up at her. She turned away from his gaze, and went to her bedside, gathering up her night gown in her trembling hands. She unzipped the back of her dress, facing away from the children. Leaving her undergarments on, she slipped her night gown over her head, then looked back to her son.

She searched in his eyes, knowing that her answer would not satiate him. She raked through her mind, trying to find an answer, then finally one came. "I... am happy," she said slowly to her children. All three of the little girls' heads popped up, their eyes glued to their mother's frame. The mother went to her son and picked him up in her arms, carrying him over to the little girls' bed at the bottom of the bunk. She sat the boy next to his sisters, then, sat next to him. "You see... I had a vision earlier today."

"Of what?" the tiniest girl asked, looking up to her mother, her big blue eyes full of curiosity. The other two girls mimicked the smallest girl's gaze, longing for the answer. The boy's gaze was thrown off to the side, his eyes glazed over, as if he were in a trance, but he was just listening.

"Well, an angel came to me, children," she told her little ones, softly smiling. The children only grew more curious.

"An angel?!" the biggest of the small girls repeated, "What did she look like?"

"She was very beautiful, with golden hair and bright blue eyes. She wore a gorgeous long dress of white and had feathery wings. Atop her head a halo sat. This angel said to me, that all of us had been invited to live in the Heaven's gardens."

"But how do we get there?" the smallest girl asked, her voice cheery but frail.

"The angel, she told me, that tonight, we shall go to rest, and when we wake, we shall awake in His gardens. But, the angel warned me, she said not to open your eyes, not for any thing, or you might not be able to reach Heaven. The angel said it would be cold until we got there, but not to worry. She said no matter what do not open your eyes, so children, can you do that for me, so that we can reach our new home?" the mother asked her children, her eyes bright. All the children nodded, except the boy, he kept silent, staring off into the nothingness. "Good then, children," she smiled, "Now to bed, little dears!" And with that the three little girls smiled, excited, their eyes already shut tight. Their mother smiled, but silently weeped. She tucked them in to their bed, then gave them each a kiss goodnight.

She looked to her son, "Get to bed, sweet son." He nodded, feeling for her hands, then she helped him in to his bed, helping him up the top bunk. She followed him up halfway. She looked to him, watching as he slipped underneath his blankets. She gently caressed his face then softly whispered, "Goodnight, Emmanuel." She then kissed his cheek and climbed back down the short ladder.

Emmanuel listened as she got into bed herself, he could hear her praying then silence. For awhile, Emmanuel lay there, hearing nothing but his sisters' soft snoring. Then he heard a loud groan, like some slayed beast's last cry before its death. He could hear weight pound against walls. Water began to trickle in from the ceiling, falling upon his face. He opened his eyes, hearing the water splatter against the ground. His sisters still snored quietly. Then suddenly, he heard their door swing open. Water roared in like a gushing river. He laid still in his bed, hearing nothing from his siblings or mother. Soon enough, he couldn't even hear his sisters' quiet snores. Not even a breath. With each passing moment he could hear the droplets of water pound louder and louder against the water that was quickly rising.

The cold sting hit him like sharp knives into his side. He winced with pain and shock. The water rose along his body. He shut his eyes tight, remembering what his mother had said. The water soon enveloped his entire body. He could only hear the water swirling around him in a mad frenzy. All he could feel was cold pain and then numb. The back of his eye lids started flickering; bright flashes of light. He closed them tighter then finally gave in, opening his eyes.

At first, he was confused, his mind was clashing. Maybe it had been the pain from the ice numbing temperature his body had been engulfed in. Maybe the shock. Then he realized, it was nothing but vision. He could see. The water made him gently rise, as if he were levitating. The water held him above his bed, making his body gently sway with the movement of the water. He searched and could see his mother, firmly tucked into bed. He saw there were no bubbles from her lips. Just a silence.

Light poured into the room, making his body glow in the watery tomb. He still remained slightly above his bed, facing the ceiling. His hair followed the sway of the water, lulling back and forth, raising upwards like frail seaweed. His bright eyes seemed to pierce the water, growing no weaker in intensity. His face was pale, but showed no sign of fear, just a sombre curiousity but with a hint of realization. Small bubbles escaped from off his small pink lips. He gently moved his fingers, watching the water swish around them. The little heart encased in his chest began to beat faster and faster as he realized that he was running out of breath. He slowly began to sink back down to his bed. With a gasp of desperation he accidentally opened his mouth and the salty water came rushing in.

He quickly sealed his lips shut, then using the rail of the bunk bed, he pushed himself off and out of his bed, propelling himself through the water towards his calmed mother. He reached out and grabbed ahold of her bed, his numbed fingers clutching to the wet blankets that held her down. He reached inside, pulling out her hand and held it, looking to her. He gently kissed her hand and pulled her out of her bed, he pulled her hands so that she shifted upright, then pulled her close to him. He had never seen his mother, never seen her face.

For the remainder of his life, he gently floated in that water, levitating. The water gently swaying them, and together they danced; his dead mother and he. He held her face, caressing her cheek. His tears could not be distinguished from the water, but were surely there. He gently kissed his mother's cheek and embraced her. Then he could see no more and thought himself dead.

All he could feel was the pain, the exhaustion, the cold. But he could breathe and he could hear. Voices, every where, indistinguishable in exact location. He was afraid.

"We have a live one!" he heard a voice cry. Where was his mother? Was she in His gardens? Was he with her?

He was picked up and brought to his feet. His head rushed and pulsed, his thoughts shook up. He opens his eyes, seeing nothing but the dark he had lived with his whole life. Tears began to stream down his cheeks and he was jabbed in the side with a sharp object.

"What's wrong with him?!" a gruff voice questioned.

"I believe he's blind, sir," another sharp voice answered at an instant.

"Blind, eh? Send him to the Elder to be directed," the gruff voice responded. Emmanuel was ushered forward. He didn't know where he was going or who was taking him.

Several hours later, with his feet aching and swollen, from having stood on moist concrete, he had finally come to the three judges. "762," was called out. Emmanuel was pushed forward. He was thrown to the ground and held down, he didn't cry out until a sharp object scraped at the back of his neck, tearing into his flesh. He cried, struggling, but was kicked in the ribs and was silenced. They continued to drive the sharp object along his neck, carving the numbers 762 into the back of his neck. They finally released him.

"Welcome to the game," a voice boomed. Tears fell down his cheeks, his nose becoming soggy with snot. He looked around, his eyes showing fear, though he could not see. He looked as blind as he was.

"Right!" another voice declared, and he was ushered to the right.

That was several months back, and now here he was again. He stood behind 761, hearing the commotion, this had never happened before. 761, Ancelin, was told to go to the right. Nobody knew how to win the game, or if they were winning or losing. Nobody knew what happened after you were told to go left. Were you set free? Or were you killed? Was it a win or lose to go left?

"762," the same voice he had first heard months ago boomed. Emmanuel stepped forward.

"Right," the voice judged. Emmanuel veered slightly to the right, some what relieved yet some what disappointed. He thought to himself, as he too stepped into the woman's blood, that even if he were to die, maybe that wouldn't be losing after all. He wondered if he should be afraid that he envied 760.

He gently whispered to himself, saying his words silently.

Let my near and dear ones be,
Always near and dear to Thee,
Please take me and all I love,
To Thy heavenly home above.

He then repeated himself.

Please take me...
To Thy heavenly home above.

Setting his blind eyes upon 761, who he now knew was Ancelin, he realized he should have never of opened his eyes.