In the higher ranks of Heaven, another angel was dying. It would be so bad since when an angel “dies”, they are reborn in another form. However, her problem came from the fact that she hadn’t created anything. There was never enough time to think about things like that. When she learned that she was going to experience a star death, she decided to try and create something before she died. However, she didn’t know how to go about doing it. So, she turned to an old friend for help.
“Sure,” her friend said. “I’ll help you.” The dying angel bowed her head.
“Thank you, old friend,” she said.
“Come with me,” the friend said. She led her back to her own apartment.
The dying angel’s mouth dropped when she saw the kitchen. The open space contained a huge pot in the center surrounded by racks and racks of jars. She walked in, looking around.
“What is this?” she asked. Her friend walked up next to her, smiling.
“Welcome to my kitchen,” she said. “We will begin here.” The friend walked over to the shelves. “Pick out what you what to use.” The dying angel covered her agape mouth.
“Anything?” she asked.
“Yes,” her friend said. The dying angel looked through the tiny glass jars. She could hear each little note singing to her. Their humming stirred something in her heart.
“Let’s see…” she said. Her fingertips caressed the glass before one note sang loudly to her.
“This one,” she said. The dying angel’s hand drew out a jar of chocolate. Her friend gave her a strange look as she turned around. Her dying friend frowned.
“No good?” she asked.
“No, no,” her friend said. “That would work.” She took the jar out of her friend’s hand and poured it into the pot.
“Now what?” the dying angel asked.
“Pick the next thing,” her friend said.
“Just like that?”
“Okay…” The dying angel looked through the shelves of jars again. In ten minutes, she pulled out stars, dried strawberries, blueberries, rice, milk, grass, chilies, and beer. The friend let up the fire under the pot and watched it boil.
“What do we do now?” the dying angel asked.
“We wait,” her friend said.
“For how long?”
“Days, mostly. Sometimes weeks.”
The dying angel frowned. “I don’t think I have the time.” She looked up at her friend. “May I try something?”
“What?” her friend asked. The dying angel reached into the pot and shoveled the chalky substance into her mouth. She waited until it disappeared into her belly. Her friend’s jaw dropped.
“What did you do that for?!” she shouted.
“I don’t have much time,” the dying angel said. “My body could help the process grow faster.”
“But you might die.”
“At least, I might get to see my creation.” The dying angel sank to her knees, panting. Her friend raced over to her and pulled her into her arms.
“Take it easy, okay?” she said. The dying angel pushed her away.
“No,” she said. “I will be fine. Let me do this.” The dying angel pushed herself to her feet and wandered out of the kitchen, carrying her stomach. Her friend watched with worry in her eyes.
“At least, stay with me until your creation is born,” she said. Her friend looked back and walked over to the couch. The other angel smiled and joined her in the living room.
“Good girl,” she whispered. The dying angel closed her eyes and went to sleep. Nine months later, a little baby was born. Her friend shipped the child to earth and acted on the dying angel’s final will.
“Please call her Biko,” she whispered before closing her eyes for the final time. Years later, Biko would eat up on a small island off the coast of Japan.
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