Child abuse is real. So are angels. Renowned story
teller and childrens' advocate Roger Dean Kiser shares
his own true angel story. It really happened ... to him!
The Magic Letter
Copyright 1999-2005 Roger Dean Kiser
Reprinted with author's with Permission.
Once again, I had run away and really do not know why
I would walk out the gate to go to school and then keep
walking, and walking, and walking. I had just turned
eleven-years-old the week before. It was almost dark;
I was tired, scared, cold, and all alone. I had not
eaten all day and was afraid to turn myself in to the
police. I knew I would receive another beating once I
returned to the Children's Home Society in Jacksonville,
Florida. There was nothing for me to do, except keep on
walking.
As darkness fell, I made my way over to the city park
located on Park Street. I entered the darkened area and
sat down on one of the wooden benches hoping to avoid the
police cars. It was cold and I began to shiver
uncontrollably. All was quiet except for the passing cars
in the distance.
"Well, hello young man." A voice came from behind me.
I jumped, almost falling off the park bench. My heart was
beating ninety miles per hour, and I could feel it thumping
in the side of my neck. I gasp and I could hardly catch my
breath. I looked up and saw a woman standing behind me in
the shadows.
"You look cold," she said.
"I'm cold. I'm real, real cold." I continued to shiver.
"Here wrap this around you."
I watched as she took off her shawl and wrapped it around
my shoulders.
"But ain't you gonna be cold now?"
"I'll be ok."
"Is there anything else you need?” she questioned.
"I sure could use some food."
"Follow me," she said.
I walked with her about twenty feet, then she stopped
under one of the park streetlights.
She held out her hand and said, "Here, you take this
letter and give it to the store owner."
I looked at her outstretched arm but saw nothing in her
hand. "There's nothing in your hand," I told her.
"Roger, reach out and take the letter from my hand,"
she replied.
Slowly I reached out, acting as though I was taking
something from her hand.
"Now close your thumb and finger and hold the paper tightly," she instructed.
I closed my thumb and finger as though I were grasping
the letter.
"Take it to any store owner."
"What do I say to them?"
"Nothing," she replied.
"But what store do I go to?"
"It doesn't matter," she said, as she smiled.
I turned and began walking toward Five Points. Several
blocks down the road, I came to a store with a woman
sitting behind a counter. I opened the door, walked in,
and stopped directly in front of her.
"Can I help you?" asked the woman.
I was hesitant to talk and had no idea what I should say.
Very slowly I held out my hand toward her. I watched her
face to see if she might think I was crazy or something.
"Is that for me?" she asked.
"Yes Ma'am.” I looked down at the floor.
She reached out and as her hand touched mine, I opened my
tightly closed fingers and stood there waiting. She pulled
back, smiled, and looked down at her hands.
She immediately turned and walked to the back of the store.
I began to inch toward the front door for fear she might be
calling the police. Just as I made it to the front door, I
stopped as I heard someone call my name. I turned around and
saw the woman holding a paper plate.
"Roger, here is something for you to eat."
"How did you know my name?" I asked her.
"It was on the paper."
"But there wasn't no paper. I didn't see no paper,"
I told her.
She smiled and motioned for me to eat by twirling her finger
in front of her mouth. Within two or three minutes, I had
downed the entire plate of food and several coca colas.
"Are you full?" she asked.
"Yes Ma'am."
"Then it's time for you to go."
I turned to leave when I felt her hand on my shoulder.
"Here, your paper. You almost forgot your letter,"
she said, holding out her hand.
Again seeing nothing, I held out my hand and closed my thumb
and finger as though I were taking something from her. Tightly
grasping nothing more than air, I walked out into the street
and headed back to the park. When I arrived, the old woman
was sitting on the park bench. "Did you eat?" she asked.
"Yes Ma’am, and I had two coca colas too."
"Good."
"How do you do that magic?" I asked her.
"It’s not magic."
"But how does everyone know my name?"
"It is written in the letter."
"Can I have the letter so I can be magic too?" I asked.
She reached out, took my hand, and opened my tightly closed
fingers. Whatever was being held between my fingers, she took
and placed into her apron pocket. "Would you help someone if
they were hungry?" she asked me.
"Yes Ma'am.
"Would you help someone if they were hurt, cold or scared?"
"Yes Ma'am. I would be their friend."
"Roger, you are very lucky little boy. You will never need
the letter," she responded.
She stood up, kissed me on the forehead, removed the shawl
from my shoulders, and began walking down the sidewalk. I
watched as she disappeared into the darkness.
About the Author:
A real-life Tom Sawyer, Roger Dean Kiser's stories find a
common ground in each of us. His website is one of the
most visited child abuse websites on the Internet. Orphaned
and abused as a child, Roger now champions the cause
of orphans and abused children around the world.
Please help Roger spread the word about child abuse by sending
this article and website link to your friends. Read more
of the author's inspiring stories at:
www.rogerdeankiser.com
