Your Real and True Self

The stadium is dark and silent.  Omega and the gang, and the three tag-along ghosts are standing in the center of the field.  It's completely silent, odd for such a raucous place on a Saturday afternoon.

Then, almost silently comes the fluff of wings.  The sound, muffled and dignified, erupts until it sounds like the sky is filled with wings.   And then they appear.  Thousands of angels appear, hovering in midair.

They are a different kind of angel.  Most of the angels the gang thought about were sweet, womanly, and ethereal.  These angels were men, masculine, massive angels with golden shields, scarlet capes, and a 50 foot wingspan.  They were the ones singing Hosannah, swells of gorgeousness.

Omega stood up, front and center.  "Why are you here?"

"We are here to escort our three boys home—if they wish to come," the angel said.  "Do you wish to find your real and true selves and your real and true home?" he asked the three ghosts.

"Well, yeah, but,"  Harry said.

"Yes, or no," the angel said.  "Be very clear."

"Take a chance on yes," Omega coaxed.

"Yes."  Harry said.

"Yes," Buddy said.

"Yes, Sir!"  Jeremy said.

The three boys were outlined in silver, as the whispy, flimsy, greyish ghostly part of themselves faded, and the flesh and blood part of themselves, grew more and more solid until the boys were taller, more muscular, and, by the looks of things, utterly handsome lads, whom they could have been had they achieved their real, true selves.

They were magnificent.

"Do you wish to be forgiven for all of the mean, naughty things you have done?"  Omega asked.

"Yep," said Buddy.   All of us do.  I think that doing mean, naughty things changed who we were."

"Good thing," Petey said, "that when you know how to do better, you do better."