LAILAH

by R. C. Perkins

1st Place, Prose, Create | Encounter 2026

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Halfway through another night, and she felt like a failure. Her bright golden wings spread apart to illuminate her heavenly domain. One by one, she watched a million new souls infuse themselves into their new home. It was a moment that had always filled her with such joy.  But then she turned to the ones nearly a week old and helplessly watched as nearly half of them perished because they could not implant into the uterine wall. Lailah sighed as she watched the lights go out by the thousands. She sighed once again, knowing that even after being implanted, only a third of them would make it to their first birthday. The others wouldn’t finish their journey. Sometimes it was natural, sometimes accidental, and sometimes intentional. But there was always a wave of sadness that resounded whenever a soul was snuffed out. 

But guiding the souls of the unborn was only half of her angelic duties. She felt joy turn to grief whenever the ethereal hand she was leading suddenly vanished into nothingness. Every single time, hundreds of thousands of times every single day, ever since the first day humans prayed for their babies to be protected. If she had been human, she may have become numb to such a colossal level of agony after a few centuries. But Lailah remembered every single one.  Thankfully, she did not have to limit herself to just one location. While guiding souls around the spiritual realm within their mothers, she also stayed in her own domain, dwelling on both the joy of each birth and the grief from each of her failures, laughing in one room and crying in another.  But she didn’t have to deal with the grief alone. That was the second half of her duties. 

With every lost soul there was an empty shell, a direct line to the soul of the mother.  Souls lost closer to the end of their journey would often be overflowing with tragic despair, regardless of how the soul was lost. Lailah would visit every single one and mourn with them, assuring them that things really would get better. She was always right, but the gift of a child was not always the answer. 

Now, souls lost shortly after creation were hardly mourned, simply because the mother had no way of knowing about them. But in the last few decades, Lailah had noticed many of these early losses could resonate with maternal grief. This was mostly due to human inventions in the reproductive sciences, giving the infertile a chance to be parents. However, it was always only a chance. 

On this night, Lailah noticed that one such loss was connected to fifteen other souls all trapped in development. All had been manufactured from the same mother and father and then allowed to grow for five days before their path was frozen. Then one had been chosen, given a chance to continue, but it had not. Lailah soon found herself in their bedroom. On the dresser was a clutter of documents and fliers about the procedure. And bills. So many bills. Lailah knelt and stared into the face of the young woman who wanted so badly to be a mother. Her eyes were still open, bloodshot red, full of tears that streamed down her cheeks. In her right hand she clutched a photo of the child that had been implanted into her two weeks before. Below that was a list of genetic results. Male with perfect chromosome count. Should have implanted but failed. She had failed. 

Lailah could sense the woman’s thoughts, and they were all so painful. She remembered the pain of every injection she took to make so many eggs, and then more to prepare her body to receive her child. But every injection, every stab, every needle, it had all been for nothing. She remembered kissing her child’s photo, taken while he was still in a petri dish, and being so happy to one day meet him and hold him in her arms. But that day would never come. Her child would never be, having been absorbed into her, making her body a tomb. She had failed.

Lailah softly flew over to the other side, where the woman’s husband lay, facing away from her. His eyes were closed, but he was not asleep. He could not stop thinking about what his wife had just said, screaming that she hated him. He knew she had every reason too. After all, it was his fault they couldn’t have a kid the normal way. It was his fault they were paying bill after bill after bill. Then when it came to the actual procedure, he had the easy part.  Meanwhile, she had to take so many injections and come in for so many tests, which involved even more injections. And pain. It was his fault she had to go through so much pain that he would never have to endure, and what was there to show of it? Nothing. He had failed. 

But what upset him wasn’t what his wife said, since he knew he deserved it. No, it was what his friends had said in their attempt to comfort him, and it made him dig his fingernails into the mattress. It was just a bunch of cells, they had said. Well, he had planned on playing catch with that ‘bunch of cells’. He had intended on introducing superheroes, Nintendo, and Monty Python to that ‘bunch of cells’. He envisioned teaching that ‘bunch of cells’ how to swim, how to ride a bike, and how to play piano. But now he would never get to do any of that. He would never hi-five his ‘bunch of cells’ after winning a Little League baseball game. He would never listen to his ‘bunch of cells’ yawn himself to sleep after being read a bedtime story. He would never share a smile with his ‘bunch of cells’ after he became the first in the family to earn a graduate degree. He may have lost a bunch of cells, but he had also lost a son. No, that’s wrong.  They both had lost a son. 

Lailah felt their heartbreak. Just like how she had felt the heartbreak of thousands upon thousands like them before. A mortal bind would break over that overabundance of sorrow and despair, but Lailah could handle it all and more. She felt every bit as broken as they did, and she knew the one thing that could heal them. Hope.

Lailah levitated to the ceiling and spread open her bright golden wings, basking the couple in cosmic radiance. With her arms outstretched and her eyes glowing purple, she whispered a soft prayer that she had first proclaimed on behalf of these mortals’ forefathers long ago: 

“Great Creator, You bless those who mourn, for they need Your comfort. You are close to the brokenhearted, and You rescue those whose spirits have been crushed. I lift up these broken souls to You so that You may bind up their wounds. Give them rest, for they are weary and burdened. Be their refuge and their strength.” 

Lailah then slowly flapped her wings, and she lowered herself down in-between the couple. Her head split into two and she whispered into her left ear and his right: “Do not despair. I know how it feels to be so broken, so discouraged, and so tired. But this is not how your story ends. Remember you are not alone. You still have each other. Never forget that, and never lose patience, and never lose hope. You will find the happiness you deserve. I promise you both.” 

Lailah faded away, retreated to her own realm. Neither the woman nor the man had the slightest idea of the divine presence that was just hovering over them, nor did they hear a single word of the prayer she offered to the Creator. But they both had heard the words she had whispered. They were small, faint, weak, and seemed to come from within rather than from without. But they both still heard them, nonetheless. 

The woman opened her eyes and rolled over to look up at the ceiling, wondering if the Creator truly cared enough to listen to her pleas. She slowly placed her hand on her husband’s back, gently warming up that spot of his skin. He quickly rolled over and faced her. No lights were on, and only a faint bit of moonlight shone through the windows, but they could still see into each other. 

They hugged. They cried. They apologized. He led them both in a prayer, confessing their joint sorrow but still accepting their loss. They would continue to trust Him for the gift of children, however that may come about. She said ‘Amen’. They remained locked together until they both finally went to sleep. 

Back in her own domain, Lailah flew up to the remaining souls created from that couple.  There were still fifteen all together, but she knew that most of them would go back to the Creator without ever getting out of their current frozen state. As for the ones that would be given a chance, none of them were guaranteed to complete their journey. She had seen the lights of these souls go out so many times that if there was anyone not having any hope, it had to be her. 

But that is exactly why she could not lose any hope. Once again, she spread out her golden wings and formed a cocoon around herself and the remaining souls. She raised her palms up underneath them, their mortal light warming her heavenly hands. She closed her eyes as her eyelashes burned with purple fire. Tears of ice diamonds ran down each cheek, but she still made a hopeful smile as she beseeched a blessing to each precious soul: 

“I, Lailah, Angel of the Night, 

appointed by the Creator to guard the sparks of life, 

hereby pledge each of you into my care, 

Even though of your fates I am unaware.  

I shall guide you as you grow within the womb, 

even if that same place becomes your tomb.  

If that happens, and you die,

then I may be the only one who cries.  

Yet still I hope you make it all the way 

and see the light on your first birthday.  

Life is short but full of joy, 

Whether you are a girl or a boy.  

Just always know that you are loved, 

both on Earth and up above.” 

Feeling hopeful once again, Lailah resumed her heavenly duties. A year later, she cried again with the couple as they celebrated their firstborn.