“So are you a religious man Stephen?” Carson quizzed.
“I never considered myself to be one. I used to go to church with my wife from time to time. I never really believed all of it the same way she did.”
“So, you’re still married?”
The sweet aroma of flowers and almond with a hint of cinnamon was now overpowering to Stephen. Little flashes of blue flickered in the blackness of his sight. They blended into a solid spot of pure white at the dead center of the darkness. Then, as if looking through a tube, in an instant, the distinct shape of a robed radiant being near a couple of stagehands by a camera setup came into startling focus to Stephen. He jumped up and then backed into his chair, causing it to flip backward. Deep uneasiness volcanoed within the cameraman, his stomach going queasy, and the hair on his arms stood up as if charged static electricity filled the air. The weighted feeling of someone standing directly behind him melded with a feeling of dread and fear causing him to wildly swing his camera around. No one was there.
“Camera 3, back on set now,” a voice commanded in the cameraman's headset.
Carson observed the director signaling a station break. Carson then moved over and attempted to grab Stephen to keep him from falling backwards. “We'll be right back ladies and gentlemen, right after this short break.”
“We're out for three minutes,” the director called out.
“Thank God!” Carson yelled out frustrated. “What the hell’s going on? Why in the hell did you jump like that?” he asked Stephen, who was looking back over the fallen chair in the direction of the cameras while a couple of stagehands ran onto the set to help him.
“Don't you see the... it? Standing by camera,” Stephen answered in the direction of cameraman 3.
“What are you talking about?” Carson remarked. “I thought you were blind.”
“The light from it is illuminating everything around it! Don't you see it?”
Carson, the stagehands, and the crewmembers hastily scanned the set. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary.
“Trish, thanks for that soft break,” Carson commented to the director who was coming onto the set and assuming his guest had gone nutty.
“I wasn't calling a break because of what happened out here. The control room wanted to break in on the broadcast.”
“Why? What the hell is going on?”
“Carson,” a voice reverberated over the public address system. “When we come back, we're going to broadcast live audio from Rhonda on remote. When the remote camera is set up, then we're going to switch to video.”
“Rhonda? I thought she was taking a long breakfast break for her grandmother's funeral?”
“That's where she is,” Trish answered.
Damn, she’s coldhearted, Carson thought. She didn’t even take the entire Sunday off to go to her grandmother’s funeral and wake. Now she’s ready to pop right to work.
The crew stood up Stephen's overturned chair and adjusted the table between his chair and the host. Then they attempted to guide him back into his seat but he refused to move.
“What’s so interesting that you have to cut into my interview?” Carson, a little perturbed, asked Trish.
“An angel,” Stephen interjected. The set became quiet after his response.
“She's saying there's an angel there now and it looks like we got the chance to film it,” Trish responded unhurriedly, a little shocked at Stephen's response. “Get ready to go to air.”
“One minute to live audio feed,” the voice boomed over the speakers. Silence continued to rest over the set. Stephen remained standing, facing the direction of the cameras. Only with excessive coaxing did he return to his seat. The angel stood fast. It was apparent to Carson and a stagehand that Stephen was flush and staring blankly into the distance. Carson began to confirm his doubt about Stephen claiming to be blind.
“Carson, when we go back live, we're going to zoom straight to you and patch the feed directly to Rhonda,” Trish directed.
Carson straightened his red, diagonal-patterned tie, gathered his note cards, and focused his attention toward the camera. “Keep it together,” he said, directing his comments to Stephen.