When I was young my mother told me fairy tales. She would tell me about all the creatures: mermaids, pixies, vampires, giants, and other such creatures. I would listen to her with my covers pulled up to my chin and my eyes would be abuzz with interest. It was hard to make a five-year-old listen, too. But I would listen, and no stories interested me more than the stories about angels.
Beautiful being with white wings soaring above me and protecting me like a guardian. I was enthralled from the beginning by the thought that creatures like that exist. When mother told me that each little child had a guardian angel I nearly leaped from my bed in amazement. I prayed to my guardian angel every night, and whenever I was scared I thought about how my angel was looking after me.
So now, as I lay here in the street after nearly being hit by a car, I can’t help but thank the angel of my prayers.
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