Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-26522811-20150920000909

Greetings, Michael. I have been with you for what has to be centuries by now. I’m not going to beat around the bush, I am your guardian angel. Archangels like me help humans like you by stopping you from getting hurt, physically and emotionally. I bet you’re whining, “Oh, but why didn’t you stop me from biting my cheek or falling when I was young?” The answer is that I’ve just given up. I’ve attempted to give you a perfect life for centuries. This may confuse you, so let me explain.

On your first life, at age five, the higher ups in heaven granted you a guardian angel. The first time I guarded you was easy, you got burned, fell a few times, nothing horrible. But then your first death occurred. When you drowned in that community pool by your old parent’s house I took your place. I experienced, for the first time, what death was. I was scared, in horrible pain as my chest felt like it was collapsing in on itself. But then, just as it began, it ended. I opened my eyes when the pain ceased and found myself in your home, hearing you cry in happiness during your fifth birthday. After that experience I took great precautions to make sure you don’t die again, but you’re just so easily killed.

At 103 deaths, I stopped trying to shield you from emotional pain. At 403 deaths I stopped shielding you from minor harm. At the time of writing this, you’ve died 873 times, all in different timelines, most of which your fault for not noticing my warnings. These deaths have taken a toll on me, and I’ve stopped trying to make your life easy. I only write this because one instance has been a thorn in my side, and a major cause of your deaths.

On June 21, 2022 you will exit a bar after a whole night of debauchery and go driving while drunk. You will hit a semi truck at full speed a total of 1.2 miles away from the bar. I take your place in the crash, and have to feel every last piece of glass entering my skin and every single bone in your body being broken. Meanwhile, I am serenaded by the lamentations of my brother and sister angels as the passengers in your car leave their bodies and are replaced by my kind. For your and my sake, don’t go out drinking on that day.

I have to get you to at least 80, and you’re making it difficult for me to get you past 30. I’m placing this note outside of your parents’ home, right under the stump of a growing tree. When you’re 19, 3 years before the accident and 4 years after writing this, you will be asked to remove this stump by your parents. I cannot directly help you, so I pray you find and read this message. I wish I had this idea sooner, writing this message, I mean. This will mark the 12th time I’ve written this note, and, if I’m lucky, the 3rd time you’ve found it and the 1st time you’ve cared about what I have to say. Do this for yourself and for me, don’t go driving on June 21, 2022. Oh, and one last thing. Before you’re done digging out the stump, go in your parents’ home and turn off their oven. You’ve been good about this before, but I’d rather not make this the 73rd Oven-related fiasco.

Your Archangel,

Alexander. 