Everywhere I go I see angels. I know a statement like that could make you think I'm crazy, but they're out there. They're watching us, waiting for something to happen so they can intervene. Not that they want to, they're just doing their job. I think if they had their choice about things, they'd probably just let us kill each other. After all, when you are of the highest host and he sets you aside for a mortal creation, and then charges you to serve that creation, wouldn't you be a little upset?
      I've seen the upset ones at work. In hospitals, on the TV reports from the war zones, and in the very streets of America. They come to take you away when you die. Of course, as long as you're going to heaven that isn't a bad thing, but there is nothing worse than watching an angel hand over the soul of someone to the wraiths of hell. Not a pretty sight at all.
     The good angels are harder to spot. They disguise themselves well. They look just lik e you or me, but you can still spot them if you look closely enough. Most of them have halos. Not the halos we see depicted in religious art or popular imagination. It's not like there's a little circle of gold over their heads or anything. No, the angel's halo is really a part of them, and extension of their being. It's more like a glow on a face. Serene, peaceful, almost like a light shining from within trying to escape the flesh. Or maybe it's best described as something like the flush you see across young lovers faces after making love. That's as close as most of us will get to heaven anyway.
     Another giveaway for the angels is of course those wings. Most people can't see the wings, but they are there. I've only met one other flesh and blood person who could see them, and sadly he's now locked up in a hospital somewhere. They said he was a manic-depressive with delusional paranoia, whatever the hell that's supposed to mean.
      I myself have only seen the angel wings a few times. I think they must have us under a cloak of not seeing them as they are, but every now and then the cloak is lifted and Pow! I can see everything as it really is. Angels, and their twist of Cain, the demons, are all around us, while we humans are completely oblivious to it all.
      We think this is our world, but it's not. It's theirs. We're just visiting...

      I have always seen the angels though. Ever since I can remember. I don't know why, and that always poses big questions when I think about it. For instance, why, out of all the millions of people am I the only one who can see them? I'm certain there are others like me out there somewhere, besides the one that was locked away, but I've never met them. If the angels have always been in my life, doesn't it stand to reason they've been in other people's lives, too?
      They are so much a part of my life that my earliest memory is of an angel. I assume it's something that happened in my childhood, though I can't really see myself in the memory to determine how old I was or what I even looked like. But anyway, it seemed to be a plane crash or something to do with falling from a great height. I could hear screams around me and the sound of rending flesh. I could smell burning, and heard the great rush of a thousand wings, or most likely I tell myself, a jet engine.
     I was on my back and in extreme pain. I could feel the blood beneath me spilling out on the ground. Feathers were floating around everywhere as if two trucks full of poultry had collided head-on. My vision was hazy and everything was blurring fast. I was losing consciousness, maybe dying, I don't know.
     The last sight I remember was her beautiful face. She was lovely, a perfect creation, and undoubtedly an angel. Pale and light, hair the color of wheat and clouds. Her face glowed, and I could see her wings as they lightly flapped on her back. I tried to speak between the pain, but she hushed me with her lips on my forehead. And then I was in a hospital bed. Alone. No angels, just me alive. End of memory.

      That was a long time ago. I don't know how long, but the memory seems to be distant, almost to the point of forgetting. But her face always comes back to me, reminding me of that event, though I'm unsure exactly what the event really was. Such are traumatic experiences they say.
     As you may guess, that memory was not the last time I saw her. I see her all the time actually. Though she's learned how to hide her wings from mortal eyes, I can still tell it's her by the angel's glow, the halo of which I spoke earlier. Sometimes I see her out of the corner of my eye, on the subway, or in the supermarket. Always in public and always in a crowd. I've tried to approach her on occasion but she disappears among the populace as if she were dissipating smoke. Lingering long enough to tantalize me with her beauty and the desire to be near her, she is like a dream that I can never grasp because I'm always waking up too soon.
      I can't help but think she's my guardian angel. Sent here to watch over me, beginning back when I was a child or whenever that traumatic memory comes from. And I wonder if we all have these guardian angels, for if we do why can't I see them protecting everyone? I mean If I'm able to see angels, shouldn't I be able to see all of them? Shouldn't we be surrounded by them if everyone has a guardian angel? Maybe there's just a select few who have these heavenly protectors. But then I have to ask myself another question. What qualifications or qualities does someone have to have in order to be watched over by the angels? Do we have to have some greater destiny that requires our safety? There has to be some reason that some of us are protected and administered to in such a manner.
     That's why I've tried to approach the one who serves as my guardian. I want her to tell me what's going on. I want to know the truth. And if the truth can't be told to a mortal, then to heck with it, I'm ready to die and go to heaven. There's no point in all this mystery, and no purpose in living, unless I know what it is I'm living for or why I am here. She has these answers, I know she does. I just have to find a way to get her to tell me.
     Maybe it would be different if I had more memories besides the one that keeps haunting me. I've tried to grasp other memories from the air, but everything is vague.
      For instance, when I see the angel there in the crowds I ask myself, why do I perceive her as so lovely? Does she remind me of someone? An ex-girlfriend, maybe? But I can't remember any ex-girlfriends. Not a single one. I don't remember any romantic moments that lovers might share, I don't even have remembrances of young love from my childhood. While most would remember taking their girl to the prom or to a football game, I can't recall one single girl I liked, as if my memory of that had been erased or never occurred at all.
     So then I try to think of family. Everyone has these vivid memories, good or bad, but mine are cloudy, obscured. I know I have brothers and sisters. I know I come from a large family. But I try to picture faces and I just can't do it. I have this feeling that all my siblings look similar, as if we all took after the same parent. But I can't tell you anything other than that about us children.
      I try to remember my mom, but I can't recall anything about her. Not one single shred of memory. Almost as if I were the product of a virgin birth. I know that's not possible, because I can remember my father a little. I seem to recall he appeared larger than life to me, as most fathers do to small children. I remember he had a commanding presence, a certain way he carried himself that demanded respect. Maybe he was a military officer or something, I don't know. That's all I can remember.

      I almost caught up to the angel yesterday. I was coming off the subway and there she was, right in front of me. She was smiling and I nearly fell in love with her right there. Her "halo" seemed to glow brighter momentarily and then I surged forward to greet her. That's when I heard a scream.
     I spun around. Some guy had stabbed this other guy behind me. There was a look of surprise on both their faces: one shocked that he'd been stabbed, the other in shock as if he'd stabbed the wrong person. Suddenly something clicked. If I hadn't surged forward just then, I might have been the unfortunate victim.
     I looked for the angel, but she was gone. And I ran. I had to get out of that place and up into the daylight. Coming out of the terminal and into the sunlight felt good. I just stood there enjoying the heat on my face. My guardian angel had saved me...

      Today was the day, I want you to know. I finally caught up with her, and she showed me the truth that has eluded me for so long. So it was with great irony where I finally met her: in a church.
     I had gone in to light a candle, more for myself that anyone, and had settled into a pew to pray. I had this distinct feeling I was being watched, so I cautiously raised my head and looked around. There she was about seven rows behind me.
     Her glow was more subdued. Her smile more serene than I'd ever seen before. I got up and so did she. I started to walk towards her, but just when I thought she might do the same, she turned and walked away instead. I stopped for a moment, puzzled. But she was heading outside and I had no choice but to go after her.
     "Hey wait a minute," I called out, just as soon as I made it out of the sanctity of the church. She was on the sidewalk still walking away, but casting a backwards glance in my direction. Not really flirting, but still inviting me to follow.
     "Wait up," I pleaded, but she didn't wait. I picked up my pace trying to catch up to her, but the closer I got the faster she seemed to walk. At one point she almost seemed to be gliding on air away from me. Finally she headed into the street.
     "Will you wait a minute," I yelled. "I just want to ask you something!"
     I followed her into the street. She was almost across when she stopped and turned to me. Her smile then was one of both love and regret. I halted momentarily, thankful she'd finally stopped and given me a chance to catch up. I moved forward and reached out to touch to her.
      That's when I heard the sound of traffic, tires moving on pavement, engines accelerating as if to beat the next light. And I realized my mistake. I turned towards the sound just as the city bus hit me head on, seemingly oblivious to my presence.
     I felt the impact and then everything went black. I heard screams, I could smell burning, hear the rending of flesh as it was in my other memory where the loose feathers had floated around me. I was in pain, but the pain was quickly subsiding. And the darkness around me was segueing into light.
      I was on my back in the street. The bus was gone. Traffic moved around me. And no one stood hovering over me as they would if a bus on a busy thoroughfare had struck someone down. But suddenly, there she was, looking down at me. My angel.
      "I can't move," I stammered.
      She smiled as if to say, "yes you can."
      I tried to move my arms and found that I could, but there was something else. Something beneath me, cushioning me. I turned my head to the side to try and peer on the concrete where I lay.
     Feathers. I was lying on feathers. No, wait, it wasn't feathers. It was wings.
      I looked back up at the angel, and she touched my cheek with her soft loving hand. Suddenly I remembered. My childhood memory wasn't a plane crash. It wasn't even a childhood memory. It was the remembrance of something else. The act of being cast from heaven. The feeling of falling had been my banishment from His presence. The presence of the Father. My brothers and sisters had fell with me. The smell of burning had been those who fell more painfully in their contempt and hatred. The rending of flesh were wings being stripped and torn from those who tried to fly higher than the Creator. And the feathers floating about me had been my own wings, forever damaged, never to carry me home again.
      My sister angel nodded her head, because now I knew and understood. I heard her light voice in my head, "Come on let's go. There's work to do".
     I got up and followed her, leaving my broken wings behind in the street. No one paid attention to us. Cars went by same as always. The city streets milled with people all going their separate ways. And life went on, oblivious to the truth. This was hell...

~Fini~

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