The "Guardian" Angel

The fluffy, white snowflakes fell from the early morning sky. They piled on top of each other, creating a white blanket covering the shiny blue car. A snowplow drove by, clearing the roads, piling rocks and snow, making Oreo snowbanks. Tiny crystals fell from the truck, melting the slippery roads. The snow-covered car started, as a man dressed in a black suit pushed the button from inside his house. He opened the door and stepped outside. His breath condensed in the cold winter air. He brushed the snow off the car and got in. He turned up the heat, and the cold windows turned foggy, as the air inside the car turned warm, fighting against the cold air outside.

The car started moving, backing out of the driveway. As the car was making its way down the road, the man saw kids rolling snowballs, making snowmen. He groaned, as he saw their happy faces. Christmas was just around the corner, and he was a bit of a scrooge. He continued driving, as he lit a cigarette. He was driving on a long, empty road. The windshield wiper started swishing back and forth, blurring his vision. The snow fell faster, and he grasped his cigarette between his teeth, as he grabbed the steering wheel with both hands, gaining more control of the car. It approached a slippery patch, and slid slightly to the other side of the road. The man swore, dropping the cigarette out of his mouth. The Cigarette smoked, slowly burning a hole through the carpet. The man carefully bent down to pick it up, keeping one eye on the road. He looked away for only a second, but that was enough to for him to lose his focus. He continued attempting to pick up the burning cigarette, as he turned the wheel with each direction he moved. The car fishtailed all over the road, and soon hit a patch of black ice. The tire slipped, and the car spun out of control. The man tried desperately to take control of the car again, but the tires were no match for the slippery roads. The car slammed into the guard rail, breaking it in half, and continued going, even though the man had his foot planted hard on the brake. The car rolled down the hill, as the windshield smashed. The car rolled down the hill faster, glass flying everywhere. A piece of glass hit the mans face, piercing his skin. At that moment, the man realized there was no stopping the car. He realized he was about to die. He closed his eyes, and braced himself for what was about to happen.

The car hit the bottom of the hill, crashing into a tree. The engine smoked, as it was burning. The snow underneath the car melted slightly, but the snow around it remained cold. The car was leaking, as drops of oil and gasoline fell onto the cold icy snow, and slightly froze.

From the top of the hill, the scene looked beautiful. The air grew dark as it was polluted with smoke and gasses. The land was lined with trees, all covered with a blanket of snow. At the tip of each branch were tiny icicles, each about half an inch long. One tree, almost in the middle of the others, was more bare. It had snow shaken off of it when the car had come tumbling down, wrapping around its trunk. Nobody else was around, but this was the view someone was seeing. A women dressed in a white gown, with dark, wavy hair stood at the top of the hill, looking down on the accident. She watched as the man regained consciousness.

He sat up, wincing in pain. His face was cut and bleeding, and his whole body was aching. The man was in great pain, and he knew he was on his last life. He sat there, waiting for his heart to finally stop. There was nobody else driving on the road for the last ten miles, so he knew no one would be around to help him. He did not own a cell phone, so he could not call for help. He would walk to the nearest house, but he was in too much pain, and he knew he would not make it. So he sat there in his car, blood dripping down his face, body aching, waiting for his death. He waited patiently, though he did not want to die. He had no friends, his parents died when he was a teenager, his wife left him for a NASCAR racer after she had a miscarriage. He strongly hated himself, always wished he was someone else. He felt that his life was useless, that he was just a negative force, taking up space in what could be a beautiful world if he was not a part of it. He felt he was no use in anyone’s life. He felt like there was no point. But as much as he hated life, he did not want to die. He still had a little piece of hope left inside of his soul, keeping him there, making sure he did not give up. He felt deep down inside of him, that things were going to get better eventually, that he was actually going to mean something in someone's life, and most importantly in his own life.

He sat there in the car, waiting for his death, though deep inside his mind he was begging for forgiveness. A voice inside his head was screaming out for someone, anyone, to save him. He was not ready to die. He was ready to prove everyone wrong, and get his life back on the right track. He pleaded, though he knew no one would ever hear his silent call. But back at the top of the hill, someone heard the little voice in his mind. The woman in white slowly made her way down to the wreckage, but she still required one more thing in order to grant this man with the miracle he wanted so desperately.

“I'm not ready to die!” The man cried aloud. He confessed to whoever was listening and to himself, that even though his life was pointless, he still wanted to live. He wanted to try harder, and make his life worth it.

For the woman in white, that was enough. She made her way down to help the man. She glided across the snow, leaving no footprints at all.

The man looked up at the sky, tears pouring down his face, mixing with the blood left from the cuts. He saw something in the distance. He focused harder, though he could not see clearly, due to the smoky air. He saw a figure walking towards him, and it became more apparent of what it was when it got closer. He saw a woman dressed in a white gown smiling at him. Confused, he called out to her. She did not answer, but only kept smiling. She finally reached the car. She looked down at the man, and put her hand on his shoulder. With her touch, the mans body ached less. The deep cuts on his face slowly started to mend. The woman smiled down at him, and said, “you do not deserve to die. You deserve the chance to make things right again.” With that she turned away, leaving the man to heal.

The man stood up, feeling much better. He felt full of life again. He walked away, ready to start over. But little did he know, the woman in white, who seemed like his guardian angel, was nothing like an angel. She was more evil than any being on earth, or in any other world. And instead of saving the man from his death, she only just made his life a living hell. She was sure that what she had done was worse than the mans life had ever been. His life would now be worse than death. Instead of begging for his life, he'll be begging for his death. The only catch, he can no longer die. There is no way out.