I have a guardian angel.
He doesn't like revealing himself, but when he does he is as sweet as can be. He tells me stories. Stories of Heaven and God.
He promises me that one day, when it's my time, he'll take me to see the Creator. I hope that day will come soon, Heaven sounds wonderful.
I've already tried to tell the doctors about him, but all they did was shake their heads, looking sorrowfully down at their papers and whisper to one another quietly when I did.
They don't believe me, but that's okay. My guardian angel said that they don't understand and that they never will.
He visits more and more now, standing besides my hospital bed and watching over me as I sleep.
The doctor's faces have recently begun to look at me more sympathetically, snip-its of their conversation reaching my small ears. "...Gotten worse.." "Not going to make it...
" I don't try to understand what these words mean. I'm too excited. Just last night, my guardian angel told me that he's going to introduce me to the Creator, finally.
I'm ecstatic now; my tiny, broken body practically shivering in excitement underneath the numerous casts that cover me due to the recent car crash.
I hope God likes me.