I refer to it as my Keeper. It becomes rather offended when I call it my guardian angel. It’s not exactly an angel. In all honesty, I think it’s a demon. But it doesn’t hurt me. It doesn’t crave my soul. It’s just…there, watching over me and caring for me. It never speaks, never tells me its name or even if it’s a boy or girl. I suppose that’s trivial to a being as such. It’s nothing but a shadow, really. A vapory form I sometimes see. It mostly stays invisible. But it helps me. When it’s dark, and I can’t find the lights, it makes noises so I know where to go. It moves objects out my way, reaches items that are too high for me to reach. When I have the hiccups, it jump scares me. Works every time. It also leaves me reminders on my bathroom mirror. Yesterday, the mirror had “Meeting: 9am” written on it. The first time a message happened, I thought the red gunk dripping down the glass was blood. I found out the hard way it was ketchup. I hate ketchup. It cooks for me, too. I’ll come home from work, and a candlelight dinner will be ready on the table. I wonder if it has a crush on me. Or if it’s the remains of my soulmate that perished before I met him. Although, I swear it’s half cat. When it gets bored, it flicks the lights off and on. Or it will knock something off the shelf, catch it, replace it, then knock it off again. I live alone, but I have it protecting me. Even follows me around in public. My friends brag about their guardian angels. I’m afraid to tell them about my guardian demon. Sometimes, when they make me feel insecure, it makes them look like fools. It definitely knows how to make me laugh. All in all, it’s strange. I often question the morality of it. But then it will catch the lamp I knock over and save it from falling on me or make me trip on the sidewalk so I don’t walk out in front of a speeding car. It keeps me safe. Keeps me happy, encouraged. Keeps me company. Keeps me alive. I wonder if it’s the manifestation of the part of me that died. It first appeared after I tried to take my own life but failed. I think it kept me from killing myself. That’s why I call it my Keeper.
January 5, 2016
This entry was posted on Tuesday, January 5th, 2016 at 12:56 am and tagged with Angel, Death, Demon, Guardian, Keeper, Life, Morality, Shadow and posted in Short Stories. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.
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