Guardian Angel - Prologue

                                                                                                  Guardian Angel

                                                                                                       Prologue

“…And from the sky, he descended, like a leaf from a tree; graceful, and full of peace.  He spoke then, ‘Fear me not, for I am your faithful servant; your protective shield; your Guardian Angel.’…”  He put the book down, kissed the boy on the forehead, and said, “Now go to sleep, that’s the third time I’ve read it to you today.”

The boy nodded, and replied, “Yes Grandpa…” He rose, and left the room, closing the door behind him.  The boy closed his eyes, and drifted into the void of dreams.

                                                                                                             ***

Fletcher rose in his bed and looked over at his clock. 9:36. He moaned and pushed himself off the mattress, grabbing his shirt and putting it on. As he walked down-stairs, he heard his mother’s voice, saying, “Finally you woke up. I can’t believe you’re twenty. It seems like yesterday that I was holding you in my arms, singing you to sleep.” He walked over and hugged her. “Happy birthday, Fletcher.”

He walked into the kitchen and saw his grandfather and his sister, Maple, who was seventeen, and looked up to Fletcher. “Hi Grandpa.”

He smiled and said, “I’ve been waiting for you to wake up for almost an hour.” Fletcher chuckled.

“You should have just yelled at me to wake up.”

His mother replied, “We tried to, but you just said ‘Ten more minutes…’ so every ten minutes, we tried again.” He chuckled again.

“So what’s the plan for today?” His mother motioned with her hand, toward the living room.

He walked in and saw six boxes, wrapped and displayed in an orderly fashion. “Are we starting with these?” She nodded and handed him the first box, which was small and square, about the size of his fist.

He slowly peeled off the tape holding the wrapping paper together, and Maple exclaimed, “Just rip it all off!” He laughed, and did just that. He opened the box inside, and found a silver eagle pin. His face lit up with joy, as he lifted the pin out of the box.

“Your father’s pin. It’s yours now.”  He smiled, and thanked her. She handed him the next box, which was flatter and more rectangular. He peeled off the wrapping paper, and opened the box, to find some clothes. He thanked his sister for the gift, knowing it was from her, by the mark on the bottom of the box. She nodded and gave him the next one. He took it and unwrapped it, and opened the box, only to find another wrapped box, slightly smaller. He repeated the process, and found yet another box. Doing the same once more, he opened the next box, and found a note on the bottom of the box, saying:

You’re welcome for the air,

Maple

Laughing he threw the box at Maple, which she threw back, also laughing.  The next box was just filled with a variety of small, colorful and sugar-filled candies. His mother gave him another box, which he opened to find some books. They appeared to be new. Their spines weren’t yet decomposed from age. The pages were crisp and white. His grandfather gave him the very last box in the pile. As he peeled the paper aside, he saw the title of a book. ‘Guardian Angel’ He smiled saying, “I haven’t read this in twelve years.”

His grandfather chuckled, and said, “You’ve never read that book. I always read it to you.”

Later that day, Fletcher was on his way to a friend’s house. Along the way, there was a convenience store. As he was passing by, he noticed a masked man in the store, pointing a gun at the cashier. The young and helpless cashier’s face was one stricken with fear and panic.  Fletcher panicked for a second, not sure what to do.  Hesitantly, he took out his cell phone, and with vigorously shaking hands, he tried dialing 911. His first attempt failed; the result being a jumble of numbers. His second attempt was a little more successful, and he managed to dial it right. Just as he put the phone up to his ear, the masked man turned and saw him. Eyes glaring, the man pointed the gun at Fletcher.

He ran to the side, and into an alley, his face mirroring the cashier’s. In the alley, dumpsters and trash cans, lined the walls, garbage all over the walls and ground. Coughing, he ran down the alley, panting heavily. He turned his head, and looked back, sweat beading down his face. His dread worsened when he saw the man walking down the alley, snarling and swinging his arms, and constantly re-gripping his gun. He yelled something, but it was muffled by the sweat covering Fletcher’s ears, and his heavy breathing. As he turned back to the direction he was running in, he faced something that he thought for sure would be the thing that really killed him; a wall. A twenty-foot brick wall. He turned around and stared at the man.

Trembling, he said, “Please...I was just passing by...”