My Angel

He has been called many things, reaper, angel, guardian, guide, but I knew him as a friend. 

    The day I met him it was cold, snow was piled high along the roads and sidewalks. I was sitting in the park, abandoned at such a late hour, my back pressed up against a bench my hands clutching the stab wound in my stomach. I glanced down at the large pool of blood seeping into the snowy slush under me. My breath came out in short burst the cured up and away from me. My head was getting light my eyes, drifting closed. I had given up trying to move I couldn't and even if I tried to yell, no one was around to hear me. Through my bleary vision I saw a man coming up the sidewalk, he had a long black trench coat, buttoned against the cold, a thick felt hat pulled down low obscuring his face. At first, I thought it was the man that attacked me coming to finish the job. I tried to shuffle away but I couldn't move. The stranger knelt down next to me pushing his hat up so I could see his face, it was beautiful; his whole face looked like it had been carved from marble, like a statue in a church. Looking into his eyes was like looking at a kaleidoscope, the colors swirled and danced outlined in fire. 

"Easy," he whispered. His voice was soft, like a summer breeze, the dim streetlight illuminated his head making it look like he had a halo.

"Are you an angel?"  I asked faintly. He smiled warmly.

"To some," he replied. Moving my blood soaked hands to look at my wound.

 "Can you heal it-like-like in the movies?" I asked shuttering.

 "No,'" he replied placing my hands back over the wound. My heart sunk even further into my chest. It was getting harder to breathe, harder to think, but the world seemed to have slowed down. My blood came out slower even the wind seemed to be a whisper compared to its earlier bite. 

  "If you can't heal me why are you here?" I asked. The man looked up at me and suddenly he looked very old.

  "I am here to make sure you don't die alone and to help you get where you're going," he said softly. Suddenly tears started falling from my eyes and fear shot through my veins.

 "I'm going to die?" I stuttered. The man simply nodded. I didn't want to die, I wasn't ready I,  suddenly I was overcome with so many emotions tears flooded my face in time with the blood still seeping from my wound. The man gently took a cloth from his pocket and gingerly whipped the tears from my eyes.

"No one wants to die there will always be things left undone. Dreams unfulfilled, passions not pursued, choices not yet made, but that is the tragedy that comes with the gift of life you will never be truly done living," His words calmed me. 

 "How much longer do I have?" I asked.

 "Not much longer," the man replied. It had started to snow at some point, I turned my head to watch the little snowflakes fell towards the ground in slow circles dancing in the air. 

  "They're beautiful aren't they?" The man asked. I turned back to him his lashes were dotted with snowflakes, slowly melting, down his face. I nodded softly. 

 "I think I'm ready to go," I whispered. Having seen the snow one last time. The man smiled at me, his face so full of love.

"Take my hand," I did as I was told placing my cold, bloody hand in his warm one. Suddenly time froze. The snow stopped, I was sitting in a field of green grass; the air smelled like warm earth and wildflowers. The slushy snow became the gently lapping of waves against the shoreline, the moon turned into the late afternoon sun, and the harsh winter wind that had frozen me was now a soft summer brreze. 

 "Where am I?" 

 "Home"