My gaurdian angel has no wings; he is a bit broken, a bit bent. He drinks too much, and he smells a tad foul. He makes a lot of unnecessary noise, and looks for his reflection in spaces where he thinks mirrors should be.
I have asked him many times to leave but he just kinda chuckles and says I'm stuck with him. Some kind of cosmic karmic nonsense. He
laughs like a maniac. I love his smile.
He took the form of a Spider today. He crawled out of the shadows for a jumpscare, then scuttled back to a corner. This gave him great pleasure, and I live to serve.
I confess, he has grown on me, like some kind of moss on an old concrete building. He guides me down the strangest, darkest paths. In fear, I offer gratitude.
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