Grouchy Guardians

How many near-death experiences do you think happen daily – 100,000? A million? Before I died, I never thought it occurred as much. But I see them happen every day now. For example, within my short commute on the subway, I could watch dozens of people almost die.

The middle-aged, man shaking peanuts aggressively in his fist before tossing them into his mouth, begins a low rumbly cough. No one else riding thinks anything of it, and I don’t either until I see an angel drop down into the subway car and slap him against the back of his neck – forcing the peanut forward. The angel rolls her eyes and soars back through the top of the car.

A few seats down, I heard a woman’s heavy Italian accent scream out, “Oh jeez, again Frank? Breathe!” An older ghost smacks a sleeping man across the face, forcing him to take a deep gasp of air. As we pull into the station, countless tourists – who are standing too close to the tracks – are being flanked and forced towards safety by disgruntled winged creatures. Walking up the stairs towards the city, an elderly woman stays close to the wall being guided by who could be her late husband – at least he didn’t seem to mind his job. All of these close calls and I am the only one who can see it all happening.

Within a few blocks, there’s the normal handful of spirits yanking their loved ones back onto curbs to avoid collisions. Guardians are walking their humans around manholes that they are too distracted by their phones to see. Doting grandparents are removing small toys from their grandbabies’ mouths, for fear of them choking to death while their parents look the other way. There are so many angels protecting the lives of the people that they love, sometimes they look ordinary – but most times they are angry.

Being able to see them is eerie enough, but realizing that all of them are so disgruntled was initially peculiar. If I could watch over my living loved ones and protect them from danger, I would do it willingly – or so I thought. But being in my own near-death experience taught me that people die every day due to the trivial of things. Apparently, my guardian was on a lunch break during my almost-demise, so I brought myself back. My cause of death would’ve been mixing too many products in the tub when I was cleaning the bathroom. The chemicals mixed and created a lethal tincture that knocked me out. Upon coming back to life, I didn’t feel differently, and I wouldn’t have imagined that anything happened.

It wasn’t until a few days later, when I was at the pool, that I realized something was off. While a crowd of terrified onlookers screamed for help because of a little girl drowning, I watched in confusion as a very pale man kept her head above water and helped lead her to the pool’s wall. Everyone ran over to console the girl, but no one thanked the man, who ended up floating on his back over to the other side of the pool – away from the mania as if no one could see him.

I can’t explain how this happens to me. I’ve never tried to ask, who was I to question? All I could do was wait and watch. Once I started paying attention, I noticed these same ashy creatures were everywhere. Each time they were saving someone and each time they expressed frustrations – not directly to me, of course, just outwardly. I still don’t think they know that I can see them.

I no longer pay the angels or their forced labor any attention these days. I grew tired of secretly panicking because I could see potential deaths that no one else could. The only thing that I still wonder about is my guardian angel. Other than the tub incident, I must’ve gotten myself into another near-death accident. Maybe I couldn’t see my own angel – I don’t know how the rules work. I try not to focus too much on death – despite its constant existence in my life.

I walk into the gas station on the corner with the last $5 to my name until payday to buy a taquito to hold me over for the day. As I walk up to the warmed rolling machine, a single hotdog rolled slowly. I make a face but still consider the purchase. I could walk to another store, but I was hungry! As I’m pondering, a young man appears over my shoulder – he must’ve walked up from the back of the station.

“Ay bruh, I wouldn’t eat that,” he offers nonchalantly.

“Yeah? Good lookin out,” I chuckle, noting how pensive I must seem while staring at a hotdog. “Just tryna get something real qui-” I turn to continue small talk, but the guy is gone.

I shrug and settle for a few bags of chips instead of the ominous wiener. “Hey, that guy who was in here a minute ago, did you see which way he went?” I ask the cashier, handing over the $5 bill.

“What guy?” He looks at me strangely. “You’ve been the only person here for like 5 minutes… staring at that hotdog.”

After registering the seriousness on his face, I smile to myself – I can’t even remember that kid’s face. I guess I have a guardian angel after all.