My Angel (COMPLETE)

Prologue

Italics- thoughts/ flashbacks/ dreams
Bold- author talking
Underline- narrator talking/main character
Normal- normal story

ꨄ❦ꨄ❦ꨄ➪

ఌ Pain and sadness shows that you are alive, happiness and joy show that you are living
                Sometimes being alive is enough ఌ

So this is the story of how I lived to see the Angel of Death's face and didn't die on the spot.

Now now, you might ask, well how the fuck did you do that? Or, how did a ruthless soul sucking monster let me keep living?

Well that's why y'all will read the story. And looks are deceiving.

Now let's get to the topic of the crazy man that this story is about, even though it is my story.

He wasn't always crazy, no no no.  He was never crazy, only lonely.

And made weird jokes all the time, they were so outta pocket.

And he loves nature and animals and is super nice.

I'm nice too, that's what he told me.

I'm getting distracted.

Let's talk about how we met. The Christian  girl that babysat the babies at church and was scared shitless to get in trouble, also terrified of people because they are evil. And a man treated horribly and thought to be evil by a chunk of people.

Still sad when I think about his past, he also told me he gets sad when he thinks about my past.

Some times we sit up late at night, on top of a hill and trauma bond. He is so pretty in the moonlight and the shadowed grass contracting from his vines is so nice.

He reminds me of poetic people from long ago sometimes. He is very poetic but is so scared to show anything like some people I guess. I dunno but it's very sweet.

Ok back on focusing once again because I'm a distracted bufoon.

I saw him when I almost died at nineteen. Also at two but I don't remember that shit, I can't remember what I did 2 hours ago before starting this story.

I became obsessed with the cloaked man and his gold and silver scythe. Well he prefers to call it a siðe. Yes that's how old he is, not moving on to new English sometimes.

I would draw many, many pictures of him for the short minutes I saw him. I would draw what I think he looked like and did tons of research. I even studied thanatology for an unknown reason.

I was completely obsessed for 3 whole years. Yes that's right, I had nothing better to do than stalk a supernatural being for most of my stay at collage.

Now I've been talking for quite a while and didn't even tell you my name or how old I currently am or any of the good stuff.

My name is Irina and I'm now 28. This happened when I was 22.

Wanna know what happened when we first met?

If I told you, you wouldn't wanna read the story and figure out, we couldn't have that now could we?

Y'all get ready cuz…

it's getting hot in here, so take off your clothes🎶

Or however the fuck it goes, my memory sucks.

Ight hurry up I wanna write.

Ok well bye my lovely audience. Wait-

*Shuts door* sorry, she talked more than I wanted her to.

*Irina tries to open the door again but the author throws all her weight against it and nervously sweats.*

Heh

See y'all on the other side of the fourth wall where the story repeatedly plays.

I might even do a chapter like this for the grim reaper himself at 1k views 😏