When An Angel Needs Knuckledusters
As an experienced foster parent, Cathy has dealt with all sorts. But having a sick-looking rumpled figure on her doorstep claiming to be someone’s ‘guardian angel’ is a new one…
20250823
Prompt from DailyPrompt.com
Cathy propped her fists on her hips and squinted incredulously at the rumpled figure. “I beg your pardon?”
“I said, I’m Zoe’s guardian angel.” They took another puff of their wrinkled cigarette, their dull eyes unwavering.
“What kind of angel smokes?” Cathy scoffed. “Much less looks like they just crawled out of a gutter after a weekend drug binge?”
“Have you seen the state of the fucking world??” They glowered at her, a hint of colour rising to their grey cheeks. “Did you read that poor kid’s case file? Eh? You be responsible for trying to protect a bundle of tender innocence for seven years while everyone in her life does their best to kick the shit out of her and see how you end up looking.”
“I…”
Ok, that… made the whole thing kinda plausible? But still hard to swallow.
“Look.” They sighed, the pluming cigarette smoke smelling of cloves and regret. “We don’t have time for you to play twenty questions, alright? Zoe’s in danger. You know she ran off, right?”
Cathy’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah, I’ve called the agency and put in a missing person report with the police. So if you were expecting that knowledge to impress me-”
“Fuck. You. She’s trapped in a shed behind 23 Brower Way. Owners can’t hear her, or me. Get your ass over there.” They jabbed a finger, their mouth hardening. “And be ready to comfort her, not go off on one, or so fucking help me I’ll find a way to haunt your dreams. She’s scared and alone and angry at the world, and believe me while yeah she’s young and unbalanced her rage is perfectly reasonable. She needs help, not ‘discipline’.”
Humph. She wasn’t going to rise to that bait.
“Yes, thank you, I’m a trained and experienced foster.”
They snorted. “Believe you me, lady, I wish that meant you weren’t going to hurt her further. I really do. Here’s hoping you work out better’n the rest.”
They flicked their cig to the ground and ground it out - and they were gone. No flash of light, no poof, not even a flicker. One moment she had a half-dead vagrant on her front step claiming to be an angel, the next she was staring across an empty driveway.
She looked down, her eyes automatically searching for the cigarette remains, but all she saw was a faint smeared stain which might have been a long-ago visitor stomping out their smoke before ringing the doorbell.
Their words, weary yet doggedly resolute, echoed in her head. Unceasing. Zoe’s in danger. She’s trapped in a shed behind 23 Brower Way.
“Ok, ok.” She muttered, turning back into the house. “I’ll need to text Reuben and get him to bring the car back, or… maybe I can ask him to go straight there, so long as I don’t say an angel notified me…”
Was it her imagination which muttered whatever it takes, lady? She knew from this moment on she’d never be certain.
Prompt was “Write a piece centred around guardian angels”.