Chaos Angel

Bill stood overlooking the Hudson River, contemplating what reason he had for still living. He half expected an angel to appear, a wise guardian able to show him all the people who'd miss him were he no longer here. Instead, he found himself completely alone, a feeling that had grown so oppressive that any outcome would be preferable.

Bill did have a guardian angel. His name was Donald. He was scheduled to be at the bridge at exactly the moment he was most needed. Unfortunately, Donald did not believe in keeping a calendar. He preferred to wing it (pun intended).

Guardian Angel

Hank takes his job seriously. He clocks in every day on time, and stays exactly how long is required of him. So what if he never volunteers for overtime? There are plenty of colleagues eager to cover for him.

Hank never drinks to excess while on duty. Sure he may get a little tipsy on occasion, but not to the detriment of his charges, who remain his top priority. If anything, drinking in moderation calms his nerves and makes him more effective at angeling.

Yes, he sometimes parties with some friendly devils, but he's trying to convince them to repent.

Chatrang

“Your move,” Death said.

They can’t hear me. Please give me another chance. The mortal shivered.

“Thirteen moves.” The Guardian Angel moved his bishop.

The Death Angel smirked. "Check."

“It's never enough to defend their lives,” the Guardian sighed.

No, I don’t want to die.

“They never learn, do they?” Death chuckled. “No empathy for others, until violence knocks on their doors.”

No, please, I’m a good person.

“Someday, maybe, I hope to defend a man who is worth a decent game." The guardian placed his knight.

Oh god, I can’t see anything, I want to live!

Death roared, “Checkmate.”

From Guest Contributor Amberstar Rosette

Amberstar is a writer who lives in the Czech Republic