Reads: 132  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 0

Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

Want to get rid of these ads?

Guardian Angel is a short, short story about racism, and not being welcomed in certain neighborhoods. The story is about a female with a history of panic attacks getting lost in a strange neighborhood. The short tale demonstrates that there is still good in the world when a good Samaritan rescues the hero.


Charlotte glanced at her mobile, and when her head lifted, her companion had dropped out of sight. Emotions bubbled, and her face flushed with warmth as the throng doubled.

Her neighbor in their senior apartment persuaded Charlotte to accompany her on the shopping trip and promised the two would hang together. Frustration building, she stared at the onslaught of faces, gasping for air. “I’ll never find her.” Fear and desperation attacking her, she decided to go back to the tour bus.

Struggling to breathe and sensing a panic attack, she fought through the crowd toward the outside as tears welled in her eyes. She let out a loud sigh after strolling through the exit doors.

After walking for several minutes, her pulse accelerated, and her head spun, sensing she was lost and didn’t know how to find the bus. She was disoriented easily and often lost her way in her home city. Being in a different town with a group of strange people increased her terror. Fear rose like a flood.

 She gazed up and down streets, looking for the blue transport, and spotted flashing neon signs. She headed in the direction of the blinking lights, deciding she should head back to the mall and wait for the bus. Confusion and doubt trailed, whispering, “There are four entrances to the shopping center. What if you’re at the wrong door and get left here?” Remorse consumed her, and thoughts darted that she should never have agreed to participate in the outing.

Her stomach and heart fluttered as darkness approached.

 Her armpits soaked her blouse, and sweat dripped from her face. She dragged her feet from what seemed like quicksand and continued walking.

The blackness penetrated her skin, and invisible tentacles pricked her body.

The pathway was dim with little lighting. Couples strolled past without saying anything, except for a cluster of five who said, “Hello.”

Before she turned to ask directions, the group disappeared into the night.

Footsteps echoed behind her. Her heart in her throat, she picked up her pace. Silhouettes of several men approaching her came into view, and her heart froze.

Flashes of former assaults roamed through her head. Panic set in. Oxygen soared beyond her while her heart pumped without a pause. Like a raging sea that could not rest, her pulse rate accelerated. The assembly of men vanished into the darkness.

Presentiment stung her body, and then suddenly, someone snatched her head backward. When her face turned sideways, yellow-tinged teeth glistened under the lamp post, and waist-length, matted, black hair spread in all directions over the shoulders of a tall male. Dark, empty pupils filled the orbital pit, and a broad, pickled nose gaped in the middle.

She snatched away to run, and her forehead ran into a knuckle. As she staggered, trying to keep from falling to the pavement, a stringy-haired female slapped her face. The man with the matted hair body-slammed her to the ground like a wrestler.

The situation’s intensity frightened her to her core, but she remembered to pray, groaning in pain while blood splattered.

A male voice chuckled as a fist slammed against her right cheek, and another punch struck her left cheek. She wrapped her arms across her face, twisting her small frame into a fetal position. Sharp pains spread throughout her torso when a boot clobbered her back and buttocks.

As she moaned in agony, a baritone voice halted the kicking. “Step away from her.”

The batterers glared at the intruder. One said, “She’s in the wrong neighborhood.”

“Now!” the male voice said.

Two men and a teenage male moved toward the interferer while two women shouted obscenities.

The man with the baritone voice pulled a black Glock automatic from a holster on his side and put it to the forehead of the tall man with the matted hair. “Out of here, now. I’m not going to repeat myself.”

Like scared dogs, the teen and two couples fled the scene.





Submitted: May 04, 2022

© Copyright 2022 B H Carter. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments:

Facebook Comments

More Flash Fiction Short Stories

Boosted Content from Other Authors

Short Story / Historical Fiction

Short Story / Science Fiction

Short Story / Literary Fiction

Other Content by B H Carter

Short Story / Memoir

Short Story / Flash Fiction

Writing Contest / Fantasy