This Angel Didn’t Have a Halo

Daily Prompt: Wrong Turns.
When was the last time you got lost? Was it an enjoyable experience, or a stressful one? Tell us all about it.

Note: This is not fiction. It is a true story reconstructed from the key character’s recollection of the incident.

My coach took off from Cardiff in the wee hours of the morning and only hours past mid-day I had arrived Birmingham. My holiday so far was a memorable one. I had arrived at London. From there I headed to Cardiff and onwards to Birmingham with the intention of returning back to London. Although it was a tight schedule there was no way I was going to miss seeing Birmingham once again and with it the opportunity of meeting up with a friend who was studying in nearby Coventry.

Photo Credit: webweaver.nu

Photo Credit: webweaver.nu

I got off the coach taking my time to breath slowly for fear that if I took in air all in one gulp I would forget faster the unique fragrance of Birmingham’s environment when I returned home. Walking anxiously towards the Bull Ring I couldn’t wait to see those views I had gotten accustomed to in my rather short year here. Waiting for ‘friend’ I sat in clear view of one of the cathedrals. It was a beautiful sight and memories began flooding in.

Soon enough he arrived and the catching up was fun. We paraded the whole of the city centre and eventually ended our sojourn at a KFC to eat. It was only then I recalled that I had not gotten an address and a description of my accommodation for the night.  Silly me.

I had intended to take a taxi but my host had convinced me to use the frugal option. She had said it was just a single stop plus about 5 minutes walk and I will be home. So I agreed. The decker bus it was!

Had always loved riding on the top floor of the bus especially at night because of the lovely view it threw at my disposal save for the noisy and sometimes dope spirited teenagers one could greet on some lemon days. However, this day was not such day. I sat right where I loved and as promised I in no time I was at my stop.

I was greeted with the cold winter air as I alighted to begin my short walk to warmth. It wasn’t winter proper. More like the end of summer but since I was visiting from a country where it is summer all year round then this chill certianly qualified as winter. Waltzing in the direction I believed was the way home I waited to see the next landmark that signalled that I was right on track but to no avail. ‘I must have taken the opposite route’ I thought to myself and immediately made a 360 in the adjacent direction. After what seemed like a decade in this unfriendly weather I decided that it was time to ask other pedestrians.

It took nearly 10 minutes before a few came along and no one seemed to know where the major landmark I was given was located – the cemetery. I had had enough! I was certian a simple call to my host would end my misery. So I grabbed my phone and was about to put a call across only to be shocked with the realisation that my battery was too low to support calls; in its usual unreliable manner my blackberry phone had died on me. Well, the next course of action would be to ask a passer by for a phone to make a call. How hard could it be?

There were quite a number of passers by; a number were suspicious and scurried away without listening to a word of what I had to say. A few others were trusting enough to let me explain my predicament; they were sympathetic and were even willing to help but did not have call credit. Off course they were lying! Maybe if I were in their shoes I would have lied as well. Afterall even mothers advise their children to steer clear from strangers. After a series of attempts I had quickly become a pro in the act of street begging and in the end there was a payoff. Yipee! A gentleman was kind enough to put a call through to my host’s number but was not trusting enough to allow me hold on to the phone. Smart one I must say.

After the call, I realised I was a long trek away from home. I had to brace up and just keep walking. I shuffled fifteen minutes down the hill and still no cemetery in sight. ‘Okome somboree’! Only then I sighted an off license shop and I hurriedly went over to ask for directions but the owner did not have any idea about my destination. If for nothing I was glad for the short moment of warmth.

Come on! Off course I had thought of taking a taxi. There were no taxi stands in this part of town and as at now my phone was stone cold dead.

Back in the cold, at this point I had lost hope of ever finding my destination. I felt lost. Of course I was lost, but the feeling of being lost just began to set in. The reality of spending the night in the cold began to rub in. I was hurt. Hot tears had just began to well up. Pratical me began to scout for a corner to sleep because at this point I was fatigued. I had resolved to lay on the bench in a park where some youngsters were getting stoned after they had retired for the night; for the cold I decided I will wear a layer of clothes from my travelling bag which I had been hurling around with me the whole time; the bag would definitely make a good pillow as it wasn’t hard case. Now all that was left was for these kiddos to vacate my spot. I sat right in front of the store and to worsen the whole scenario light showers began to pour.

It was just when I had hit rock bottom that God sent me an angel. No! He did not have a halo, he wasn’t wearing white neither was he white. He did not have a wing but drove a black sport car. Nothing fancy I must say. If I was a third party I would have sworn he was the opposite of a stereotypical angel. At least, a quick profiling would have suggested that. He had come to buy a smoke and was exiting the shop we he laid eyes on forlorn me. He walked up to me and asked what the problem was and I gladly explained my predicament to him. At this point my situation had gone from bad to worse because I only had the full address of my destination on mobile which had finally called it quits. So I managed to provide a shabby direction accompanied with what was left of the address from memory.

Mr. Angel asked me to hop in. Scared but without another tangible option I did as he instructed. He tried to make small talk as he drove me to his house to rape me and hack me up warmth. He dropped me off and we said our goodbyes. He waited until I was safely indoors before driving off. On getting home, the search party (made up of my host and a few friends) which had gone out to get me were called off.

From this day hence forth I have believed that angels comes in different shades, shapes and sizes.

What is your opinion of angels? Do you think they are shape shifters?

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