She had quoted angels before. She has felt their presence 3 times. And after each, goosebumps and the hairs on my neck stand straight... "lovely she said".

It was in the window sill, while her grandfather cleaned up his work shop..His shotgun boomed. Gunpowder infiltrating the nostrils. And the gun smoke rolled in like a fog.. the air was heavy like morning dew.
In the flash ..time stopping and starting all over simultaneously, her body fell limp.. creeping into the crevice of her chest, cold. Her flesh numb...
She was 4years old. This moment. This instance. It delivered her under the protection from a friend, or guardian... Her grandfather did his best to cover the terror in his voice.. To lesson the hurt. Minimize the shock. Lights dangling above the wood shop. Freckled with dark red splatter..
And yet, while laying on her side gasping for air, and struggling to make sense of the ringing echoing in her ears... Oddly, she felt safe. She felt the presence of her Angel. An angel had shoved her only an inch, but that inch would have hit her heart, and lungs. The push saved her from never being upright, and rather gave her the chance to know.. and to know how to walk right side down, and her head up high. A lesson in humility, and perseverance...
No matter how you choose to skin it.. the story never faded, nor did it grow..it simply was - white feathered wings held her.... The fields of brown golden cat tails chased one another in a gust freely along a vacant lot. Her eyes locked in on faces running across the acres like recess ringing it's bell... And then her day melted to night, while the night prepared a greeting to sunrise... Luminance of a blue moon.. saying good night moon. When the heat lifted, and evening lows and louds' nestled into the horizon, and again Daylight loads of fluff rose from the East.
She was changed. And she was going to go on to create. The art of writing. The creativity of rhythm and song. A poetic carousel... And there was going to be a long line. She had a following. And she had a purse full of positivity... and colored pens.
His gun sound loaded. Her adrenaline pumping. Shots rung out into dance..

And the type writer dinged, and clacked and clucked ...and reeled.
The emperor was pleased, and pleased so, he placed the writings she wrote..fit for a special place in his palace...