Scary4Kids: The Guardian Angel is a creepypasta story about a strange and deformed being that follows you wherever you go.
Ocean: Sounds like a stalker to me.
* * *
Monster: I am always with you.
Ocean: Oh, really? Where are you now? Do you know who I am, and where I am, exactly? Do you know if anyone else is with me?
Monster: I was there from the time you were born. I stood in the delivery room, staring down at you before you could even open your eyes to see me. Your parents, relatives and doctors couldn’t see me there, in the corner, watching you with cloudy eyes, but I was there from the time you were born.
Ocean: So, what were the circumstances of my birth, exactly? Can you tell me?
Monster: And I followed you home.
Ocean: When was that? For that matter, tell me, my monster, when I was born and when I went home.
You can't. You do not know.
Monster: I was with you always, your constant companion.
Ocean: No, you weren't. A companion is just that - a friend, and friends don't skulk around, gawking at people and trying not to be noticed. If you were my companion, I would've known about you, and you would've been there to laugh with me when I was happy, or comfort me when I needed it.
Monster: You played with your toys alone while I stared from all angles in nearby mirrors;
Ocean: Nope, for one thing, I didn't play with my toys around mirrors much. For another, how do you stare from all angles? You said nothing about moving around in the room while doing the staring. BTW, don't you know it's rude to stare?
Monster: my matted, clotted hair with oily sweat that hung off my dented forehead like glue.
Ocean: Ewww! Gross.
Monster: I was always your constant companion,
Ocean: No you weren't. I already explained why. See above.
Monster: drifting behind your mother’s car on your ride to preschool.
Ocean: well that would've been rather uncomfortable. Why not just get in the car?
Monster: You alone in the bathroom, but I was on the other side of the door,
Ocean: Well if you had to go that badly… Let's just say it was good of you not to do it on the floor. Thank you.
Monster: wind whistling through the bruised hole in my throat.
Ocean: Oh, you poor monster, who gave you that kind of a beating? You could've said something and I would've gotten them for you.
Monster: My arms twisted and hanging in their sockets as I stood hunched on the other side of the shower curtain.
Ocean: Yeah, you really don't know anything about where I take my bath/shower. But oh my gosh, we have to look into downing whoever tortured you.
You're not scaring me. You're making me pity you.
Monster: I wait and follow you. I follow and drift behind you.
Ocean: little girl me would've said "If you come forward, I won't bite, unless of course, you try to harm me or anyone I love. First, gotta get you cleaned up, though. Yeah, it's okay for you to use the tub or shower.
Present day me would grab you by one of your twisted arms and try to make you explain what you think you're doing here.
Monster: I’m not seen. I’m almost not-there in light.
Ocean: Why? Light makes stuff more visible. That's common sense.
Monster: You never saw me that morning as I sat across from you at the breakfast table,
Ocean: Which morning, exactly? What was I eating for breakfast? What time of morning was it? And there have been plenty of mornings when you couldn't sit at the table with me at all because my family was there.
Monster: a shiny red clot hanging from an empty tooth socket as I gaped grotesquely at you.
Ocean: You should've come to me when whoever had tortured you. I would've pummelled them.
Monster: I wonder sometimes if you know I’m there. I think you are aware, but you’ll never understand just how close I am.
Ocean: If you wanted my friendship so much, you should've come forward and let me know a long time ago. There have been some lonely, frightening times in my life when I could've used a friend, when I felt no one else was there to listen or understand me.
Monster: I spend hours of your day doing nothing more than breathing in your ear.
Ocean: And here I thought it was just the wind. Silly me. :p
Monster: Breathing – gagging, really.
Ocean: Gagging? Well, do you want to be around me or don't you? Make up your mind.
Monster: I crave to be close to you, to always wrap my crippled arms around your neck.
Ocean: There were times when the little girl me would've welcome that from a good friend, even you, if that's what you were, and you were good and gentle about it, but first, you'd have to get cleaned up.
Monster: I lie near you ever single night, cloudy eyes staring at your ceiling, underneath your bed, at your sleeping face in the dark.
Ocean: Nope, that doesn't work. You can't see my face if you're under my bed, you can't even stare at the ceiling when you're under there, and very often, I crash elsewhere in the house. So if you were trying to creep me out, it just didn't work.
Monster: Yes. You caught me staring occasionally.
Ocean: Nope. I have a severe vision problem and couldn't see you even if you were there.
Monster: Your parents came running down to your room one night when you screamed.
Ocean: Doesn't that happen with just about every little kid? Come on.
Monster: You were just beginning to talk, so you were only able to cry out “Man! Man in my room!”
Ocean: Nope, my nightmares weren't of that kind.
- wait…What!? - You're a man? And you watch somebody else's kids sleeping - Ed Cullen style?
*Scowl* Not - cool, pal, not cool AT ALL!
But maybe that does explain how you got the beatings and why you're trying to keep a low profile. Of course, if you had made friends with me when I was little, I wouldn't have understood how creepy it would be of you to be such a stalker unless and until you and I had a falling-out, or until I just grew up.
But I'm no little child now, so just you watch out, because one more wrong move, and I'll seek you out and make you regret it.
Monster: You thought you’d never forget the sight of me,
Ocean: Hey kook, I can't remember the sight of something I never saw.
Monster: with my collapsed jaw hanging to my chest, swinging back and forth.
Ocean: How is it you're managing to survive with all those injuries?
Monster: I sank back into your closet and your mother was unable to see me though you pointed and pointed and pointed.
Ocean: You're dreaming. Or you are terribly confused. I never pointed to anything when trying to explain what made me afraid as a little kid. I was never afraid of anything in my closet or under the bed.
Monster: You thought you’d never forget when they left that same night.
Ocean: You're off your rocker. My parents didn't go anywhere at night when I was little except back to bed.
Monster: You saw the closet door crack so softly
Ocean: That doesn't make an iota of sense. You don't see a closet door cracking quietly, you hear that. There were never any monsters or skeletons or anything of the like in my closet.
Monster: and me crawling across the floor to your bed on all fours, shambling in jerking movements as I pushed myself under your bed on disjointed limbs.
Ocean: Gosh, you really are in horrible shape. I would've been very sorry for you when I was little.
Monster: You learned a new word for me: boogeyman. Not quite the monster you thought I was.
Ocean: You know what I have always done concerning boogeymen? Laugh.
Monster: I’m just waiting and following you always, touching your face with my knotted fingers as you sleep.
Ocean: Not with my face being obstructed by blankets, pillow, my own hand or arm, and we had dogs when I was growing up, small dogs that would sleep with me or my brother. So there wouldn't have been much opportunity for you to do that without making them freak out.
Besides, you said you were under the bed. So which is it? Get your story straight.
And nowadays I don't even keep a regular sleeping schedule, so you'd never know when it was safe to sneak around and try to touch me.
Monster: You’ll see me again soon.
Ocean: What's this "again" stuff? I've never seen you before.
Monster: Any day now, I’m coming, blunt and brutal.
Ocean: Excuse me? I can't imagine you being brutal in your sorry condition, unless brutal ideas count. And trust you for that.
Monster: One day you’ll walk across the road and – I believe I’ll plow into you with loud roar and a screech.
Ocean: No, you won't, because you don't exist, and I don't walk alone outside in the real world, so if you want to plow into me, you'll have to deal with those I'm with, too.
Monster: You rolling on the pavement, rolling under wheels, bluntforce metal fenders and my fingers touching your face again and again.
Ocean: So, somehow you'll manage to cause an accident, or persuade some nut to run us both down so you and I will be lying helplessly in the street and then you'll touch my face with your fingers. Sure, makes sense. Not.
Monster: As you stare up from the cold pavement with cloudy eyes; your matted, clotted hair hanging in your face and your jaw unhinged and swinging to your chest.
Ocean: Oh, so that's how you got your injuries, you were hit by a vehicle. If my face is that badly injured, chances are great that my brain would be as well. At best, I'd be unconscious, so I wouldn't care one way or the other whether you were there or not.
Monster: You’ll see me approaching.
Ocean: No I wouldn't because I wouldn't care. And hey monster, if you and I get hit by that vehicle, you won't approach, you'd already be there.
Monster: No one else will see me. You will stare past them into my eyes and I’ll leer down at you.
Ocean: Besides already reminding you that I wouldn't care at this point, let's try to get this straight.
You'd go through all those years of stalking, only to arrange a vehicular hit so you could go on staring and touching your victim's face, something you claim to have been already doing for years anyway. I've got one burning question for you. Why?
Monster: For the first time in our life, something like a smile will come over my face.
Ocean: What? You think getting hit by a car is fun, and even more fun when you get hit along with whoever you've been stalking? You are one sick boogeyman.
Monster: You’ll swear you’re looking into a mirror as clotted red bubbles from our mouths.
Ocean: So, you'll be tickled pink - sorry - red, if I get injuries that make me match your appearance. I might've felt sorry for you at some time, but you've lost that sympathy. And in an unconscious state, I wouldn't care about you anyway. Get that through your head.
Monster: I’ll lean down, past the doctors and the ogling people and pick you up in my crooked arms.
Ocean: How are you going to manage that if you were also hit?
Monster: Our faces will touch.
Ocean: Again, how? You would be trapped right along with me, and you wouldn't be able to get in the way of the emergency crew.
Monster: My wings will unfurl.
Ocean: Oh, you know, I actually forgot you were supposedly an angel. Because you sure don't think like one or claim to behave like one.
Monster: And then you’ll have to follow me.
Ocean: Why, where are you going?
Well, thanks for letting me know your plans in advance.
There are a few things wrong with them, and one thing right.
The one thing right is you won't be able to carry them out.
Now the other stuff.
If I was to be injured to the extent you described, I would be in no condition to follow anyone anywhere, even if I did want to follow you, which I don't. I would either be in the hospital, or else dead, and if dead, I would be somewhere you just wouldn't be, and could never be.
You couldn't even be among real live people because you don't exist anyway.
So take that.
Monster: I am always with you.
Ocean: If you were, you could recall some of the stuff going on with me, and you would address me by name. You can't.
Monster: I am your guardian angel.
Ocean: No, you're a winged stalker with some serious injuries that will get worse if you try anything with me.
* * *
So, what happened to this Guardian Stalker?
He gets more than he bargained for.