My Wings Got Lost with the Luggage — Mark Griffin

A little town seen through the eys of an angel. My name is Griffin Marcus. I am a little town guardian angel. I'm not a saint or a star of any sort; more of a down-home, seat-of-the-pants, no-frills, what you see is what you get angel. When I was on Earth in the 1890s I was murdered by a crazy woman who claimed to be my wife. The bullet shot right through my head and killed my dog. The Parker Town sheriff arrested her. The next day the townspeople hung her for murder. Of course, I can still hear it now: "Saloon keepers are a dime a dozen But shootin' a good dog Now that's a hangin' offense." Justice was a lot swifter back then. A tree limb was not hard to come by and neither was a rope. I met the shooter on the Other Side and it turns out she had one of those chemical imbalances that made her delusional. Our paths cross now and then but she still makes me nervous. My job, as the Head Guardian Angel of Parker Town, nestled at 11,000 feet in the Rocky Mountains, is to keep a journal; snippets and stories of the "goings on" for the last 100 years. I'm a bit behind and God is not thrilled about it. He has even shown me a slide-show of my next possible mission; a little paradise called Bangladesh.