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Rated: E · Fiction · Contest Entry · #2002710
A daughter insists she can see something, a harried mother is in denial.
"I see an angel, mommy." My daughter paused, her voice coming from the back seat our minivan. "But it's not like the angels on Doctor Who." Unfortunately, the Weeping Angels episodes had inspired in our daughter several nights of screaming.

"Where honey?" I humored her, turning to look over my shoulder as signaled to change lanes.

"The angel mommy! It's right there!" Her voice was growing louder, more persistent. The usually cheerful tone was changing to something of urgency. Already twisted to look over my shoulder, I peered at my daughter. A single finger was pointing to the front of the car.

My eyes went to the traffic again, watching it trickle by.

"Mommy! The ANGEL!" My daughter insisted, loudly. "It's right there!"

Needing a moment of silence to gauge just how fast the oncoming cars were coming, I yelled back to my daughter.

"You're imagining things!" And I made the turn.

When my eyes snapped open the scene was blurry; my eyes refused to focus and I blinked repeatedly. Over my own heartbeat sounding in my ears, I could hear my daughter calling for me.

When the plastic click of the seat-belt sounded, I fell hard onto the roof of the overturned minivan.

Looking to the rear of the vehicle, I could see my daughter. She was shaken and frightened but not bleeding, I began to make my way to her.

"Baby, it's okay." I assured her, reaching to do a quick check for broken bones.

She grasped my hands, giving them a squeeze. Withdrawing slowly, I moved to release her from the car seat.

"Mommy." She whispered as I checked her over once more.

"Yes baby?" I crooned without thought.

"The angels in the car now. He says you're welcome.”

Word Count: 295
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