Saved from a hur­ri­cane by an­gels

But some­one – or some­thing – was on my side Kerin Webb, 55, from Bournemouth, Dorset

Chat It's Fate - - Contents -

Cycling along, I sang aloud to an Elvis song. It was sum­mer 1983, I was head­ing for my petrol sta­tion shift.

Sud­denly, it was as if in­vis­i­ble hands grabbed the col­lar of my bomber jacket, lift­ing me from the sad­dle.

Flip­ping through the air, I rolled into the mid­dle of the road, cars swerv­ing to avoid me. Ut­terly ter­ri­fy­ing. Clam­ber­ing to safety, I gaw­ped at the man­gled wreck of my bike.

A lorry had crushed it be­neath its wheels.

A mir­a­cle

Some­one must have called the po­lice be­cause, min­utes later, of­fi­cers ar­rived.

A motorist who’d stopped ex­plained the truck’s load of scaf­fold­ing had come loose, and swung to the left.

‘I saw the scaf­fold­ing hit you as it went past,’ he told me.

But I’d felt noth­ing. And, like my bike, I should have been crushed. In­stead, mirac­u­lously, I was un­scathed.

It was as if I’d been pulled out of the lorry’s path, then placed back down sec­onds later.

Be­ing spir­i­tual, I knew there was only one ex­pla­na­tion. I’d been saved by my guardian an­gel. Grate­ful doesn’t come close.

Ter­ri­ble storm

Then, in Oc­to­ber 1987, aged 26, I went with friends to a spir­i­tual fes­ti­val in Cam­ber Sands, East Sus­sex.

On the fi­nal night, we had a party. Later, I made my way back to the mo­bile home I’d rented. But at around 5am, I was jolted awake when the car­a­van lurched vi­o­lently. As I opened my eyes, I stared with amaze­ment. Float­ing over the bed were the out­lines of two pul­sat­ing winged an­gels. Then they dis­ap­peared. Out­side, a ter­ri­ble storm was rag­ing. Rain pelted against the win­dows, howl­ing winds rocked the mo­bile home. And a hor­ri­ble fore­bod­ing hung in the air. Sud­denly, I heard a voice… ‘You have to get out of the bed­room,’ it said. Adren­a­line pump­ing, I jumped up, pulled on some clothes, then darted to the liv­ing room.

As the mo­bile home shook fe­ro­ciously, I started to pray to the an­gels.

‘I’m afraid. Please pro­tect me,’ I begged.

Then I lay down on the sofa un­der the win­dow.

As I did, there was a deaf­en­ing bang. The mo­bile home shud­dered, then lurched sev­eral feet up­wards.

It was as if time stood still. I saw my­self sus­pended in the air, fur­ni­ture fly­ing around me.


Bangs echoed as the fur­ni­ture smashed against the walls and floor. Cut­lery shot out of draw­ers.

Then I was plunged into black­ness as the lights went out.

A split sec­ond later, I was out­side, gently float­ing down­wards. I landed on soft, wet grass just feet away.

Frozen with fear, I watched as the car­a­van was thrown around, smashed to pieces by the thrash­ing wind.

I stared, stunned at the dev­as­ta­tion around me.

The mo­bile home had bounced on my hire car, crush­ing it, and knocked down a wall.

I ran to the guard in the car­a­van park of­fice.

‘My mo­bile home’s been de­stroyed,’ I told him over the scream­ing wind.

Saved again

To­gether, we evac­u­ated the other car­a­vans, gath­ered ev­ery­one in a nearby build­ing.

Once ev­ery­one was safe, my legs gave way with the shock

Float­ing over my bed were two winged an­gels I watched as the car­a­van was thrown around

of it all.

Taken to hos­pi­tal, I had a cut to my an­kle stitched.

Though it was a mir­a­cle I’d walked away with only a mi­nor in­jury.

Trav­el­ling home by train the fol­low­ing day, I was hor­ri­fied by the up­rooted trees, boats pulled from the sea and tossed onto the shore, de­bris strewn on roads. That’s when it hit me. I’d been car­ried to safety by an­gels – again.

They must have lifted me through the win­dow, placed

me down safely away from all the de­struc­tion. For the sec­ond time in four years, they’d saved my life.

As time passed, I started sens­ing an an­gel with me.

‘What’s your name?’ I asked her one day.

‘Aurora,’ a voice whis­pered in my head.

Turn­ing, I spot­ted a pile of books in my bed­room.

I knew spir­its could give signs through books, known as the li­brary an­gel phe­nom­e­non. ‘Please con­firm your name in a book,’ I said. Then, pick­ing one at ran­dom, I opened it. And, there on the page was the name Aurora. What were the chances of that? It was all the proof I needed.

IÕM blessed

In 2009, I started work­ing as a full-time psy­chic medium, giv­ing read­ings to peo­ple all over the world. I of­ten talk to Aurora. She is beau­ti­ful, with wings that shim­mer and long dark hair. I know Aurora’s been with me since the day I was born. And I’m sure it was her who saved me those two times. I owe the an­gels my life. I’m so blessed to have pro­tec­tion from above come rain, shine… or hur­ri­canes!

My saviour: An­gel pro­tec­tor

Help­ing oth­ers: Psy­chic read­ings

Feel­ing blessed: Aurora’s there

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