Angels: Are they what you think?

                                                  April 15, 2007


Dear Sir or Madam:

I died on April 3rd, 2007. It was a suicidal death. I was sick of living and my life being—ahem—horrible. Right then I hesitated on a word. I think I’ll keep this letter curse-free because I’m already on a touchy subject. Death.  Okay, so it is not quite why I decided to kill myself; it is that I did actually follow through on it.

But me killing myself is not the matter here, or even what happens when you die, for even if I am asked, I will not tell anyone. I’ve been told that it should never be told to the living because it completely destroys the purpose of religion. That’s one of the main reasons for religion: answers to life’s biggest questions.

The matter here is what angels are. Now, during my life, I was never particularly religious, in fact, I considered myself atheist. And after my death, whatever I’ve believed in during my living years hasn’t been confirmed or debunked yet. And even if I did know, I would never tell because, again, that defeats the purpose of religion and would completely destroy the hearts of many around the world.  All I’ve learned is that angels exist.

Their job is to find some one on the brink of death (probably suicidal) and try to talk them out of it.  Now, I wasn’t one of the lucky few that got to meet an angel in life, but I’ve met many in the few days that I have been dead.  They are not particularly interesting or fun to talk to.  On the contrary, actually. They tend to be boring, uninspiring and completely absorbed in how they look. They dress like normal people of high fashion, carrying what seem to be designer bags and big sunglasses. Their wings are transparent in the sunlight, and at night, there is only a soft glow of indistinguishable feather if one looks close enough.

Angels walk the Earth, like normal people, blending in with the culture and everything. They live alone and don’t have many friends, and normally act stuck up.  The female ones have all in the male species hungry for them, and vice versa.  Now I know I’ve met a few in my life. They enroll in schools and get wages from jobs, and when they see someone suicidal, they go and talk to them.  That is the only point in time where they take off their sunglasses and hold a conversation face-to-face.  When one looks into the irises of their eyes, the color is matching to the color of their aura.

When someone who has been stubborn and snobby all their life dies, they become an angel, appearing on Earth at the age at which they were most snobby.  Their words when they are not talking to an individual about death are monitored.
I didn’t become an angel following my death.  I was probably not shallow enough.  But, looking at the way they, erm, not live, but thrive I guess would be the right word.  They do get that chance to save someone’s life, but few have ever succeeded.  There needs to be some sort of angel reform movement that would save the lives of many.  Of course, it is not up to me to decide who becomes an angel and who doesn’t.

All I ask, Sir or Madam, that you join the newly formed Angel Reform Movement.  Of course, to be reading this, you mustn’t be dead, so you could possibly become an angel yourself.  So, instead of taking on this job post-life, do it now during the short period of years you have to make a difference.

Please.  You do not want to spend the rest of eternity helping those about to die, only to never succeed.  That’s all I ask of you, to become a member of the Angel Reform Movement, in the Living division.  Even after my life, I’m going to continue to try to make a difference because it is something that I have never done during my living years. I will continue to write letters even if you don’t listen to me.  I will continue to save some lives because now I regret taking mine away.  Please.  Just listen to me.
                                Signed,
                                       [Signature is too difficult to read]