Why are good days so full of crap? She didn't understand why that always seemed to happen. Today was here first day of classes and everything seemed to go wrong. The Registrar was painfully ignorant of the basics of common decency, and it went down hill from there. But she'd made it through her first day and felt she was on her way to something so much better than what she'd ever had. She was not kidding herself, it would be difficult, he'd told her as much. But she was ready for difficult, difficult didn't bother her. It was success that she was worried about. She'd never done success well and it terrified her. But he said she could do it, and she believed him.

The rocks were worn smooth by the water. The sound irritated her. Everything irritated her. The birds, the kids and their harpy mothers, the bright blue sky and the crystal clear water. It had been three days now and she was hurting. Physically and spiritually. She didn't even believe she had a spirit, but it hurt like hell. She couldn't stop thinking about the guy at the store. He just stood there, looking at her...why? She couldn't shake the feeling that she was at a crossroad. She could chose to do what her body and mind screamed for her to do and find a fix or she could stop. For good. She was beginning to regret the decision she'd made. She had to find some help.

Soon the classes and school work seemed to melt into one. The gauntlet of the first day had given way to an easy monotony of classes, smiles, stale jokes and homework. She had never met people like these before. Sure, some were like her, trying to rebuild themselves, but others were fresh and unspoiled. In someways she envied them, but was old enough to know that it was useless to want to be them. She was who she was, through experience and choice. And for the first time in a long time she was beginning to enjoy herself, to enjoy who she was. The class work was hard, but not insurmountable. She was glad she could begin using words that were more than four letters long, words with rich almost forgotten histories. In fact, she found a thirst for words she had never known before and was drinking in new ones daily. In an odd way, words were her new fix. She had to learn a new one daily and felt cheated if she didn't. Some words were beautiful, some just felt good to say, some conjured mystery and others felt ordinary but strong. Much like the people in her life.

Rehab is a joke, full of losers and half-wits! At least that was what she'd thought when she'd started. Until it hit her that she was in rehab too. Then she started working for her sobriety. She'd graduated the 28 day program with high hopes and was lucky enough to find some housing that continued her treatment. They had made her get a job, but she was no longer picky abut what she did. After all, nothing could be as bad as what she had done in the past. Nothing. Bagging and delivering groceries wasn't half bad though. She got out, met people and enjoyed her country surroundings. Always the city girl, she had despised country people, but found that they had a wisdom missing from the city. They approached life honestly and with a realism that only seemed naive.

Graduation brought change. Graduation focused the mind on change. But change is not always bad. She had changed and that was a good thing. But more change was coming. The offer of a job, making good money, in a smaller city close to the coast was her dream come true. The offer had come out of nowhere and shocked her. She had been putting out resumes in the big cities, but never got anything back. Then the call had come to work in an established art house with the work requirements fitting her strengths almost perfectly. She wondered briefly if he had had a hand in the offer, but dismissed it as superstition. It had been a long time since she'd thought of him and the Incident.

She stood on the dock, about to make what she thought was a routine delivery. It was eerie though, standing here is in the dusk. The air was cool and whispered of winter to come. The woods looked like they were brooding and she she shivered from the looks of them as much as from the air. She had missed the early signs that might have alerted her to the coming events and so she went in ignorance to the woods.

Remembering now, it seemed strange how much her life has changed.

The woods quickly turned dusk into night. Her thoughts darkened almost as quickly. Why come here, why do this? Why continue the charade of sobriety? The beasts hidden in the woods, she imagined she could see their gleaming red eyes, howled back her thoughts. Their cries of anguish complimented her growing melancholy. And she almost turned back.

It was pointless to wonder what would've become of her if she had turned back, because she already knew. She would've been dead by now.

The woods gave way to what seemed to her a dismal clearing cluttered by a dilapidated shack. Weeds, unpainted shutters, and dim windows didn't help her impression. She'd always hated coming here, the place gave her the creeps. Being here at night didn't help. She'd never met the people who lived here - they were usually out on the lake or something, she wasn't sure. That they trusted her to come in their home and leave the groceries while they were not home creeped her out too. Surely they had to have something wrong with them if they trusted so much, right?

The memories came flooding back...

The house itself was dark, felt empty. Something was missing, but she couldn't put her finger on what. Whatever it was, she didn't want to get blamed. She rushed over to put the groceries down and that was when she saw it. An envelope addressed to her. She opened it without thinking...

The "Incident"

Dear -,
I daresay you will not remember me, but I want to thank you. You gave me hope the day we first met, and saved my life the last time we met. You may think these are the mad musings of a mad man, but they are not. I owe you a debt that I am afraid I can never repay, and I thought you should know. I have come to think of you as an Angel, one of God's divine creatures, sent to me in times of doubt and self destruction;sent to wake me from the stupor of my life.
The first time we met, I was walking without purpose through my life. I was in a dead marriage and a dead end job. I put on a good show though, and I don't think any but the most observant knew what I was hiding. Then you came flying into my life and stirred me from my slumber. It was your first attempt at getting me to see the important things of my life, though you did not know it. I have called you an Angel, but you were a dirty one. You did not know of your own divine nature. You were trapped in the filth of the world, but I could see you ached to be free of it. I could tell you wanted better. And somehow, I knew you deserved better. Then you left me, running into the night. I am sad to say I quickly returned to sleep and went about my life as if you'd never been.
So God sent you again. This time you made sure I would listen. I can vividly recall staring into your eyes as your gun was pressed to my forehead. I could not believe what I saw. They looked dead at first glance, consumed by desire for death. But underneath, where you were barely aware, was beauty. My God! You had the most beautiful eyes I had ever seen! I am not talking of an earthly beauty to be lusted after, I am talking a beauty of divine origin. A bountiful spirit and drive, a capacity to do great things. Yes, your outward appearance was that of a junkie, but inside you were a Godsend. I realized then I had to wake up.
And you let me live. You saved me physically and spiritually. A double gift! It was the next day that I was diagnosed with cancer. You see Ihad not been feeling well and had gotten rather depressed over my condition. I was quite prepared to kill myself that night, until you put the gun to my head and showed me my own cowardice. Such was the power of that encounter, and the beauty of your eyes, that I was able to hear my diagnosis without sinking into despair again. I then set out to free the people around me. As I said, my marriage was bad, so I let my wife out - to pursue her own happiness, a happiness she so richly deserves. I removed my self from the world to die on my own terms, in the place I loved best. Not as an act of despair, but as one of acceptance. I also set about learning about you. I know that sounds very "creepy," but I had to know who my Angel was. And learn I did.
Thank you, Angel. I can never repay my debt to you, but that does not mean I cannot try. I know that you have thrown off the yolk of addiction - but be ever watchful for its call - and that you want more for your life. I have arranged for you to be enrolled in school, if you so choose. I have made arrangements for your tuition, so you need not worry about cost. I know you can succeed, I know you are worth the effort and time. I know because I have seen it, in your eyes. My only hope is that you can now see it as well.
Please, accept my meager efforts and leave this place. Do not look around or pry. Leave and call the authorities, for if you are reading this, I have gone. I have loved you from afar for the gifts that you unknowingly gave. Please, accept that love, and learn to make it your own.