Chapter 3 - Letters
Submitted October 29, 2006 Updated October 29, 2006 Status Complete | short story narrated in the first person. Susan is a woman haunted by a dark secret that has locked itself away in the chambers of her mind only to resurface every night in the form of a terrifying dream.
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Chapter 3 - Letters
Chapter 3 - Letters
Slamming the drawer, with a bang like a gun, I turn away still rubbing my eyes. Sinking into an armchair, I draw the letters to me sifting through them, the shadow of a grin flitting over my face. They're the secret letters we sent each when we kids, of course our parents new all about them really, we just used to imagine that we alone held the knowledge, we even had our code. We could just as easily have lent out our bedroom windows and called across to each other, but it was the excitement of waiting for the next letter, full of plans and schemes, that made it fun.
"Dear Helen, Mother says I'm to finish my homework before I come out and it's bound to take all night. Tomorrow though we shall start on the tree house as planned…"
"Dear Susan, Life here is so dull. I can't wait until tomorrow; we will go down to the stream and search for tadpoles, like we did last year it'll be such fun…"
Standing up, I go to return the letters to the battered oak drawer, but as do so something falls out of the pile. Fluttering like and autumn leaf to the ground, stooping I pick it up and glance at front. I stand arm in arm with a young man. He is extraordinarily handsome. He is tall, strikingly so, his eyes are the colour of the sea on a bright summer's morning and his hair black as the night sky, Geoffrey. I'd been going to marry him; he left me at the altar.
*"It was my fault, my fault he left you. He left you for me."*
Helen's voice echoes horribly inside my head. Where had the words come from?
*A hand reaching out, from the foaming broil mine drawing nearer to clasp it, tears pouring down my face. Her, desperate, screaming, pleading. My hand withdraws. For a second I look into her eyes with loathing; she'd once left me alone, now to let her see how it felt. No. My hand plunges into the water. For a moment my fingers brushes against her arm, but then she's pulled under and I can't reach.*
I'd killed her. It was me all along. It was my fault. My jealousy had destroyed an innocent life. I sink to my knees and weep silently onto the floor.
END
©Victoria Lucas 2004
"Dear Helen, Mother says I'm to finish my homework before I come out and it's bound to take all night. Tomorrow though we shall start on the tree house as planned…"
"Dear Susan, Life here is so dull. I can't wait until tomorrow; we will go down to the stream and search for tadpoles, like we did last year it'll be such fun…"
Standing up, I go to return the letters to the battered oak drawer, but as do so something falls out of the pile. Fluttering like and autumn leaf to the ground, stooping I pick it up and glance at front. I stand arm in arm with a young man. He is extraordinarily handsome. He is tall, strikingly so, his eyes are the colour of the sea on a bright summer's morning and his hair black as the night sky, Geoffrey. I'd been going to marry him; he left me at the altar.
*"It was my fault, my fault he left you. He left you for me."*
Helen's voice echoes horribly inside my head. Where had the words come from?
*A hand reaching out, from the foaming broil mine drawing nearer to clasp it, tears pouring down my face. Her, desperate, screaming, pleading. My hand withdraws. For a second I look into her eyes with loathing; she'd once left me alone, now to let her see how it felt. No. My hand plunges into the water. For a moment my fingers brushes against her arm, but then she's pulled under and I can't reach.*
I'd killed her. It was me all along. It was my fault. My jealousy had destroyed an innocent life. I sink to my knees and weep silently onto the floor.
END
©Victoria Lucas 2004
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