jayyy-lmao
May 30th, 2013, 09:08 AM
So, I found a writing prompt that said "Write about finding a love letter from fifty years ago" and I got on a roll with it. This is what I got so far:
Chaz had been rummaging through the wardrobe looking for something wildly different than what he found. He had been searching for his camera, which he had somehow misplaced, even though it rarely left his side. As he searched for the beloved camera, he became increasingly exasperated.
"Where the fuck has it gone?!" he shouted in anger. The camera had phenomenal photos on it, it was a documentation of Chaz's amazing skill. He grabbed the box in the bottom of the wardrobe and lifted it out. He rummaged through the contents, chucking most of them onto the floor. A DVD, an old radio, an old photo album, a book, some pens, some paper, and then the envelope. Chaz looked at it in a puzzled manner. He had never seen it before. It was sealed, the paper yellowing, and covered in dust. He plopped down on his bed and opened the letter carefully. He made an effort not to rip the envelope, though he had no idea why. It just felt like he shouldn't break it to him. He broke the final bit of seal, and gently slid the letter from the envelope. It made a crisp rustling noise as it slid. He carefully unfolded the letter, and noticed it was hand written. The letter read:
17th of May, 2013
Twelve Collins Road,
Beaumont, Dublin 9,
Ireland
Dear Gray,
Happy birthday. You're fifteen now. Gettin' old. Finally a teenager. I'd send you a text that had a video of me singing happy birthday, but I deleted your number. I was going to sing One Direction's "What Makes You Beautiful" for you, but then again, no. I want you to know this before I continue this letter; I love you. There, I said it. All those texts avoiding the L word are for nothing now. I was scared to say it, because I thought it'd freak you out. But I don't want that. But back to the point. I love you. You're beautiful, smart, funny, kind, compassionate, interesting, cute and insecure. You have problems, yes, you tell me you have, but I don't care. As long as one person sees perfection in you, why can't you just ignore the flaws? But I'm writing this with an ulterior motive. I'm done. Finished. You don't see me as your friend anymore. I'm not even friendzoned. You don't care. I make you feel awkward, and whenever I make you blush, you feel guilty. I'm done with being prepared to drop everything, give everything for you. What is the point in me loving you if all you do is love him and ignore me completely? I'm so angry, and it hurts so much. I hope you see what effect this has had on me. I'm so tired of hurting. I want you to hurt, but I don't want to hurt you. I want you to feel the way I feel. It's not fair for me to harbour all the pain. So I decided that I'm just gonna get over you. The best way to get over you is to completely disassociate from you. Basically, I'm never talking to you again. I never want to see you again. I'm sorry. I love you so much. But it hurts too much for me to stand. I'm sorry, Gray.
Goodbye, my love,
Tegan
Chaz held the letter for a few moments after he finished reading it. It was a love letter. About fifty years old. From a girl named Tegan to another girl called Gray. The address was one he didn't know, but was in his city. He dropped the letter and ran to the computer. Google maps. He typed the address into the searchbar. It came up on the map. It was a four minute walk from his house. He grabbed a post-it note and quickly scribbled "Went for a walk. Back soon. -Chaz" for his mum. He grabbed his hoodie and locked the door behind him.
It was a short walk to the address. He had to double take to make sure it was right. The house was of normal size, completely run down, boarded windows and a caving roof.
"I am going to regret this indefinitely," Chaz murmured to himself as he hopped the wall to the house's garden. He walked up the path cautiously, as it was viciously overgrown with vines and weeds. As he reached the door he felt a weird chill; like he was about to pry into someone's life. But he already had. The door was stuck, so he glanced around, and seeing no one was around, kicked in the door. It fell flat on the ground. He cautiously stepped into the darkness. He pulled out his phone to use as a light, and held it in front of him as a guide. His feet stirred the dust, leaving footprints on the ground. There was upturned furniture everywhere, and other looming shapes covered in sheets. He searched the downstairs and found nothing of interest, so he ventured up the ageing stairs, creaking with every step. As he walked he dragged his hand along the wall, leaving a line of dust in his wake. He saw, on the doorframe, about twenty small scratches, with names and numbers drawn in colour beside them. One said "Gray, 7", another "John, 4". They were a child's height chart. It brought a tear to Chaz's eye. He had no idea why.
"I'm going to find them. I am. Even if it's the last thing I do," Chaz promised the silence.
Chaz had been rummaging through the wardrobe looking for something wildly different than what he found. He had been searching for his camera, which he had somehow misplaced, even though it rarely left his side. As he searched for the beloved camera, he became increasingly exasperated.
"Where the fuck has it gone?!" he shouted in anger. The camera had phenomenal photos on it, it was a documentation of Chaz's amazing skill. He grabbed the box in the bottom of the wardrobe and lifted it out. He rummaged through the contents, chucking most of them onto the floor. A DVD, an old radio, an old photo album, a book, some pens, some paper, and then the envelope. Chaz looked at it in a puzzled manner. He had never seen it before. It was sealed, the paper yellowing, and covered in dust. He plopped down on his bed and opened the letter carefully. He made an effort not to rip the envelope, though he had no idea why. It just felt like he shouldn't break it to him. He broke the final bit of seal, and gently slid the letter from the envelope. It made a crisp rustling noise as it slid. He carefully unfolded the letter, and noticed it was hand written. The letter read:
17th of May, 2013
Twelve Collins Road,
Beaumont, Dublin 9,
Ireland
Dear Gray,
Happy birthday. You're fifteen now. Gettin' old. Finally a teenager. I'd send you a text that had a video of me singing happy birthday, but I deleted your number. I was going to sing One Direction's "What Makes You Beautiful" for you, but then again, no. I want you to know this before I continue this letter; I love you. There, I said it. All those texts avoiding the L word are for nothing now. I was scared to say it, because I thought it'd freak you out. But I don't want that. But back to the point. I love you. You're beautiful, smart, funny, kind, compassionate, interesting, cute and insecure. You have problems, yes, you tell me you have, but I don't care. As long as one person sees perfection in you, why can't you just ignore the flaws? But I'm writing this with an ulterior motive. I'm done. Finished. You don't see me as your friend anymore. I'm not even friendzoned. You don't care. I make you feel awkward, and whenever I make you blush, you feel guilty. I'm done with being prepared to drop everything, give everything for you. What is the point in me loving you if all you do is love him and ignore me completely? I'm so angry, and it hurts so much. I hope you see what effect this has had on me. I'm so tired of hurting. I want you to hurt, but I don't want to hurt you. I want you to feel the way I feel. It's not fair for me to harbour all the pain. So I decided that I'm just gonna get over you. The best way to get over you is to completely disassociate from you. Basically, I'm never talking to you again. I never want to see you again. I'm sorry. I love you so much. But it hurts too much for me to stand. I'm sorry, Gray.
Goodbye, my love,
Tegan
Chaz held the letter for a few moments after he finished reading it. It was a love letter. About fifty years old. From a girl named Tegan to another girl called Gray. The address was one he didn't know, but was in his city. He dropped the letter and ran to the computer. Google maps. He typed the address into the searchbar. It came up on the map. It was a four minute walk from his house. He grabbed a post-it note and quickly scribbled "Went for a walk. Back soon. -Chaz" for his mum. He grabbed his hoodie and locked the door behind him.
It was a short walk to the address. He had to double take to make sure it was right. The house was of normal size, completely run down, boarded windows and a caving roof.
"I am going to regret this indefinitely," Chaz murmured to himself as he hopped the wall to the house's garden. He walked up the path cautiously, as it was viciously overgrown with vines and weeds. As he reached the door he felt a weird chill; like he was about to pry into someone's life. But he already had. The door was stuck, so he glanced around, and seeing no one was around, kicked in the door. It fell flat on the ground. He cautiously stepped into the darkness. He pulled out his phone to use as a light, and held it in front of him as a guide. His feet stirred the dust, leaving footprints on the ground. There was upturned furniture everywhere, and other looming shapes covered in sheets. He searched the downstairs and found nothing of interest, so he ventured up the ageing stairs, creaking with every step. As he walked he dragged his hand along the wall, leaving a line of dust in his wake. He saw, on the doorframe, about twenty small scratches, with names and numbers drawn in colour beside them. One said "Gray, 7", another "John, 4". They were a child's height chart. It brought a tear to Chaz's eye. He had no idea why.
"I'm going to find them. I am. Even if it's the last thing I do," Chaz promised the silence.