“Then I wouldn’t waste your time”

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With great haste, I raced to my door to pull it open, but when I looked outside, all I felt was a slight breeze and no one there. The moon shone through the blurry clouds above me and I wondered if A was any more than a ghost. How did he deliver this letter so quickly? I looked left and right, feeling a slight chill. And how did he disappear so fast?

Deciding to put those thoughts aside and allowing myself to be overcome with excitement, I closed the door and picked up the letter. It was folded neatly this time. I brought it over to my desk so I could respond as fast as I read. I smiled as my fingers traced the parchment. It looked well loved and worn, as if the paper was torn from an old, yellowed book. I was so excited to read it. I unfolded it and let my eyes wander the page:

“Dear Miss Monroe,

I apologize for my late response. I am afraid most of your questions will be left unanswered as I do not yet feel comfortable relaying my intimate life with you just yet. However, I will most happily inform you that I do love to write and am happy you do as well. I remember you mentioning you came to study abroad for writing. How is that going for you? May you deliver me some of your writings? I am most intrigued.”

I hadn’t even finished yet and my heart was already soaring with a feeling I couldn’t yet describe. He was interested in what I wrote! My mind raced with what I could show him. Perhaps my memoir of my high school years? No, that would not be pleasant for anyone as he presents himself. What about my current book? No, I’m not yet proud of that one. I sighed, but then it clicked. My batch of poems would be perfect for him! Quickly calming myself down, I continued to read:

“As for my day, well, it was the same as any day I supposed. I tended to my garden in the back of the castle and dived into the realm of another book for what felt like centuries. Would you happen to be an avid reader as well? I have some selections I would hope you’d find most endearing.

Also, I once again apologize for not opening up to you quite yet, but I was hoping I could ask you some in return anyway.

How do you like the village? Are the people here treating you well? How are your relatives? Do they like to write as well?

I am most curious to get to know more about you,

A.”

I stopped and reread it. I had a lot to answer should I agree to answer them. Not to mention the last two questions were very loaded. I took a deep breath. Do I trust him? Is it fair for me to open up when he didn’t? Yes, surely it would be because it would be at my own discretion. I suppose if he lives in a castle and doesn’t talk to anyone… he can’t exactly spread the answer around. Alright, that decides it.

I grabbed my pen and started my return letter:

“Dear Mysterious Castle Man,

Yes, that will be my new nickname for you, but rest assured I will continue to try and figure out your name ‘A.’ I would say that studying abroad in Romania has been most pleasant and I am thoroughly enjoying it so far. The people are wonderful and the feeling I get from the village makes me happy, in short. I would love to deliver you some of my writings. You strike me as a man who would enjoy poetry, as I’ve deduced from your style of writing, so I had a collection of my poems you might like. If you don’t, I have other stories as well.

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

As for your questions, I do trust you to keep them a secret, and I respect that you don’t want to explain your life to me. I understand we are still strangers after all. I believe I’ve already answered the first two, so I shall answer the last two.

In short, my relatives are doing well as far as I know, but no, they do not like to write. In fact, they do not support my desire to become a writer. It was part of the reason I came to study abroad: to get away from such negative sources. Don’t get me wrong, I love my family, however I cannot justify staying with someone who is toxic towards my dreams and aspirations, mostly my mother. She is certainly something else.

I will drop off a copy of my poems along with this letter tomorrow morning. Hopefully they do not disappear on you!

Sincerely your acquaintance,

Lucille Monroe.”

I waited for the ink from my fountain pen to dry as I tucked the letter in my drawer with the other one. I loved this. It was like I had a cute little collection of letters. I sighed with content as I hoped my little collection would grow larger as time progressed. Leaning back in my chair, I felt myself nearly fall asleep.

I relaxed like that for a few moments before I willed myself to get up and take care of Luma. After all, it wasn’t her job to scoop her litter box. It was mine. After I had finished, I folded my letter and placed it in an envelope. I printed a copy of my little book of poems from my computer and sat there in my overalls, waiting for it to finish. Once it was done, I punched holes in it and laced the pages together with some yarn. Sure, I could’ve just stapled it, but this felt more fun to me. I placed some washing tape, a cat design, on the envelope connecting it to the poems and made it a little parcel.

I giggled to myself as I got ready for bed. This had been an exciting day. I went on a wonderful date and then got a new letter from my… acquaintance? Friend? I wasn’t sure what to call him yet, but either way it was lovely.

That's when my phone rang. I felt my stomach seize as I looked to answer it. It was from Mom. Taking a deep breath to calm my anxiety, I answered the phone:

“Hi Mom,” I greeted her with a slightly fake cheerfulness to my voice.

“Hello daughter, how have you been?” An older, more annoyed voice responded to me on the other side of the phone.

“It’s been… alright-”

“Just alright? What did we send you over there for?”

“Mom, I paid for this, and you didn’t let me finish. I went on a date today.”

“Oh? Do tell.”

“His name is David. He’s sweet and kind and-”

“Is he a looker?” My mother jokes, something rare from her. I was slightly taken aback before giving her a small laugh.

“Yes, Mom, he most certainly is. We went to a bookstore and he bought me one that I liked.”

“Let me guess, he’s a writer as well?”

“He is, but-”

“Then I wouldn’t waste your time, sweetie. There’s no money in that business unless you’re lucky.” I stopped myself from sighing.

“I understand that, but-”

“I’m sure you do. Maybe go for an engineer? They make enough to raise a family.”

“I thought we talked about this. I’m not ready for a family-”

“But you will be one day, and that’s what’s important. Now, I have to go. Have a good night, dear.”

“...Yes, Mom.” With that, she hung up.

I groaned and put my phone down. I looked at the book David got me and picked it up from my bag. It was about this magical world where a human had to fit in with monsters. It felt like a kids’ book, but it swore it was for adults. Well, I guess I never really hated the Young Adult genre to begin with, so this should be a good read.

I got ready for bed and cozied up under my blankets. Luma slept curled up by my feet as I read through the first few chapters of the book, lost in a daze of the world developing before me.

Soon, I felt myself drifting off to sleep.