Reckless Abandon

Chapter One

   Lucas Pierce threw open the front door and looked around the cold apartment that was occupied by only himself. He pulled the grey scarf from around his neck and threw it in a pile on the cold hardwood. Next went his jacket, landing next to the discarded scarf. He still clutched the pile of letters in his hand as he ventured over to the bar. Scattering them across the counter, he sat down and put his head in his hands. Massaging his temples to try and rid the headache, he sorted through the mail. He looked through the bills and checks carelessly when a different type of envelope caught his eye. Flipping it over, he tore it open and began to read. 

Dear Lucas,

                You are probably opening this letter right now with a confused look drawn upon your face. Your eyebrows are most likely knitted together while your eyes scan over my written words and your fingers trace the outline of the paper as you do with every piece of paper you read. I can see you now, holding my letter about eight inches from your face, the confused look and your slumped posture. Yes, you really do look like that when you are reading. There is nothing wrong with it, of course. It is just something I noticed when I saw you, as weird as it may sound. I am sorry, but I am not going to tell you who I am, or what I am going to do. More like I am going to tell you my story, because you will be the only one who wants to hear it. That is if you actually want to hear it. I hope that you will, and that is why I wrote this letter to you.

                Please expect the next one soon.

                                                                                My dearest affection,

                                                                                                                Jane Doe

                Lucas put the letter down on the nearby table and thought in silence. The letter had come in the mail that day, a simple American Flag stamp and his name written out in neat letters. He had not seen a return address on the letter, but only his name printed clearly in the center of the white envelope. Lucas Pierce.  After reading the cryptic note, he did not know how to feel. He was slightly perturbed that some anonymous person was sending him a mysterious letter with the intention of sending more, but at the same time, there was an overall thrill to the whole situation. It was very Sherlock Holmes in a way: a mysterious letter in the mail, secret sender, what was not exciting about the whole predicament?

 Lucas let out a long sigh before making his way over to the couch and sitting down. He picked up the freshly brewed cup of tea and placed it to his lips, taking a long sip. He looked out the snowy window of his fifth floor apartment over the snow-caked city of Boston. Shutting his eyes for a moment, he breathed in the smell of the freshly cut Christmas tree and the cinnamon pine cones decorating it. The art class he taught in his spare time to younger kids had made them for him as a sign of their affection to their devoted teacher. It still made him smile when he thought of all the children with their big ‘Thank You’ posters and basket full of fragrant pine cones. Brushing away the memory, he picked up his favorite book off the coffee table and flipped it back to where he had left off.

Soon he was enraptured by the tale of the hero saving the day, and the wise words spoken after his triumphant win. The book was Days to Lose by Laurence Walsh, and it was one of those books where the reader could be trapped within its pages for hours with no realization of how much time had passed. The only time Lucas looked up was when he was completely finished with the book. He laid it down on the table, a satisfied grin stretching across his cheeks, revealing two perfect dimples. The sky by then had darkened by several shades of blue and small stars were beginning to peek through the dark clouds. Letting out a yawn, Lucas got up, opened up the door to the patio, and walked outside into the cold air. He stood there, a light sweater protecting him from the light snowfall, and his face rose up to the winter sky. Breathing in the frosty air, he let his arms fall by his sides. After he could not bear the cold air any longer, he went inside and decided it was time to turn in. Turning out the lights, he did just that.