Short story I did on a prompt I made: Write a short story about a character writting a letter to a dead loved one or ghost.
Enjoy!
"Dear Nikole,
"It has been exactly three weeks, five days and seven hours since your last letter arrived. I'm afraid I have no choice now but to accept the bitter truth. You truly are gone... Yet that will not stop me from writing to you still."
The scribe looked up from the piece of paper, brows furrowed, deep in thought. Somehow, she thought, the loss of Nik hadn't hurt as much as it should. Instead, she felt numb, lost. In her head, moments of their youth replayed over and over and she was not given even a second's rest from the carousel of images.
"The curse has, without a doubt, passed on to me, just as you feared." She closed her eyes and a smiling eight year old Nikole danced on soft, damp grass, barefoot on that early Spring day... blood trailing behind. That was not how that day had been. "Now, I have no choice but to leave this god-forsaken town and live alone for the rest of my days to finish the work that you started, unloved and forgotten... just as you tried to do before me. Unlike you, however, I have no one left to love", that was how she knew Nik was gone, even if she had tried to deny it. The slo pain that creeped into her bones, settling deep in her heart. "And now I realize the full power of our curse. I thought, back then—oh, how foolish I was!—that the pain could certainly be manageable, to an extent." She rubbed the bridge of her nose. In her head, Nik was telling her some strange tale about a bizarre knight who wore red stockings instead of boots. She had had a nightmare and Nik had been trying to cheer her up. She should be laughing in that memory. Instead, she just kept crying, howling and sobbing and screaming.
"It's not about the pain, you told me. I understand now. At least, not the physical pain. The memories. Twisted. Broken. Shadows creeping into our story until you hate yourself, your past, your love... I wish I could have been with you, those last moments. And this time, it's my turn to die alone."
She picked her heavy backpack and a black candle from her desk. "My dearest Nikole, do wait for me, love. It won't be long until we see each other again, I promise." She sealed the letter with her silver signet ring and threw it right in the middle of the glowing embers of the dying hearth.
"Goodbye Nik," she whispered to the silent house. "I hope I'll be able to come back one day... free." She whispered, leaving her empty house behind, the ghost of her past muttering their lies, never stopping, never tiring.
YOU ARE READING
The Lost Dreams of a Broken Poet
Short StoryA collection of poems and short stories I write when I'm bored. Most of the themes are sad, so I hope that, in a hundred years when I'm long dead, students read them as part of their Literature lessons. XD ⚠Major character death in some stories⚠