Dear Damien,
It has been nearly half a year since I came across your letters. That beautifully written, fateful first letter marking your quietus had deeply affected me. I initially refused to go back, back to the maple tree where you now lie for eternity.
But you always knew. You knew I would go back. You knew it was my place of refuge, my very own sacrosanctum and that I had to visit it. My visit to your timeless resting place was when I found them. The three letters in your immaculate writing addressed to no one but me. I could have read them all at once, but the writer in me protested meekly. I now promise that I shall write, to every single one of your five perfectly composed letters one by one.
It is true, I was deeply wounded when you had left me on that day. How could you have known, that I was an innocent young girl asking for nothing but the time of the day? I shall forever despise myself for regarding you with suspicion and dislike ever since. To you, my Damien, my prisoner of a silent, soundless world, I shall always be indebted.
My very cosmos was jeopardized by your untimely departure. Little do you know, how much I miss the inconspicuous glances you'd cast my way, every single day. Little do you comprehend, how I had ached for you to one day come up to me and say something, anything. Oh, how hopefully I had watched you mustering up the courage to write to me and how I wished, every day, every moment that you eventually would.
And you did.
People are surely right when they say that everything comes at a price. I had gotten my wish . I got your letter,in fact I got a score of them, all together. A perfect fulfillment for a selfish girl.
I got my wish but I lost you.
Then again, I would correct myself, for I never had you. My dear Damien, how cruel I was, how malevolent, for wishing so. And while I admonish my draconian heart for such a murderous act, I must at the same time, thank you. Thank you, for giving me a friend. A friend who is omnipresent even in death. A friend, who writes to me, posthumously.You have given me yourself, establishing yourself in my haven near the maple tree.
I now always know where to find you.
Sentiently Yours,
Lilith
YOU ARE READING
Posthumously Yours.
Historia CortaA story of passion after purgatory, infatuation after inferno and love, after life. A tale of two souls ; one , sentient and alive, the other inert and otherworldly. " Who knew one could fall in love, being no more? " The telling of why and how Dami...
