Dear Writer, - The Fooo Conspiracy (Felix Sandman)

12: Revitalize

-Linnea-

"How many notes are you going to leave?"

"I don't know, Four maybe?"

Mrs. Malson stands behind the register sipping her whiskey, as usual.

"That sounds exhausting." She finishes the rest of her drink cranking her neck back a ways. "If you want one I won't tell Bea." She hands me a glass and begins pouring me some whiskey.

"No thanks." I push the glass towards her. She wasn't exactly a traditional lady but she put in effort which counted a lot. I sigh.

I still don't know anything about Writer. He remains a mysterious blank face within my memories. A great soldier, a knight in shining armour; without a face; scribbled out maybe.

"Are you going to meet him ever?"

"Maybe, he won't like me though I am sure if I do meet him it'll screw up whatever chemistry we have now."

"You can't be so sure of that!" Mrs. Malson leans back. I do not answer her.

She waits a moment before reaching into her register pulling out some money.

"Here." she places a lump some of cash in my hands.

"What is this for?"

"Go! get out of here, get your hair done whatever you want." she winks at me and leaves into the back room of her shop before I can refuse.

I love this woman. I smile and hop off the stool. Ready to leave out the door.

Across the street there is a hair parlor where I can get a trim to the ends of my hair.

"Hello hun, what can I do for you?" A woman stands at the front of the shop welcoming me. She wears a dark pink dress with yellow accents.

"Whatever this will buy." I place my hand into my pocket and dig out a handful of money and place it on the table.

She smiles and waves me into a seat.

"So what were you looking for today?" She pulls out my long dull brown hair free from my elastic.

Do something crazy I think to myself.

"Whatever you think looks good." I sigh, having never done my hair before this was quite nerve racking.

*.*.*.*

Hours have passed, I have had three people work on my head throwing tin foil all over my head and scissors and trimmers of all kinds.

The woman returns to my side, for the past three hours I have has people tugging on my hair and face trimming and dying and waxing; it was finally over.

"Are you ready to see your new makeover?" She smiles at me. Even the thought of a makeover is beyond me but I nod my head. She spins my chair around so I am facing the mirror.

A completely new person stares back at me. My dull brown hair has now been trimmed just below my breasts and dyed a light blond. This make my eyes look piercing blue and my skin carry a tanned glow. My eyebrows have been shaped and filled in with a light layer of makeup. Along with my eyelashes extended and curled. I am speechless; this is me?

"Do you like it?" The lady removes a black sheet protecting my clothing and I can't help but burst into tears and throw a hug over her shoulders.

"I love it!" For the first time in a long time I smile at myself in the mirror, and I like what I see.

I leave the parlor and return back to Mrs. Malson.

"You like?" I strike a pose.

She smiles so wide the wrinkles create shadows on her cheeks.

"You are like the daughter I never had." she hugs me around the shoulder before I set out to follow my heart.

Into the forest.

I run at the highest pace I am able to. I must say my hair feels lighter as the shorter curls wave behind my head like an open flame or a waving flag.

I find the back side of the garage and run my hands along it until I find a piece of wood I can hoist my body up with.

The origami bird I placed yesterday is gone. As I hoped.

Replacing it was a fortune teller along with a note that said 'PLAY ME!'

How creative. I think to myself, picking up the folded paper.

The windows looking over the forest are broken and have been since before I found the garage last year.

The cold creeps through the attic and runs over the floor and out the window on the opposite side.

I shudder from the cool wind surely winter is approaching. I look to my fingers again and see that they are empty.

"The note!?" I shout. My stomach drops. This is only way I can speak to Writer!

I jump off the edge of the window landing rather harshly on a pile of plywood.

I lay in pain, my legs absorbed too much shock from the ground; but luckily the note had just fallen out the window and fell to the ground.

I sit up and view the numbers labelled.

CHOOSE A NUMBER

My choices are two, four, six, or eight.

What are the numbers supposed to mean? I pick four.

CHOOSE A COLOUR

My choices are red, blue, green, and purple.

Of course my choice was green.

I unravel the paper to read the small corner of paper, his words are scribbled so small I can barely read; however knowing they are from him excite me.

I read; ME!

... Is this a joke? I decide to try again. This time I choose six and red.

I read; FOR!

this riddle is hard to solve. I close the fortune teller and try again. Eight and blue

I read; WORDS!

Then it hits me, this is all a riddle. I fold the paper once again and open it to my last two choices. Two and purple.

I read; OPEN!

Open me for words--makes sense.

I sit cross-legged with my back against the garage.

Dear Flyer,

I'm glad you can open up to me, or I hope you feel like you can. You can trust me I promise to listen to you and never judge you. I am sorry your parents aren't around; I have been lucky to have two parents who love me. Unfortunately I cannot make pretty birds with paper; I had to look up a video to make this fortune teller. HOWEVER, your game is intriguing. Behind the ocean and a bright smile you will see my next clue. xo

I bring the paper close to my heart, Writer had this paper within his fingers only hours earlier.

I lean back and breathe deep to absorb the smell of nature. I feel a tingle brew from my stomach and a cold shock to the tip of my nose. Looking up towards the sky; little graceful pillows of white began to fall all around me.

Finally the first snow fall of the year!