I was opening my locker to get my books for my next class, when a coloured piece of paper caught my attention. I put the books that were on my arm on the second shelf of my locker and took out the blue coloured paper. I opened it to find a letter addressed to me. My eyebrows shot up as I started reading the letter:
Hey Maya,
I've heard about your "therapy" sessions with other students and how well it worked out and so my friend told me to just write to you since I can't have you knowing me and my problems.
I really don't know how this works, do I just tell you my problem? And then you give me an answer? Wait, how will you even answer me? Oh god this is such a horrible idea.
I know, I think we should figure out a way to communicate first. Without you knowing who I am of course. Okay so, you know where the bleachers are at? If you go under the stairs and keep going to the right, you see the wall. There's a little brick that comes out, it has blue paint over it, so you don't need to go around pulling every brick. But yeah, leave a note behind the brick saying you are willing to help? If not, I guess you just disregard this letter.
Thanks if you do help :)
The letter had no signature in the end, wow, this person was hell bent on me not knowing who he or she is. I gave it a thought, on whether I should help said person; most of the people come up to me and ask me for advice on the situation. Well I might as well help the person, what's the worst that could happen?
YOU ARE READING
Notes from Flynn Rider | #Wattys2018
Short StoryMaya, the teenage "Aunt Suzy", suddenly starts getting notes in her locker. Usually her "patients" would come up to her and vent, but this mysterious writer found venting to Maya through letters was much more helpful. Oh and he called himself Flynn...