collection of snowflakes (entries for snowflakes competition)

the snowflake of fairytales

 

 Letters from Neverland

A twenty year old man named Jared Smith walked into his new house, enjoying the feeling of having his new house. A place all for himself. A place, where he had lived and three days, but only had spent the night because if he wasn't on school, he was working and if he wasn't working his mother would insist that he would visit his childhood home- She was having troubles to let her second youngest son go-, but this time he had refused because if he  would go every night to his old home, he never would be able to stand on his own feet  and that was the reason why he had left. 

He admitted that his house was a mess, but that was because he hadn't unpacked all his things and was lazy. He didn't really had the time for it, but he would have time in the weekend. So then he would unpack the rest, maybe he would even call some of his mates to help. He probably had to bribe them that the next time that they would have a night out, he would pay the drinks, but in the end they would

He stepped inside the house, but then he saw a letter on the doormat. He frowned at the sight of it. He didn't know from who it was. All his friends wouldn't bother to right him a letter, but would send him a text message instead, his family wouldn't either because he has seen them yesterday, so whatever they had to say to him would have been said then and from school he only got emails. Maybe the letter was for the previous owners, the two most important people of London with their  three children- or so he had been told by the estate agent. He picked the letter up and saw that it was addressed to some guy named Robin, which made him frown because he was sure that the guy's name was George and none of his children’s name was Robin. 

Jared went to the kitchen to fetch himself a drink as he decided that it wouldn't hurt anyone to read the letter. Maybe he could find out for who the letter was written and send it to him or her. He went to the living room and sat down on the couch. Jared opened the letter and started reading the letter.

Dear Robin,

My name is Marisabel Wendy Davies- but my friends call me Mari-. I'm eighteen year old and obviously a girl and before your ask, yes my last name is the same as that of the well-known Davies brothers, J.M Barrie’s inspiration for Peter Pan You must wonder why I call you Robin, so I will explain it to you. I'm calling you Robin because I don't know your name and I will probably never know your name. And because I don't know if you're a boy or a girl and I don't want to feel  insulted because I gave you a name of the wrong gender  so I just will settle for Robin because there are boys and  girls with the name Robin. And maybe because I loved the legend of Robin Hood.

I wonder, dear Robin, what kind of person you are. Are you a family man/woman, happily married to the person you love- maybe you're high school sweetheart- and together you have three children and moved to this house because your old house was too small and because there's another child on the way. Or maybe you're an old man/woman, maybe a widow and you moved to this house because your old house, was the old house you owned with your late partner and the house just had too many memories of the one you loved or you're just someone in his/her late teens or early twenties that just had moved out of his/her childhood home because he/she  wanted to have freedom.  

But one thing I know for sure you must be thinking why would a girl, that you don't know, is a stranger to you and not care about has written this letter to you, that you're holding in your hands and how she does know the address of the house you just have bought of a family that had moved out of it. I know it because the house, you're now living in, is the house that I used to call my home. I was living there with my parents and two younger brothers. The house were you're now walking in, was the house where I learned to walk. The house where you're talking to your friends and family, is the house where I said my first word. The house you call your home is the house I used to call it my home.