I 'm submtting this to Word Out's creative writting chalenge. It is based on the picture on the cover of this. Please comment and send feedback. Hope you like it!
There it was. If all this were a book this would be the abrupt haunting end after a long luxurious anti climax. There lying in front of me was the postcard. It is not often that one has been thinking about me enough to write and send a letter all the way to my little tin mailbox. At first I had been overwhelmed with joy to find it sitting patiently in my mail...
One bitter winter morning when the smoky clouds from the west had billowed over the skies, casting somewhat ominous shadows. I was just sitting in my chair, calmly sipping my tea, when a noise interrupted the silence. I watched as a quaint red and silver truck drove into the scene and pulled up alongside my front garden. Then, as if driving to the middle of nowhere was routine, a man in uniform emerged from the rusted doors, slid a white envelope from his gloved hand into my box, turned back to his truck and off he went.
A few minutes later, as I was washing my tea cup, I heard a knock at the door. At first this took me by surprise, but when I got to the door a suited man informed me he simply wanted his picture taken. He stated that he'd double the average payment and only wanted a single copy in return. It was a strange request, but my photography profession had hit a bit of a plateau, forcing me to accept any job. He sat in front of the black drapes, I took his photo, he payed and before leaving he handed me my mail. Again a strange jester, but not unapreciated. The weather was a bit dreary today and although I was curious to inspect what I had recieved, I had not been inclined to venture out and retreive it. I bid him fairwell and with a tip of his hat he too was off.
I pried the pristine envelope open with my unused letter opener and a simple postcard slid out. The picture on the cover was printed in sepia and had the words "Sincerely yours Will Thomas". In the end I guess this is the abrupt haunting end after a long luxurious anti climax. For now as I gaze apon the glossy mail art I realize the photo I had just taken of the strange gentleman was identical to the one on my postcard. The only difference being a ghostly man’s face that I had not spied when taking the photo.
