The Letter


The Letter

     Four years have passed since the terrible fire.  The jewels which shimmered memorably in the eloquent snow are now gone with their frozen counterparts.  Grace has made a complete recovery and Delilah has a steady job as the town Pharmacist.   Grace was ready to end her educational career and join the ranks of the few women who have decided to walk an individualistic path left only to those incorrigible and stead-fast.  She thinks about her lowly lifestyle years before they rebuilt their new home.  Though they are both encouraged by the nice home and extra money, the two of them are still reminiscent of the preceding days of tucking Grace’s blankets under her infirm legs and tending to a small garden during the spring every year. 
     The changes have changed everyone.  Free thinkers are now conformed to the indigenous frosts of the summer lessons from the religious zealots in the covenant.  The unsuspected abdication and relocation of the honest and loving Ms. Doubtly shook the town to the core (to say the most).  Grace spends most of her days with no one but herself and her mother.  With Ms. Doubtly gone, she has had no one to form a social life with.   Not only have the citizens of the fair town of Lameraeron gotten the chill of humanity and its dark reality, but many of the men have gotten a bit more strange.  Most of them have become violent or very temperamental.  Grace walks with timid admiration to the ground before her.  She hardly looks the crazed laborers in their eyes.  Like hungry jackals, they watch her stride almost every day after her school lessons.
     Main street glows at night with the new street lamps.  Although city workers have to light them every night and douse them in the morning,  everyone enjoys the extra light. 
     Grace is walking down from the Pharmacy to her home at the end of the cobble stone way.  She barely catches her steps because of the hypnotic street before her.  After pulling open the door, Grace sees some mail inside resting on the small rug.  She thought that the silly slip in the door was never used unless the mail lady, Amelia, was delivering.  Lately Amelia was off with her family in the states.
     Grace shuts the door and locks it behind her after picking the letter off of the mat.   “Who is Catherine?” she says quietly.   After opening the letter, her hands reverberate a small jolt and she smiles happily.  Delilah comes walking briskly into the foyer of their small Victorian home while removing an oven mitt and asks, “You closed down the Pharmacy properly, undoubtedly, and who is the letter from?” Grace smiles without answering what she was asked.
     “I closed shop like I always do mother,” she looks to Delilah, “but look who it’s from!”  Grace begins to read while she hands her the envelope:

Dear Delilah and Grace,


     I have been thinking lately about what I would like to tell you two, and what I had accidentally left for Grace.  I would like to say that I am in a great place with many interesting friends.  People are nice, but the men practice a refined chivalry, not common in most urbanized areas.  My new family seems to be very kind! 
     I have left you a small package in a locked box, Grace.  You will find the key in due time.  Until you find the key, keep the box safe and maybe I will remember where I put the key!  While I do so enjoy writing to the two of you, I must get back to the little ones.  They need tending to in many unfortunate ways.

                                                                           Ms. Doubtly

The key should be in the room in which you recovered after the accident… I think.



     Delilah and Grace meet eyes and knows what one another is thinking, almost.  Grace is sure her mother is wanting to run to the pharmacy and check the box, however, she is not.  Delilah is most interested in the new family holding her Ms. Doubtly hostage.  “Lets run to the pharmacy and bust open that box!” Grace begins putting her red coat around her back.  She then reaches for her new boots, which have been placed next to her old, tattered boots.  “We will wait until tomorrow, Grace.”  Delilah folds the letter and envelope before putting it in her pocket, “Come and eat Grace. Where do you think she lives now?” Grace reluctantly joins her mother in the ornate dining room for dinner.

The End

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