A woman laid in a grand bed, it’s size is probably two times the size of the biggest bed you can even begin to imagine, the room is decorated with only the finest materials and items, all of these expensive things would surely make anyone happy, but the woman who resides in the room is all but happy. Her face is practically the definition of sadness, and despite being in such a huge bed, made with the most expensive and comfortable material, she seems… out of place.
A couple knocks on her door snaps her out of her miserable trance.
“M-miss Angela!” A man's nervous voice called out to her from the other side of the door.
“Yes Hippie?” The woman responds to the voice on the other side of the door, she's now sitting upright on the bed and looking towards the door.
“A-another l-letter came in from the b-boy!” He says struggling to control his stutter as he speaks.
The woman clutches her dress and she smiles in anticipation and excitement, a total 180 compared to her earlier expression and mood.
“Slide it under the door please, Hippie!” The woman yells out in excitement as she springs out of the bed and kips towards the door.
“Y-yes ma’am, w-with p-pleasure!” The man stutters.
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It takes a second and the woman is waiting at the door practically dancing as she waits as she taps her feet, unable to contain her excitement. Finally the letter slipped under the door and the man’s hurried footsteps can be heard walking away from the door, down the long hallway on the other side.
She grabs the letter quickly and before she rips the letter on accident she takes a deep breath to calm herself. Her pale hands gently unfolded the paper and she read the contents of the letter.
Letter 49,
March 4th XX16
To: Angela Swain
I’ve been thinking about you a lot, even now after all these years, and in this time of conflict. I wonder if it is my strange infatuation for you and our friendship, or my stubbornness that makes me write these letters. But I still do, I still plan on sending this letter out into the void that you have presented to me. And I will wonder, “Do you get these?”, “Do you read them?”, and “Do you even care?”. I guess in our time apart I have grown slightly bitter towards the silence, but I know you would not ignore me without good reason. I know our friendship is important to you as it is to me, I just wish I knew the reason why you haven’t written back.
I am sure you know that they are talking about The War ending soon, after 6 years of fighting, and even more years of tension between our countries. That boy I wrote to you about a few months ago, Paul, passed on a few weeks ago, an artillery shell snuffed out his life as if it meant nothing. With things like that happening, still we are being told about an end in sight, it is almost unbelievable. You know?
I am still uninjured though, and this has presented me with a sort of… Guilt? I am not sure, but I feel like people are looking at me with disdain? I guess, with all this death happening around us, I feel like they are angry at me for being uninjured, and I kind of feel the same. Since Paul, I have not really made any more friends, and in that time I have been thinking more about you, and when I do I can feel the cool breeze across my face, I can hear the trees and bushes in the wind, and I notice the blue sky peeking through the smoke. For those brief moments, the screams are drowned out from my ears, and I feel apart from this hell. I feel like I’m back home, with my mom and dad, and with you
How are you? Wherever you are, I cannot know without you telling me, so I am sorry if I ramble along about myself too much, old friend. I still hope to God that you read these, even 10 years since we have spoken, and I hope in 10 years you are still reading them. Even if you are happy and with a family, and I am dead and buried, I hope you can still read and cherish these letters to you, My Beloved Angy.
- From Zee
Tears start to dampen the pages, and a woman lets out a small whimper, trying to stay silent.
“Zee…” The woman shakily says under her breath.