The letter

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic


The following story is about an innocent man arrested and put in prison. He stayed there many years and finally one day he decided to write a letter to his brother Malik. Absolutely he suffered and
would explain the pain lived in prison. His heart is beating. He knows who his persecutor is.

Submitted: October 22, 2017

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Submitted: October 22, 2017

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The letter The following story is about an innocent man arrested and put in prison. He stayed there many years and finally one day he decided to write a letter to his brother Malik. Absolutely he suffered and would explain the pain lived in prison. His heart is beating. He knows who his persecutor is.

Eight years, it’s already done eight, eight long years that nothing has changed for me. The brief nuances that I could enumerate now are simply the acquirements of my spirit, and my new vision of life. My will, my passion and my desire to review your face are grown with time. However like I think, that level of vivacity to search, to dig or even to catch the past has never scrambled me so strong. Two years after your leaving, your travel along Island of Sainthood, my sort has been decided. I think you know. Simply, the rights currents of rumour are these I write on the paper. The world has no truth. Its search is retaliating, and its mind is turned to imaginary. Malik my brother, the irrevocable sentence pronounced to the issue of trial, has brought eight of us to death. And if you are asking to yourself how, so I’m pleased to answer. About the warrantable legal way admitted to execute that order extracted from penal texts, not from hearts it seems, the hanging. A sudden inscription in justice’s articles never revealed but lived in secret by minority; a cruel hanging as penitence without prayer, without piety and no mercy. Now both, we are still so few in the number of five if the name is put out to the list: three were released on the base of medical contract. They needed intense health care. Two other were transferred toward the South of country. I ignore all about them. It is just in my dreams that I get freedom, the choice of taking decisions. Here, every morning, the prisoner registered 408-002 and the rest of detainees are counted by the snippet of fingers. Now, it is an acquired routine of circumstances which lets a global different view of sky everyday at six past half. The wild gooses sing melodies and then the sound turns to our ears. The very good, beautiful and faultless pals they are. The sonorities are comforting to hear in common silence. At these exact moments, we find again unanimous adhesion and the hope to get liberty one day. We feel an extreme splash like if our bodies make apart to the rest of senses, an unknown state for an ordinary man. Outside jail, the achievements and performances are required to raise, absolutely that to have a voice on media around the planet. Unfortunately, never it’s enough. We met birds and turned them in friendship. Many in the group even wonder, if the spirit of an old illustrious inmate that prison stops his skyline for all life lives the gooses. We feed them frequently with our leftovers. The guards let us do any experience of socializing even with birds. Sometimes malignancy takes first on statutory methods but they prove to same redemption. I understand Malik, any man has empathy. At anytime, make it express is so remarkable for ourselves. It completes our real nature of being human, even if anyway society develops naturally the return at source on each progress. Many arrested criminal men, thieves, killers are all become sainted. I know some who condemned for life have written to victims or to their families. They asked for apologies and recognized peace. They tell me that their lives have taken a new and wonderful direction. Things are clearer, pure like water in that encampment surrounded by walls. No one extols violence here. Those who were have paid and got weakness. We gather as possible we can. Our favourite pastime: cards, cube and funny stories which make the atmosphere burnt. Sometimes I cry, precisely when the past moves in reality and then it turns my mind confused. I was more and more attached to football souvenirs, our old inconsiderate debates and above of all this I was thinking about girls that we ran after. The past struggles for frivolousness that we made very long time ago on astrologic predictions, was also coming on. About that Elise-Sorelle came to visit me. She is fiancé and promised to come again. Nothing since, it has been so long. I understand her. I understand the message. Now and then, the silence covers more words than any speech. The day she came, her look on me at the last time, when we said good bye each other, has hurt me. She was worried for me but I smiled to hide my emotion. I really beamed that all conflicts, we had had before, were senselessness. She gave me a dish that she had carried. I enjoyed the meal with two other inmates. It’s now our strongest principle, the share and unity, our single force. This morning, the oldest prisoner of centre gets death after twenty eight years of confinement. We rendered to him the last deserving honours as better we can in the stress of the middle. The death or the freeing of a captive friend is often perceived like sadness or oppositely like happiness. I do not know anymore what the right sense is between the two in normal life with appeasement. The emptiness found transforms negatively. It leads to readapt like a new comer. When I was it so raw, I spent time by writing, by sending letters to the administration of the penitentiary. I have been never responded. The subaltern office worker who posted my demands was himself condemned for twelve years of servitude. He told me his story, the reason of coming in. His functions as unionist have one day involved making an irremediable decision to demonstrate for the paying of salaries, and then he was arrested. Finally today with his help, I have been authorized to communicate with people of outside. It’s a beautiful day and there is another reason delighting me. I keep it for the end. Do not skip my phrases or any word in the passion to discover rapidly. Keep on reading and pay attention seriously. My voice is up to you. In reality, the good piece of news is the association of each part of this content. The brilliance of all connected words, I think, must stagger. Do not imply any idea behind my sayings. The confusion in the spirit and the trouble in the soul entertain. Like you know it, I thought to you. My first letter is addressed to your name. So much to say, so much to write...I have estimated that the daytime will not suffice for achieving. The librarian has even stacked an oar of papers on my table. I’m thankful about his gesture. But now, with anguish, with expansion of mind and mainly weariness on the hand, I have nothing significant to claim. I lost my reference but let’s sum up. The truth, you know that. I was misinformed. Absolutely, I know that you’ll decide to be hidden behind incertitude with the goal to let me in the doubt. Your tactics and methods are clearly unveiled. These entire dressed plan in order to bounce and finally to put breathless your opponents are not anymore in the margin of rivalry. The emotion read in the face of observers while looking victims up confirms perfection. People say that your strategies of submission destroy in two steps. The first is cruel; it forges instability like sickness, imprisonment and very poor time. The second refers to your ability to escape from justice and to win on every bets. Notice this Malik; no man can live up one over one billion of the time necessary to see our rests and names disappear forever in memories. Formerly, you have taught me to discredit all bad behaviours resulting to people. Nowadays that teaching is my directive. Since so long it’s what I always do. Rumours sprung in prison’s corridors, many versions were also pronounced. Please remind yourself. Remind yourself about anytime your tongue cannot easily let a phrase out. Very painful was your look to catch my eyes. These interrupted phrases, these turbulent reflections were parts of the truth you assumed to put in silence. I know that you didn’t want to waste your time and above of all your life. Success coming on by poker was your key to get deliverance like you trusted. I hope you have changed and your sleep has come back. But if your repose has never been disturbed by all your sins, thus find a reason to repent. The headmaster of prison has showed me a note with your handwriting. It doesn’t represent a proof of accusation, not directly I mean, but the receipt is one. The Eldorado was on your feet. Even if the price to get on was my life, you were ready to make a deal. Your unique chance it seemed. All ridiculous pieces of information that you signed on my name have led me to hell. It was nothing for you, but so much to build a scenario in a jungle of men, a society rules by surviving. God has no responsibility in my pain, he is innocent. It was you and some other. Spiritually intoxicated by jealousy, lost in disarray, full of resentments, foxy and weakened to live in margin of any attention...all that make a conform profile for a job as spy. My creations were shined like a light, me an ordinary man. Great paradox in our community it seemed, exactly like you thought. What’s so simple? Just testify and in exchange a visa or a damned bundle of money to escape poverty. The door keeper of international campus has been arrested, accused for corruption and murder. He has voluntary integrated our guild and has confessed his faults. He told me about your both vicious actions and complicity. My judgment has no effect, no sanction so you can laugh on me leisurely. I’m not so impartial; I know your problems. I know that you served and were used like a pawn or a rusty needle which comes on memory especially when the time makes emergency. Your naivety overtopped your brainpower because of your paying attention to their lies. And also because you trusted them, meditating to that promised social emancipation. You expressed regrets. He told me disgracefully about it. By his embarrassment, I can’t disbelieve your sincerity. Oh! Brother! Farther of murals, things rule badly outside. The new comers are our best informers. By the bridge of sound to voice, I have been apprised of the neutralization of hundred soldiers without trial. An equivocal situation in view of cold war, the fight of soviets and westerns, let me say. The Humanitarian Sheet of Free Exchange and Cooperation (SEFCH), our precious worldwide institute composed of many non-governmental organizations, has got a new technical advisor. The ex executive secretary, particular administrator of the ecologic college qualified as providential man, who has succeeded me before my committal, is now one of us. Nothing surprising in all of this, even the contrary would surprise. He is seated down near to me and he knows what my letter is about. Here, anyone changes on each bit of time. It’s a new life without competition, without emblem of success or failure. That recital could appear inadequate to your rules of life and to your eternal view on people. That is yours but about me many things are to say. During these eight last years, my life has taken a rough path in pain. The schematic involves several physical and mental disabilities: dizziness, embolism, sinusitis, infarction, skin disease, myopia, instability of memory, painful vertebras, and to end I call to your intuition. With that suffering, I was praying, I was asking the sky for justice. Justice or revenge no difference, any is accepted. The devil himself should be my ally if his power had satisfied my vow on the real time. I don’t hate you; I do not hate you anymore. Malik! Dictatorship has dropped herself off. Its maturity has called its end. The new decree adopted by parliament offers liberty to many political detainees such as me. So tonight, I will not sleep in cell. I go back home. I go to review those rare persons who still love me. Life describes several steps which follow and converge to build the future. So, I cannot predict. I received many gifts from my inmates. They were so happy for my discharge. I’m writing this letter around a hundred of prisoners decided to dispatch their writings to wives and families. Mine will not be sent. It stays here in the box letter of Correctional Centre for Criminality. I do not need to tell why. Nevertheless, it is opportune you understand peacefully. I hope your spirit will not set on fire by long and poor cogitations. The risk is to fall in paranoia. That is the reason I prefer to be clear with my volition to help. So, let’s make it short. Ok! Let’s adopt a certain simplicity which would give you a guarantee to understand. Your adventures should surely drag you here in the penitentiary. I have received a piece of news about you from new people judged and put in cells. I’m not the one as your victim. Many persons were taken in your cursed nets; then have been paralyzed by your force. The process called Unity and Reconciliation does not exclude. Read and reread this paper. The date on the envelope should not astonish; the address no more. Meet me in the writings, come back to you, then I am sure you will discover a real unknown part of yourself. The watches mislead on the notion of time. We cannot have a control on time, quantify or even estimate it. That’s why all souvenirs live in the present; meanwhile in parallel magnetism phenomena perpetuates a mechanical cycle in all clockwork. You will need time. Sorry for my mistake, I correct myself. You should know and understand astral variation. You should make a count of days and nights to adapt yourself in the conditions of jail. I think well after, my message will better be received. The letter is just a fine part of these eight last years to help our souls interacting. The verity, my dear, could not even be denying in that case. Our inopportune meeting, hazardous or predestined, I avow, a veritable oneself discovery like in the grace period of youth. So, let’s celebrate fraternity as pledge of prosperity or fanatic ritual of purification.

Sincerely yours Thomas Dafrime, the salutary melon


© Copyright 2018 Marjus Yandza. All rights reserved.

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