A Letter From Helen

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
Helen begins to feel she is cut off from everyone else in the world when she is sent off to a small, privately-run nursing academy in an ancient, superstitious little country town and fears that she won't be able to be herself around most people as she goes through life.

Submitted: August 24, 2013

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Submitted: August 24, 2013

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Dear James,


 

I said I would write every week, so here I am, writing. Hello. I suppose I should wish everyone back home good health, comment on the excellent weather (though it’s done nothing but rain the past few days) wish you were here, and all the other redundant things people usually say in letters. One should only write when one has something to say, not just for the sake of writing. Otherwise, it comes out a horrible mess.


 

I, however, do have something to say. I honestly do wish you were here, James, because I’m scared. This place is remarkably old; not just the house, but the whole town. Automobiles are rarely seen and the people are so quiet. That’s not what scares me, though.


 

There are legends in this place. Mad stories about tall, dark specters who bring death in their wake among other things. And the really mad thing is, I think sometimes I can see them. Out of the corner of my eye on cold, misty evenings when no one else is around, there seem to be tall, dark figures walking about off to do who-knows-what. But that’s not what scares me either.


 

I suppose I’ve been avoiding it (like you know I do when there’s something about myself or something I’ve done that I do not feel like sharing) but it just seems such a strange thing to fear when the whole town talks in whispers of ghosts and goblins and everything seems to be falling apart. I suppose I’m scared of being alone. Silly, I know, but, as I just said, everyone talks and wanders around going about their business and here I am, trying to get used to it all with no one. These people are all superstitious old busybodies I avoid talking to if I can and the other girls at the school all take the bus at the end of the day off to the bigger, nicer town a few miles off without so much as a word to me. I’m alone, James, and the worst part is, I feel alone. I feel like I am still struggling to walk while everybody else dashes about, talking nonsense, not thinking, and here I am, my head rattling with endless thoughts.


 

Hope to see you soon.


 

Love,


 

Your Sister,

Helen


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