The Happiest Place on Earth
“Come on,” Kyle grinned at me. “Open it!”
I gave the pink envelope a very suspicious look and turned it around. With great care and precision, I proceeded to open the letter until I saw a glossy white paper that was in it. I took it out and two more papers fell into my lap.
A look at Kyle betrayed his anticipation, so I decided not to let him suffer needlessly and picked up the fallen items. My eyes couldn’t believe what I was reading. I gave out a shriek and almost jumped into his lap.
“We’re going to Disneyland!”
The doctor’s stick tapped on the sign that held the letters. “Now, repeat the second to last row.”.
“R, L, P,…” I hesitated. “Q, S…?” I trailed off, hanging my head in defeat.
“It looks like you’ll need glasses, miss,” the doctor said, his otherwise impassive face displaying just a hint of sympathy.
“That’s not so bad,” I quietly said and got dressed into my coat. The doctor nodded and showed me the way out.
Just before I left the building, I stopped at the glasses display. “I’ll come back for you later,” I murmured and went to my car.
Thinking in Colour
When I think of letters and words, it’s often the Braille letters I see in my mind’s eye. I did learn the ordinary print alphabet when I was little and even now, I could write it (very messily). Yet it’s the Braille that my brain uses as a reference point. With my synaesthesia (a type of cross wiring in the brain), all of these letters have their own individual colour as well. I can’t think about words or names without simultaneously perceiving them as shapes and colours. While it doesn’t have any practical uses, it certainly makes life more vibrant.
A Letter from Long Ago
She carefully opened out the paper, aware of just how thin it had gotten along the folds. The ink had deteriorated too, looking brown and faded. She held it up to the light and blinked. It was crammed with words but they didn’t seem to follow on from one another: it looked like barbed wire. Trying to follow the thread of sentences, she soon got lost when new words interposed themselves at a vertical. Paper had been so precious that the letter writer had filled it one way, then given it a quarter turn and written afresh the other way.
Getting a Letter
I get plenty of mails each day. Granted most are spam mails and I delete them as fast as they come in. Unless of course, my mail filter caught them already. As far as physical mail goes, most of those are ads from shops in my area; Slightly more useful than the spam in my virtual mail, but no more exciting. These are closely followed in number by bills; most of these still come as physical mail, but these too fail to be exciting.
The rarest mail I get however; that is exciting: A letter someone wrote just for me.
I sit and watch the pen move across the page. The letters are so uniform, every single one of them seems like it belongs, it's shape creating a sense of order on the page with siblings beside it that are all similar, but still different; They are siblings, not twins. They create words. Sadly the hand leading the pen is not mine. I've never learned to write pretty letters. Sure, a teacher once tried to teach me lettering, but honestly, it never worked. However I have another skill: I cannot write pretty letters, but I can write something else: Runes.
Leave a Reply.
Poetry poetry poetry! This is where submissions get a bit more creative than most, and it's a wonder how many HOLers (particularly the eagles) are filled with fabulous artsyness.