Hi guys!
I'm very sorry I disappeared. I'm working on updating I promise. I have almost-completed chapters of Demons and A Little Thing Called Love in my documents. I'm also working on what is going to be a very long Sparia oneshot, that I hope you guys are going to enjoy.
This is a Spanna oneshot that I just wrote on a whim - let me know what you guys think!
I just want to thank all of you again for sticking with me. The truth is, I've been going through a lot lately. I've had some events that have happened in my personal life recently that have left me more depressed than I already am, and my depression makes it hard for me to write. I lose motivation and inspiration quite often, but you guys help motivate me.
I'm going to try my very hardest to write and update more often. Even though I don't know very many of you personally, you all mean a lot and I'm glad you guys enjoy my writing.
:) With all of that being said, onto the story!
September 19th, 2021
Dear Ember,
You have been out of my life for two years now. Two whole years. It's unfathomable. It feels like just the other day you were in my arms. My face was buried in your neck, your hair tickling my cheeks. Your hair smelt of roses and your lips tasted like the sweetest of fruits. I still marvel at the fact that your lips are so soft. I miss you so much. Maybe one day you'll come back to me.
Love,
Frost
Her chipped nails tap against her wooden desk. It's smooth underneath her fingertips Outside, the weather is blistery and cold. It's going to numb her skin and she'll have to make sure she wears an extra-padded coat. Her fingers shake just slightly as she folds the letter and seals it inside the envelope. Her beloved's name is sprawled out in the front with less-than-perfect handwriting but the stamp is placed perfectly in the right upper-hand corner.
Maybe this time her love will write her back.
November 5th, 2021
Dear Day,
Do you remember, baby, when we went ice skating on a frozen pond? You insisted on going, even though I didn't want to. I'm not the best skater, but I would have done anything for you. You held my hand the whole time we were skating and I could only focus on how my skin was burning up, despite the fact it was freezing outside. When you kissed me afterwards, as we sipped hot chocolate, your lips burned mine more than the liquid did. You always had that affect on me, but I but you knew that. You were perceptive that way.
Love,
Night
This time when she stuffs the letter into the envelope, she seals it tightly. She doesn't want anyone at the post office tearing open her letter to her beloved and reading it. She knows that when she goes out this time to mail her letter, people will stare. They'll talk in hushed whispers that still reach her ears and burn in her brain.
"Did you hear about -"
"Such a sad story. Never thought it could happen to someone like her."
"Too bad, they were a cute couple."
Her hands are cold, even though she's wearing gloves and her walk to the post office is fast-paced. Since her love left her, she's only worn old sweats and she doesn't keep up her appearance. She hands over the letter silently, her lips pressed into a thin line. This time she'll write back. She has to. Doesn't she?
October 31st, 2021
Dear Angel,
It's Halloween, but it isn't going to be the same without you. I have written you a letter every single day for the past two years. I don't need to tell you how many letters that is. Our first Halloween together as a couple we snuck into a haunted house, do you remember? We had more fun scaring one another than we did being scared by the attractions. That day you were dressed as a 'sexy police officer' and all I wanted to do was drag you home and put your handcuffs to good use. That Halloween was also the year we started our tradition of watching 'Halloween' at midnight on October 30th. I've watched it every Halloween since you've been gone, but it has lost its meaning. I miss you, won't you come back to me? You taste better than any candy anyway.
Love,
Devil
Kids are dressed in funky, bright and colorful costumes as she makes her way to the mailbox. Unfortunately the post office has already closed, so it'll take a little longer for her letter to reach her beloved. Her hair is thrown into a sloppy bun and she brushes her finger over the stamp of Casper the Friendly Ghost that she lopsidedly stuck on the envelope. Her lips are chapped and she keeps her head down. The voices are louder in her ears and she lets out a quiet sniffle. Maybe her loved one will make an exception for the holiday and write her back.
December 26th, 2021
Dear Sour,
Christmas has passed and again you weren't here to spend it with me. Don't you miss our tradition of making love under the mistletoe? I miss it. I miss you. I miss the way you smiled at me. I miss the hint of mischief in your eyes. I miss us. We were perfect together because we were imperfect. Did you know that I'm wearing the Burberry coat you got me for my eighteenth birthday? If I try hard enough I can still smell your scent on it. You need to come back to me. I know we fight, but all couples fight. Fighting is foreplay for us. I even miss your sour attitude and dry sense of humor. Just please come back to me.
Love,
Sweet
Her nails are almost chewed off. She doesn't remember when she started getting sick, but it was around the time she turned fifteen. It started slowly - a few headaches here and there, sleepless nights. Sometimes she just felt like hurting herself and she didn't remember why. Each day, after she writes her letters and sends them off, she has lunch with her psychiatrist. Her psychiatrist is a heavy woman who tells her things, these made-up stories, that she doesn't want to hear. One of the most infamous ones was how she tortured her beloved and their friends as a mysterious stalker. She knows it's a lie - she hasn't done all of the things people have said she's done. Wouldn't she remember if she had?
As she hands over her next letter, her psychiatrist's voice floats into her mind - "You'd remember if you took your medication." A sharp tug on her hair makes the voice fade away until all she can hear is the murmurs of others around her. Medication is for those who are sick.
January 25th, 2022
Dear Dead,
My doctor says I'm getting better now since I started to take my medication. Memories are falling back to me like dominos. It's strange, what you can be capable of without even realizing it. Aria and Emily don't talk to me that much anymore, and who can blame them? What I did was cruel but is it really that cruel when I barely have recollection of my actions? Ha, would you look at that? I sound like you.
I'm sorry I killed you. It was an accident. It was just an accident. At least that's what the doctors and nurses tell me, and that's why I've been cooped up in this mental hospital. Sometimes I write your name on the walls with my pen. Actually, if you could see it, you'd be surprised. One entire wall is covered with you name:
Spencer Jillian Hastings
I make sure to write it in elegant penmanship, but it's hard when my hands are shaking and my throat is tight. Anyway, this will be the last letter I write to you. My doctor is a bitch and she thinks this needs to stop. She tries to tell me you're never going to write me back, but what does she know? You can do anything. I have to go now. I can hear her coming. Don't worry, S, you don't have to write me back because I have a plan.
Love,
Alive
P.S. Save a seat for me in hell.
Please R&R! I apologize if the spacing was odd. =(
Love you guys!