Dear Wally,
Today I found the strangest thing on my lawn; a rose of crumpled notebook paper, with the notebook-lines dripping blue into the wet white spaces. The letters were mostly bled away, but I spotted four very special letters in the soggy mess of ink:
K-U-K-I.
My name. My name on the notebook paper. I clutched it until my fingers were stained with its deep blue tears.
Days ago, the doctor told me a story.
Your daddy found you on my lawn, the doctor told me. Called the ambulance when he found that your eyes would not open. You were broken and crumpled, said the doctor. Your head was oozing blood. The ground was stained a deadly scarlet. Next to you there were the splintered chunks of a ladder, a hobbled ladder with broken bones.
I have just noticed: nestled on the paper beside my name there sits a beautiful, scribbled ink-heart. A heart drawn just the way that you would draw it: trembling with embarrassed squiggling lines.
Wally, Wally.
Right away I know what had happened.
Wally, Wally, creeping to my window when you thought no one was looking, dragging a spindly ladder under your small arm. Wally, Wally, scaling my wall as if you were Rapunzel's brave little prince. In a sweaty hand you held the notebook paper, the paper with your pretty heart blooming inside. One foot clambering after the other. Hands pulling you up rung after rung. You did not know of the ladder's crooked leg; the leg that would collapse and send you crashing to the ground. Suddenly it was too late. The land twisted beneath you. The earth yawned hard and fast. SLAM and you were shattered. Your ribs were smashed, your limbs tangled. Suddenly your lungs were choked, all the sweet breath torn away. It was then that the coma took you; it gathered you in its arms and carried you away into night.
I'm sorry if you can't read this messy letter. The words are now smeared and blotted as if by an angry rain shower. I cry and I cry and I cry. I don't think that the tears will ever stop.
Wally, Wally, my prince.
Kuki