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Irish Rose
Member Patricius
since 2000-04-06
Posts 10263


0 posted 2000-06-25 09:37 PM




The sound of the ferry boats awakened Catherine sometime during the night. Strange calling horns blowing, unlike none she was used to hearing. Startled, she sat up, quickly remembering where she was.
"I can't sleep." she whispered and pulled her legs over the side of the bed to light up a cigarette. "Darn, no smoking in this room." Catherine had vowed to quit, but this was not the time, and she opened the doors to the courtyard and walked out. There, in the white whicker chairs, beneath the moon with only the pale houselights, she smoked.
"Why am I here? What has drawn me to this place and why do I feel it haunting me?"
Throwing her head back, feet rested on the table in front of her, she sighed.
"Letters." in her mind, the one thing she had been burdened with was an undeniable desire to write. Not simply poetry, but beautiful letters, but why? To whom?
These questions seemed to be floating around inside her brain, taunting her. "I must know, I must figure out this yearning, this almost driven passion to let myself be known, and yet why?"

Three cigarettes later, her head dizzy, she chided herself for her weakness. "Damn, it feels good to smoke when I please, kick around in nothing more than this robe, and wail at the moon if I like!"

Back inside the room, she turned on the light from the night table and began to study the features of this wonderful setting she found herself in. The fireplace graced on both sides with books and yet...wait. She noticed drawers with handles but at first glance they appeared to be faux.
"No, wait, here" she pulled one forward and at first it did not want to open. Then it did, after she pulled relentlessly.
"I've broken this" Catherine thought.
No, instead she had dislodged something old, something buried inside the wood, far back.

Her hand shyly reached in. "Oh, my God, what if there are rats in here, of worse yet, bones?"

"Catherine, this is stupid, you are letting your imagination run amuck." she laughed.

Her hand reached back and she felt the touch of ribbons.
Then the pouch beneath them.
Pulling her hand to herself, her eyes glowed, her breath stopped.

Letters. Tons of them, well at least hundreds. Beautiful letters tied in the most faded ribbons, tightly.

Catherine reached for another pack of cigarettes and her lighter, a cold pepsi,  and headed out to the courtyard.

Holding the letters on her lap,
she paused.

"What in the world have I unearthed? These are not messages from bottles, these are still intact, old, faded but intact.
I must read them."

Fear swept over her. She felt suddenly violating a sacred trust someone had placed in another.

The first letter she tugged from the embrace of ribbons simply addressed itself "To Samuel, from Emma."

The date of the letter she chose to read was 1825.

Catherine knew she would not sleep this first night, and yet she was screaming to tell someone.

Here, alone, she began to realize why she was here and what it all meant. To be "Catherine" and who "Emma" was and still is.

to be continued < !signature-->

You left me, sweet, two legacies,-
a legacy of love
A Heavenly Father would content,
Had He the offer of;
Emily Dickinson


[This message has been edited by Irish Rose (edited 06-25-2000).]

© Copyright 2000 Kathleen - All Rights Reserved
JamesMichael
Member Empyrean
since 1999-11-16
Posts 33336
Kapolei, Hawaii, USA
1 posted 2000-06-27 07:12 AM


Irish I read part 1 and part 2 and my favorite is part 2...very interesting...to be continued...we shall see...James
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