I recently moved into a newly built house after marrying my husband. It's just the two of us and our Dog, Cope.
After the feelings of excitement settled, I began putting the final touches of decorations on my house. I made myself comfortable and opened a dusty box with all of my old photo albums. I shuffled through the photos while every once in a while smiling at a nice memory. Finally, I decided which photos to hang in the living room and which to not.
Just as I was about to close the box and send it packing for the attic, I noticed a piece of paper sticking-out from under the photo albums. Confused, I grabbed the paper and immediately realized it was one letter of a series of items my grandmother had given me a few years ago. With time on my hands, I decided to read it. I sighed with discontent, given that the letter was written in cursive. Now, I can read "modern" cursive hand-writing; however, some older cursive I just cannot seem to make-out well. My brain slowly scrambled to read the beginning lines:
"Dear Pa, I visited Missouri last week and the visit didn't..."
The letters became warped and I could no longer put my energy into trying to figure out the next word. My eyes jumped to the bottom of the letter only to find that it was written by my great uncle, Paul, stamped with the year 1947.
I reflected on how beautiful and well-kept the letter was and decided it would make for a gorgeous vintage piece of art in my home. So, I put the letter in a golden picture frame and sat it on my fireplace mantle.
Now, I'm no stranger to nightmares, but that night I had a horrific dream. In it, I was looking in the mirror but I did not look like myself. I was a different woman...with long, dark Red hair and piercing blue eyes. I looked miserably unhappy. I kept clawing at the mirror but realized I had no finger nails. I couldn't think to break the mirror and I didn't know why I persistently clawed the mirror.
The next day, I was in a haze. I could not get over the sinking feeling of entrapment that I had in that dream. To clear my mind, I decided to take Cope for a walk. He excitedly rushed out the door as I said "walk" and I hurried after. As soon as I began to feel the fog of my nightmare disappear, I stepped out of the door to find an obvious finger nail setting distinctively on my black door mat.
I screamed with disgust, then immediately feared the connection between this and my dream.
For a month, I continued to have the same dream. What was supposed to be an exciting moment of my life turned sour, quickly, with unexplained smells, and sounds of scratching in the walls.
I need to read that letter.
Submitted June 12, 2019 at 03:45AM by 5thfloorperfume http://bit.ly/2XIgMqe
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