Love Letters

They sit in the bottom of a shoebox in a dusty corner of an attic on an unremarkable street in a neighborhood that could be located almost anywhere. Love letters. Old, forgotten love letters. They were written over thirty years ago by two people who barely exist anymore, only one of whom lives in this particular house. He doesn’t remember they’re there, of course, and she, wherever she is, doesn’t remember writing them. She has moved on, married someone else, had kids, just like he did. But the letters remain, fading reminders of a forgotten passion neither one feels anymore.

From Guest Contributor Dan Slaten

Never

She kept the Nevers in a shoebox. Most came from her mother, from childhood, but even now, she could sense her mother preparing more for Christmas. Her step-father gave her a few in the early years, but they faded to nothing as their relationship thickened to indifference.

The one from her father appeared the day after he died. Everyone thought she was too young to remember his return from the war, the nightmares, the gun shot, the funeral. Perhaps she had been, but she still kept the Never, like a scar.

She often wondered why he’d left her only one.

From Guest Contributor EM Eastick

The Letter Opener

As the minutes stretched on, Selena wondered how long she would be abandoned in the dark. She could hear distant shouting and decided to look for a means of escape.

Throwing herself against the door convinced her she'd never be able to barge her way free and instead she began searching through the contents of the closest. Richard had kept a revolver in an old shoebox, but she had gone for that immediately and it was no longer there.

Other than the books and files, there was little that could prove useful. Until she found the letter opener.Part Eleven