Love Letters and Thirst Tonics (Moonvale Matches Book 1)

5. Fiella

Ileaned closer, squinting through my slightly blurring vision to read the message atop the stone box.

For you, sweet, lonely soul. Drop your thoughts into the box and find companionship.

I stared at the sign for a long moment, trying to determine if the message was actually meant for me. I was pretty lonely, after all. And sweet.

I had already hit rock bottom and lost everything that I cared about–I had nothing left to lose.

I didn’t make a habit of ignoring signs from the fates. If this message was literally going to knock me onto my ass, I’d better listen to it.

“Huh. Well alright fates, if you say so!”

I made my way home, shivering but without any more incidents.

Gods, my cottage was such a mess! I wasn’t always a messy folk, but I tended to get sidetracked easily. I lit a lantern and went on a search mission. I didn’t have the silvers to pay for fancy enchanted lighting anymore, so I made the old-fashioned fire lanterns work.

I was pretty sure I didn’t have any envelopes, and I hadn’t seen my nice parchment in ages, but I had to have some sort of paper somewhere.

Ah ha! There it was. That’ll do.

The paper had seen better days, but a few wrinkles and splits were no big deal.

I cleared a space on the table, shoving aside everything in my way, and pried open my old jar of ink.

Then I started writing, as fast as my drunken mind would allow. My hand only wobbled a little bit, and I only spilled the ink twice.

Dear Mysterious Entity in the Mailbox,

Hello, I answered! I’m half convinced that this letter will just rot away in the mailbox, but just in case someone finds it, I sincerely hope you enjoy this glimpse at my thoughts, because I am not in a position to mess with the fates.

It’s your lucky day I guess!!! But not mine.

Are you a ghost? Are you a spirit? Are you a folk? I simply must know. I am just a regular ‘ol folk, but I would make a great ghost. I would love to haunt people. I bet nothing bad happens to ghosts, except for the dying part that makes you a ghost… I wonder if ghosts can just be born as ghosts. I need to ask someone about that.

Anyways. Hey ghost/spirit/folk, have you ever felt like screaming into the void until your voice gives out? That’s how I’m feeling right now. I have had an absolutely TERRIBLE day. The worst day I have ever had. Or at least the second worst day. It’s hard to rank shitty days, you know.

I’m worried that my life might be ruined. I know what you’re thinking, “This person is so whiny and dramatic!” well, whoever you are, you might be right, but you must understand. My entire life has been destroyed today, and I don’t know what I’m going to do.

Thank you for reading, mysterious mailbox spirit. (if you are actually reading and this letter isn’t just going into the abyss…)

P.S. Zero alcohol went into the writing of this letter, by the way. None. Not a drop. Not even a few sips.

P.P.S. I wonder if anyone is actually going to read this.

Spilled ink seeped over the corner of the messy paper, but I didn’t have the patience to fix it. I brushed away what I could, tidying up with a stray cloth.

Proud of myself for so eloquently expressing my thoughts, I bundled up in my cloak, slipped back outside, and scampered over to the mailbox–watching my feet carefully this time so I would stay upright.

Gods, those ciders packed a punch. I dropped the letter in the box, made my way home, and then got myself into my bed as quickly as possible. My swirling thoughts were darkening around the edges.

Mind full of mailboxes, mysteries, and magical spirits, I slipped off into a dreamless sleep.