Title: Postmark To My Heart
Description: [closed]
Description: [closed]
summerbreeze - June 13, 2009 02:49 AM (GMT)
((Please read this thread before replying.))
It was evening; the sun was setting over the horizon, as she opened the door to her silent dorm room. Her roommate was already out for the evening, gone to one of the many activities planned for Friday nights. Charlotte wasn’t interested. She was the quiet type, the one who preferred a good book to a night of drunken laughter in the pub, but that didn’t’ mean she didn’t go. She was always the one sitting at the table amongst her friends, smiling casually at every joke while she sipped her soda. She wasn’t much of a drinker, though she did have one or two now and again. She wasn’t as exuberant and attention drawing as her friend Dina, neither was she so introverted like Sam. She walked the fault line between the two. She dropped her bag by her bed. It had felt like it weighed a ton all afternoon, probably because she was so looking forward to this weekend and her trip home. A few moments later she disappeared into the bathroom where she would stay for the next twenty minutes. When she emerged she was fresh. Her hair was stringy as she let it dry naturally from the shampoo she had just given herself. She was dressed in her pyjamas, a pair of light blue cotton drawstring pants and a white cotton camisole, her bare feet moved quietly across the floor until she was once again in front of her desk. She slid onto the cherry wood coloured chair and dove into the upper right-hand drawer for her stationery and a fine-tipped black ballpoint pen.
Her evening was going to be a simple one; curling up in her bed with a good book, the latest Thomas Clancy, and writing the first letter to her pen pal. She was excited. A small smile was playing at her lips from the moment the stationery was in her hand. Charlotte loved meeting new people as well as the classic, though some would say antiquated form of communication, letter writing. With a pen pal, she got the best of both worlds. The paper was simple, a plain white with a faint red rose watermark on the lower right hand side. She began to write, her stroked flittering across the page. She wrote slowly for her, making sure everything was neat and legible. She hated it when she felt people had to decipher what she had written. It only took a little time and everything would be perfectly plain for anyone to understand. She tended to write rather scrappily when she was in a hurry, but had a more refined hand when she took her time. She began:
It was evening; the sun was setting over the horizon, as she opened the door to her silent dorm room. Her roommate was already out for the evening, gone to one of the many activities planned for Friday nights. Charlotte wasn’t interested. She was the quiet type, the one who preferred a good book to a night of drunken laughter in the pub, but that didn’t’ mean she didn’t go. She was always the one sitting at the table amongst her friends, smiling casually at every joke while she sipped her soda. She wasn’t much of a drinker, though she did have one or two now and again. She wasn’t as exuberant and attention drawing as her friend Dina, neither was she so introverted like Sam. She walked the fault line between the two. She dropped her bag by her bed. It had felt like it weighed a ton all afternoon, probably because she was so looking forward to this weekend and her trip home. A few moments later she disappeared into the bathroom where she would stay for the next twenty minutes. When she emerged she was fresh. Her hair was stringy as she let it dry naturally from the shampoo she had just given herself. She was dressed in her pyjamas, a pair of light blue cotton drawstring pants and a white cotton camisole, her bare feet moved quietly across the floor until she was once again in front of her desk. She slid onto the cherry wood coloured chair and dove into the upper right-hand drawer for her stationery and a fine-tipped black ballpoint pen.
Her evening was going to be a simple one; curling up in her bed with a good book, the latest Thomas Clancy, and writing the first letter to her pen pal. She was excited. A small smile was playing at her lips from the moment the stationery was in her hand. Charlotte loved meeting new people as well as the classic, though some would say antiquated form of communication, letter writing. With a pen pal, she got the best of both worlds. The paper was simple, a plain white with a faint red rose watermark on the lower right hand side. She began to write, her stroked flittering across the page. She wrote slowly for her, making sure everything was neat and legible. She hated it when she felt people had to decipher what she had written. It only took a little time and everything would be perfectly plain for anyone to understand. She tended to write rather scrappily when she was in a hurry, but had a more refined hand when she took her time. She began:
| QUOTE |
| Dear friend, I was so pleased to receive your email saying you would like to correspond with me. You will be my first pen pal in some time. I used to letter write before, but school took over much of my time for a while, but now things are quiet again. I’m not sure what you would like to know, but I will start with the basics. Let me introduce myself again. I’m Charlotte Abernathy. I’m twenty-three and I attend King’s College, where I am pursuing a bachelor’s degree in international business, and as unlikely as it may seem to some, I am actually enjoying it though it can be a bit hair-raising at times. I was born in Berkshire, not too far outside of London, though I suppose that would be relative depending on who you spoke to. It never seemed far to me. I moved to London for school when I was twenty, and so am now in my final year of my degree. London is an exciting city. There is so much to do and see and experience. I sometimes feel overwhelmed by it all, but not in a bad way. There is something here for everyone; from the artist to the eclectic, you can find it here. There are the standard tourist attractions, Madam Toussaint’s wax museum and the London Eye, but there is much more to London than that. To really experience it, you need to walk the streets and find the small shops and tucked away coffee houses. I’m not really a coffee drinker, I prefer tea, don’t laugh. I am the middle of four children; there are my eldest brother Paul who is twenty-seven, then there is Daniel, who is twenty-five. I fall in between him and my younger brother James, who is eighteen and then there is Simon who is eleven. James and Simon are both still in Berkshire with my parents, but Paul lives in Spain and James in Australia. They were some of my first visits outside of England on my own. I mentioned I love animals, which is true by the fact that I own four dogs. They aren’t the family dogs really, though I suppose they are now. They were originally mine. I brought them home from the shelter where I used to work on weekends. They were just puppies and their owner wanted to find someone to adopt them. I fell in love with them instantly. They are four boarder collies. Their names are Brownie, Beggar, Boomer and Missy. Here, I can only afford the space for my angelfish Felix and Grace, though they can’t compare to having dogs to run around with, I suppose they are better than nothing. I love to cook. I actually took a professional baking course one summer when I was in secondary school. It was a lot of fun. At home I’m usually the one they come to when someone needs a sweet treat for school or an office function. I don’t mind. There is something about cooking for someone else and knowing they enjoy it, that makes you just feel good. I read a lot. My favourite genres are thrillers, suspense and mysteries. I also like to write, though I don’t usually do it for an audience. I find poetry a relax form of expression and when I feel like letting my imagination go, I might write a short story. My other hobbies are painting, photography and travelling. I’ve been to several different countries so far, but I still have a long list of places I would like to see in the future. I’ve been to Australia, Spain, Barbados, The United States (New York and Miami), Canada (Alberta and Montreal), Scotland, Ireland and Italy. I love seeing new places and experiencing new cultures. I got into letter writing after watching a movie when I was a child. I don’t remember the name, but I remember a woman had died and the entire movie was told via her letters to her husband. I thought it was sweet, that even though she was gone he had something tangible, something in her own words and handwriting, to hold on to and remember her by. After that I started writing letters to friends and family, and as I got older I discovered pen pals, and as they say, the rest is history. I’m sorry if I’ve rambled a bit in this letter, I am never quite sure what to put into the first one. I hope I haven’t bored you silly. I look forward to getting to know you and becoming friends. Yours Sincerely Charlotte |
She smiled as she looked at her completed letter, though she still wondered if she’d rambled a bit. She folded it neatly, the top down to the bottom, the left over onto the right, until it was small enough to fit into one of the many envelopes she had purchased that morning from the school stationery. She sealed it with glue and placed a stamp on the right corner. She left it there, in the middle of her meticulously organised desk, and strolled over to her bed, where she crawled in, stuffing her feet beneath the warm comforter before picking up the book she’d left by her pillow earlier that afternoon, and picking up where she left off. She would pop the letter in the post box in the morning.
felicityjharriman - July 7, 2009 12:21 AM (GMT)
As he made the cross-campus trek from library to dorm hall, Gideon was thoroughly exhausted. Post-paper writing, marathon style, he wanted simply to be on his fourth floor room fast asleep. It was a Tuesday night, but that meant little, since his roommate was a football player, and usually out late on any night of the week, if he wasn't back in the room having far-too-loud sex, whether or not Gideon was present.
Despite his semi-consciousness, Gideon managed to maintain his characteristic sheepdog smile, greeting friends and strangers alike jovially. With a very sleepy spring in his step, he finally made it to his dorm hall, digging in his pocket for his keys as he pulled open the door. A quiet nudging, Gideon's tummy rumbled a little, but he ignored it, his only craving for a nice long nap. But as he passed his dormitory mail room, he glanced down at his keys, particularly the small gold one nearest his thumb, chewing the inside of his cheek thoughtfully.
Curiosity winning, as it most often did with him, he followed his key to its box with his name, G. Black, on the front in sticky label. Sliding his key into the box and turning it, the door swung open easily, the box mostly empty save a couple colorful flyers and a letter from his mom. A little disappointed, Gideon pulled them out, flipping through the flyers and dumping them in the recycling bin, keeping only one advertising a music festival and stuffing it in his back pocket. He was about to close the door when a corner of left over fancy envelope caught his eye, and Gideon swung the door back fully open, snatching it up with deft speed as if someone would try to come and take it.
Sure enough, it was the letter he'd been waiting for. Smothered with stamps and addressed in intentionally neat handwriting, his smile widened as he shut his mailbox, pulling out the key and opening the envelope as he climbed the stairs to his room. It didn't take long to get to the fourth floor, especially with his recent boost of energy due to the arrival of this long-awaited letter. Gideon had, truthfully, almost been thinking that this girl had forgotten all about him- but, he supposed, it took a little while for mail to cross an ocean.
His key wouldn't unlock his door fast enough, and he was thankful that his roommate was out, not that he hadn't been expecting it. If Douglas was to come back, it wouldn't be for several hours and far past dusk, Gid was sure of that. Therefore he shut his door, affirmed as he sat at his desk and carefully tore open the letter, not wanting to injure the address, but wanting to get to the words inside as quickly as possible.
He read her letter so fast the first time that he had to go back over it, carefully absorbing every detail she'd given him so that he could respond accordingly, and not make her think he hadn't read her letter at all. After a second time of reading it, he felt he was surely ready to respond, propping the letter up on his laptop as he pulled out a few sheets of notebook paper and wrote.
'Charlotte' he began, staring at the word before adding a carrot before her name and writing the word 'Dear' above it.
| QUOTE |
| 'Dear Charlotte, I'm sorry that my paper is not as fancy as yours. I do not have the energy to buy fancy paper, and I am not very good at writing in straight lines, though I admire you for your obvious ability to do both. Though, assuming that you'll have me with my sketchy handwriting and non-fancy paper, I am very glad to be your first penpal in a while. You, also, are my first penpal for some years, and I haven't corresponded with anyone via snail mail since I was maybe eleven years old... My name is Gideon Ian Black, and I am no longer eleven years old, but rather twenty-one. I attend the University of North Texas in Denton Texas (Mean Green! or, umm, whatever...) and I am an English Major. It does not seem unlikely to me that you should enjoy being a business major; I'm sure for people like you, (that is to say, people who aren't lazy liberal arts bums like me) would find such a major highly entertaining. But, I suppose I'm getting ahead of myself, because I hardly know you... I was born in Columbus, Ohio when I was zero years old. My family moved to Las Vegas, Nevada (I'm sure you've heard of that one) when I was two, and that's where my little brother William was born when I was four. When I was six (and Will, two) we moved to Plano, Texas, which is a suburb of Dallas, something like Berkshire probably is to London from what you and Google Maps have told me... I am the oldest of five; my other three siblings were born in Plano. I am twenty-one, Will is seventeen, and the youngest two are twins, Violet and Noah, who are fifteen. So I guess that's one thing we have in common- a large number of siblings, that is. I'm a sophomore at my school, which is the second year of four here, and my brother is a senior in high school. He's much smarter than me, so next year he'll be going to the University of Texas, which is in Austin, with an okay scholarship, which is saying a lot because UT doesn't usually give scholarships at all. He's majoring in neuroscience or astrophysics- one of those courses that people who are two smart for their own good do. Hopefully one day, we'll both be famous- though I think curing cancer or building the perfect weapon probably trumps writing the next great American novel. But alas; one day, when you hear about the rich and famous William Black, try to remember his poor older brother, trying to live off his B.A. in English... There's a bit to do in Denton, though certainly not as much as there is to do in London. There's a pretty big music scene here, mostly indie and folk music, which I'm fairly into so that's always fun. UNT is a pretty big music school, and Denton is very largely a college town, making it sort of rampant with twenty-somethings in bands... I myself am not in a band, though I do play the piano and keyboard alright. I was in a band in high school- we were called Captain Ahab and the Lords of the Underworld. We were actually a literary-themed band, with such timeless favorites as 'Jonathon Swift, Eat My Babies' and 'Moby and his Dick'. Yeah, you probably haven't heard of us... but we were pretty big in our groups of friends for a while. Especially when they had some vodka in them... Anyways, enough about alcohol and bad, bad English nerd bands. Unlike you, all of my family still lives in Plano. I do not travel as much as I hope to one day, due to the economic hassle of having four children, and my own sufficient lack of monetary funds. However I did go on a cruise to parts of Mexico when I was younger, which I imagine would be much more fun now that I'm fluent in spanish, but alas... I also have two pets. In tandem with my Englishy nerd ways, I have a great dane named Watson, and an orange mackeral tabby named Sherlock. I know, I know, I'm so cool. I also have two goldfish; their names are Aldous and Huxley, and, like yourself, they made the trip with me to school- probably a poor choice, since they are constantly put in danger by my uber-jock roommate, Douglas, who I love like a brother but who likes to have raunchy fun with his lady friends on every surface of our dorm, including our desk, which often rocks their bowl most uncomfortably. I'm sorry, you probably didn't need to know that... I assume you, as a nice young lady, are blushing right now, so I'm letting you know that that is quite adorable, Miss Charlotte. Unlike yourself I have managed to ramble quite a bit in my letter, much more than I'd originally intended as I've had to tear out three extra sheets of notebook paper. Oh well. I suppose I'll save my hobbies and interests for next letter, though I'm sure you could guess a few of them correctly based on what I've given you in this one. So there's your teaser trailer to keep writing. Next on Penpals: Gideon tells Charlotte his, dun dun dun, HOBBIES. Anyways, right back soon, yeah? I look forward to your letter... Sincerely, Gid P.S. I like your handwriting- it's very English.' |
Rolling his eyes at his own awkwardness, even in written form, Gideon folded the letter in three and stuffed it in an envelope, carefully writing Charlotte's address and putting as many stamps there as he thought he would need, probably overcompensating a bit. As his previous exhaustion made its return, Gideon was forced to finish addressing the envelope as quickly as possible, setting it on his keyboard so he wouldn't forget it the next day and stumbling the two feet to his bed before passing out, fully clothed.
summerbreeze - July 8, 2009 04:39 AM (GMT)
It was a warm day, much warmer than she had expected considering the weather reports, but thankfully Charlotte had dressed somewhat appropriately in a light blue tank top and vintage styled jeans. As she walked back to her door from her evening class, she held in her hand something of great interest to her, the mail. It was odd that average correspondence would spark such enthusiasm in someone, but she was looking for something particular, something she had been looking for every day for the past few days. She had officially written her new pen pal almost a week ago, and ever since it had been sent she had been eager to hear from him. It had been so long since she had done this, written to someone about herself that she was anxious to hear what he had to say. Would he think her silly? Had she babbled too much and made a terrible impression? Did he think her as interesting as a wet blanket with her boring history and interests? She was analyzing and re-analyzing what she had written constantly. It could all end with just one note. What if he didn’t write back? What would she do then? How should she take that?
She was pondering all these things as she sifted through the small collection of variously coloured enveloped, when suddenly she stopped, right outside of her dorm room. Her eyes lit up and a smile appeared on her face and started to grow. It was here! She flipped the envelope over to see the return address, she recognized it immediately. Yes this was it, her pen pal had responded. She wanted to open it immediately, but out in the hall wasn’t the place. She rummaged for her keys in her bag and finally found them. Seconds later she was stepping in the door and closing it behind her.
“Hi Alice!” she said cheerfully as she strode across the room towards her desk, her eagerness outweighing everything else. She barely heard the faint reply from her roommate as she stuck her finger under the upturned corner of the envelope’s seal and began to pry it open. She slid behind her desk as she began to read. She smiled at his greeting and compliments on her writing and stationery. She read in silence, a smile appearing on her face here and there as something amused her. She read the letter in full and then carefully got her stationery set and a pen. She began to write as she re-read each line carefully, making sure she responded adequately. She wrote:
| QUOTE |
| Dear Gideon, Please don’t apologize for the paper your letter is written on, I was happy to receive it. As for your writing, I am sure I don’t know what you’re talking about; it looks perfectly legible to me. I do thank you for the compliments, but they were unnecessary. My handwriting and stationery just prove that I am too particular about things and probably could relax more. I am pleased to be your first penpal in a while as well. I guess we were both fortunate. Let me officially say it is a pleasure to meet you Gideon Black. You were born in Ohio, lived in Las Vegas and then moved to Texas where you now attend university? How interesting. I have been to none of those places. I was always in the same place, we never moved, not once in my entire life. My move to London for school was a bit of a shock and a thrill to tell the truth. I relished the freedom but missed my family. Tell me about what it was like living in those places? As for my degree, I think you chose the more interesting of the two. Business is a lot of numbers and analysing and boring stuff really, but I guess I am a bit of a bore. I enjoy it. I have always had a head for numbers and I adore planning and making budgets. I probably shouldn’t tell you that, you might decided you want a more interesting penpal than me, but I like being honest, especially about myself. I am sure you are not a bum. If you were, you wouldn’t be in university at all I would think. It says something that you’re there. Isn’t Google Maps handy? I use it quite a bit to look up places I would like to visit and plot the fastest and most interesting route there. Maybe one day I will actually get to half the places I would like to. We are both from big families, how great. So I guess you can understand the joys and the headaches of being a member of a gang, though you are the eldest while I am in the middle. No, I don’t suffer from the classic middle child syndrome. I think I was pretty normal actually, but who am I judge. Wow! Your brother sounds like he would put me to shame as well. I am by no means a genius, as he seems to be, but all you can do is try. Congratulations and good luck to him. I beg to differ on your opinion of who will be remembered more. If your books are read by anyone like me, who reads a lot and doesn’t follow the latest weapons of mass destruction, then I can guarantee, you will be the one remembered and not your brother. What genre do you write in? Or don’t you have one as yet? I think creation is beautiful, but it all depends what you create. I don’t consider making guns such a wonderful pursuit, but someone else might. I prefer your choice, books. You can lose yourself and find yourself in a book. Books can shape who you are and who you will become. Books can evoke every emotion under the sun inside of you and once you close the pages, it’s still inside you and for those moments you got to travel to some other place and be someone else. As I said before, I read a lot. You were in a band? Captain Ahab and the Lords of the Underworld? What a name. Who thought of that? That is something. I don’t think I would ever have the courage to perform for anyone. I played violin as a child, but I never got anywhere with it. I have terrible stage fright and always left recitals in tears having not played a note. It was awful, and terribly embarrassing. At least my current interests don’t involve public displays of my talent, or lack thereof. Denton sounds interesting. What’s your favourite thing about it? You went to Mexico? I have always wanted to go there. How was it? I see advertisements for Cancun on television a bit here, it just looks so inviting and warm. You are lucky you got to cruise and see it. I had to fly, which sometimes take forever and can be rather boring. At least on a cruise you had something to do while you were on the move. Maybe you will go back again, once you’ve learned Spanish, and get a new feel for it? Sherlock and Watson, how adorable. I have always been a big fan of the most famous sleuth in history. I hate to say it, but I think I have watched every Sherlock Holmes movie every created, and I am a huge fan of Agatha Christie’s Mrs. Marple and Hercule Poirot. I am too much of a mystery nut. Those are interesting names for your fish. Why did you name them that? They are the easiest and most mobile of pets when coming to share cramped living quarters. My roommate’s name is Alice and she’s a very nice person. She considers herself a mixture of Emo and Gothic, so there is a lot of black on her side of the room and the music she listens to used to make me feel very depressed, to tell the truth, but I have learned to tune it out now. She’s great. We don’t have the problem you seem to, thankfully. I wouldn’t know how to deal with that. I look forward to your next letter Gideon. I hope mine wasn’t terribly boring. I often think my life is too tedious for anyone else but myself to be interested in. if I bore you please tell me and I will try to be more interesting. Can’t wait to find out about your hobbies, you already know some of mine. Till next time. Yours Sincerely Charlotte P.S I like your handwriting too. It has character. |
She smiled, the letter was complete. She looked over her shoulder at Alice, who was watching some sitcom on her portable television and completely oblivious to Charlotte. She turned back to her letter and folded it neatly, and placed it into an envelope. The stationery was the same as before, with the rose watermark. She carefully wrote Gideon’s address on the front and her own on the back, before sticking a stamp on the front with some glue and propping it up against her reading lamp. She would mail it in the morning on her way to brunch with her mother. Her mother tried to pop into London as often as possible to see Charlotte without getting in her way. Luckily for her, Charlotte didn’t mind and she didn’t have classes until the afternoon so she was available.
She rose form her desk and went to the shower, her usual nightly routine followed after that; a snack, some reading, maybe work on her paper that was due in two weeks, and finally bed. She smiled as she walked into the bathroom. She had gotten her letter. She couldn’t wait for the next.