🎶 This is ten percent luck, twenty percent skill
Fifteen percent concentrated power of will
Five percent pleasure, fifty percent pain
And a hundred percent reason to remember the name🎶
***
This book contains all the entries I submitted for writing...
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It's the morning of Christmas Eve. Everyone is excited for the Christmas dinner. Me? I'm rushing down the stairs after I heard the postman's bell, an indication that he dropped a letter in the letterbox.
There it is — a red envelope addressed to me. I sniff the mixture of musk, wood and floral scent of the letter.
Opening it, I'm expecting the usual 'Hey Maya, Merry Christmas' in a neat handwriting without the closing and signature lines.
The thing is I'm not Maya.
My name is Mariah.
The first time I received it, ten years ago, I thought the sender had written the wrong address. I accepted that I am Maya when the letters keep arriving around Christmas for three consecutive years. Since then, it has become the highlight of my Christmas.
My eyes widen when the content isn't what I expected.
Hey Maya,
Miss my greetings? To celebrate our 10th holiday on paper, I'm giving you a present instead.
What the hellsville!
I stopped thinking about who could be the sender. It doesn't matter anymore.
Kidding.
Of course it does.
Is he a stalker?
My real parents? Scratch that. I'm the younger version of my mother and got Dad's black hair and green eyes.
I go for my usual annual pampering session at my favorite salon but someone has paid on my behalf.
Am I in a billionaire romance where the guy pays for his girl's makeover? Whatever, I have somewhere to be.
"Hey Maya! Merry Christmas!"
I snap my head to whoever says those words. Oh, not me but the lady, a few feet from me, who's talking to her friend is Maya. Sighing, I continue walking toward the concert hall.
Attending the charity concert is one of my family's Christmas traditions. I'm in awe seeing the seas of people holding multi-colored glow sticks as I make my way to my reserved seat.
The outstanding performances of the artists makes the crowd roar, jump and sing their hearts out. I thought that's the extent. When the most famous boy band unexpectedly emerges onto the stage, silence falls but in a split second, everyone screams in delight except me who freezes in my seat and forgets how to close my mouth in shock.
The main vocalist is my best male friend since we were five until he was scouted by a talent manager at 15 years old.
When they start singing, someone collects me from the sea of people to usher me into the backstage. I'm nervous and feeling awkward, after all we haven't talked to each other since they left.
"Hey Maya!"
He also said that the first time we met. I thought he forgot about me when he rose into stardom. Grinning widely, he engulfs me in a bone-crushing hug. The mixture of sweat and the scent similar to the letter I received hits my nose.
This time, I am definitely Maya.
"I've missed you. Merry Christmas."
And he's the anonymous letter sender.
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### Author's Notes ### This is another entry from Aim to Engage 2021. There are more prompts I like but we'll see if my brain gives me a good idea.
