Letters

7 0 0
                                        

I was too curious as to what this bulky suitcase had to offer, so I opened it. It had a huge supply of letters that I couldn't wait to read. I guess this was the only way I could hear from the world outside of this door.

One of the several letters, however, caught my attention as if it was vibrant in a sea of dull. It lacked any sense of luminosity. Just a dark red card without an envelope, but it had a gold wax seal on the front that didn't serve much purpose as it was there only for the aesthetics.

I peeled off the seal, stuffed it in my crumb pocket, and proceeded to read the letter.

"Dear Cal,

I know this is a little too late, but I just need you to listen. You were born with depression.

Yeah no shit, Sherlock. Why else would I be stuck in this prison of maniacs?!

And as silly as it sounds, it only lasts a few years. I am so truly sorry to burden you Callestor. It came from me. It's my genes and I completely blame myself. I just wish you knew.

Before I could continue, I scrambled to find a pen and paper. Quite convenient for an "art room" huh?

Do you remember when I would make promises? Well... I need you to make this one promise for me and keep it. Just promise me that you'll keep trying even if you're already on your knees. I know Mom isn't doing that well, but I adore her so much. I love you too much to see you giving up. Please stay Cal. I care so much about you.

I was already in tears. Wiping them ever so often.

Your Father,

Willson Callestor Aphrild."

A soft knock at my door made me jolt up and viciously wipe any remains of my tears.

"What?!"

"Callestor... Ah. Dinner is ready."

"Leave it at the door!"

I stayed up all night reading at least half of the letters.

The food stayed in its tray. Cold and lifeless. Like what I presumed these letters were before I read them.

The Isolated IntrovertDove le storie prendono vita. Scoprilo ora