The Pointless Book

Extract From A Book I'll Never Write #9

Dear Sam

I dare not hope that you will ever read this letter. But I must - I must write to you, the way the cold ripples, the way summer streams must be touched, the way blackbirds must land on scarecrows. I must pour myself out to you

I am here. I am breathing. I am alive. And so my every thought turns to you

The sigh of the sea names only you. The roses wilt and are born again for you. The gulls on the echoes of their lonely cries swoop in curves spelling out your name. The willows hang their heads at your absence

I have accomplished my task. I've spirited myself away before you could see me descend into madness and death. Somehow, I've managed to survive, it is more than I expected. My mind is once again my own

It is in my nature to make light of serious matters, but let me at least in these pages be frank with you. It is not for you to know - not really. I flirt with the fantasy of one day handing this letter to you. But that's the problem  - it is fantasy. I see in my writing that I'll have to walk along the knife-edge between hope and honesty. Not yet can I afford hope - so I shall just be honest

Elanor's birthday is today. New leaves are quickly appearing on the trees. You are tickling Elanor while she laughs upon your knee, or perhaps now you are passing her to Rose, as some neighbour comes to shake your hand. Perhaps Rose is with child again, and he is offering you congratulations. Cake and tea and scones are passed around. I would give anything to hear the sweet laughter of a party again

Do not misunderstand me dear Sam, I'm well-tended; it is clear that I am loved. Even so, new nightmares come. I dreamed I reached out to touch you and you turned to ash before my eyes. There was an apology in your gaze, as though you knew your death was my fault - yet you pitied me anyway. It becomes clear to me that I'll never know how you fared, and somehow I have to live with that 

These dreams that come to me they are from the shadows. I've been invaded Sam. The shadows know every inch of my life. And what if even my greatest hope came true? That you came, that you followed me here, and arrived at last to be in my arms. How could I dare to touch you? The shadows would see and would do everything to tear you away from me, to destroy everything good - you, most of all - you, the best thing of my life

I must not say such things to you, even if you'll never read them. So I shall leave you with this; you saved me Sam. Therefore I swear to you that I will pour forth every last ounce of me, to my very last breath. I will honour what  you gave me. I will find joy, and peace, and all the things you wish for me. I swear to you