The Haunted Wordsmith has a story tag which she starts and then passes the baton. You can continue it to where you want! There are no set number of days/ blogs it must run so anyone can choose to finish it or extend it. This is her start to the story and the following progress so far:
David had been a postal clerk long enough to know not to think too much about what people receive in the mail. Under normal circumstances he followed that unwritten rule, but Number 604 and their numerous mysterious letters, parcels, and the monthly large case wrapped in plain brown wrap fed his curiosity. All the mail ever delivered to Number 604 was stamped with vintage stamps, wax seals, and no return address. If that wasn’t enough, David swore that many of them were addressed with quill and ink or other calligraphy pens.
It was another sweltering day in the city, and as David made his rounds, the heavy post bag kept slipping off his shoulder and hitting the ground. He was very happy to see his last stop because that meant the bag would be empty for the mile walk bag to the postal truck.
David slipped the mail into their proper slots while singing to himself. He stopped mid-song when he turned over a old battered envelope with vintage stamps and found the wax seal had broken after being dropped so many times. With a quick glance around to make sure he was alone in the building’s lobby, his fingers teased the envelope flat.
Should he or shouldn’t he? Did he dare risk losing his job because he was curious about the mysterious owner of Number 604? What on Earth could have been in all those letters and packages?
Job be damned, his fingers slipped under the envelope’s lip and opened the envelope revealing …
The single sheet of paper, so thin, like parchment, seemed to jump into his hand. He looked over the spidery handwriting and realized that no one ever wrote like this today.
My Dearest David;
It has taken so long for you to succumb to your curiosity. During this time I have waited and waited.
I realize that this is confusing to you, but know my love, I have been waiting throughout the cycles of time for you. Every life you have lead moved you further and further away from our love. Now though I sense that you are ready to find me.
I shall wait upon the cliff where first we met.
Please my darling, don’t make me wait.
David stared at the words written and began to feel. Warmth. Desire. Memories teasing, just out of reach. He began to fold the letter up, realizing that he must deliver it. However did he have to? It was actually addressed to him, even if the address was to Number 604.
David did not realize that he was being watched. That through the peephole of Number 604 a brilliant green eye gazed upon him. Crimson lips, wet with saliva, parted and a whispered breath whistled. She hoped that he would succumb, he would take the bait. For she had waited a long time to…….
…see him fall into her trap. As she looked at him, she allowed herself to wonder at her self restraint. She had hated him and planned her revenge for so long and the waiting had taken its toll.
She was all alone now. Her parents, broken after her sister Tanith’s disappearance had given up on lives and died of broken hearts. Dave’s refusal to speak of the events of that day had destroyed her family. Two young kids, they’d gone into the haunted house but only one returned. Finally, she could make him reveal the events of the day.
She watched him read the letter. She knew he couldn’t resist the mystery, it was what had drawn him and Tanith to that haunted house after all. She knew he’d go to the cliff and she knew she’d be waiting to meet him, ready to…
I’m tagging the ever wonderful Tales From The Mind Of Kristian to carry the baton.