The Letter
by Celtic Cowboy
Copyright© 2026 by Celtic Cowboy
Essay Story: A letter brings hope, disappointment, and self examination.
Tags: Fiction
It arrived this morning in the early post. At one time it had been an ordinary white envelope, now it was yellowed with age. It would not have stood out at all from the other cards and letters sent to congratulate me upon my fiftieth birthday, except for the return address, it read:
A. Friend
Somewhere, Someplace, Anytime
I pulled it out to open first even though there were many other more elaborate and more exotic ones among the pile on the silver tray. My name and address had been neatly printed on the ancient envelope. The franking was plain and from some foreign land I had never heard of. If the return address had been eye catching then the cancellation marks on the stamp were breath taking. There in black and white Somewhere, Someplace, Anytime, just as though there was such a place. Turning it over I found a red wax seal “A. Friend” raised in tiny letters in the wax.
My hands were shaking now and I laid the letter back among the others. I could not get over the feeling of dread the letter now held. Perhaps it is simply a joke; yes that’s it, one of my old classmates no doubt. Still I could not bring myself to open the mysterious document. I turned instead to the other cards and letters and attempted to sweep the strange letter from my thoughts. As I enjoy the bits of humour, news and what, for some of my old mates passed for sage advice for the years to come. My eyes kept returning to the dingy yellowed envelope.
The next to last envelope was a letter from my mother, I recognised her unsteady hand. And for a brief few minutes I concentrated on deciphering the shaky script. Then as I folded my mother’s letter, and returned it to its place my eyes fell upon the yellowed envelope. Now I would have to act. A decision would have to be made. Dare I open it?
As I reached for the mysterious letter the tremors returned to my hands. Rather than picking it up and opening it, I turned instead to the tantalus sitting on the credenza behind my desk. Taking the key from my pocket I unlocked it and poured a rather large portion of the amber liquid. The lead crystal glass was heavy in my hand as the clock in the hallway struck the hour. Out of habit I pulled the watch from my vest pocket and verified the time. A bit early perhaps I thought to myself as I inhaled the fumes emanating from the whiskey which I downed in a single gulp. But the single malt’s bite was exactly what I needed to instil the courage needed to open the letter.
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