The letter

It was a fine morning in April, a school day, when Marjorie woke up, the sun rays caressing her face. She was a young girl, just shy from turning ten. “I’m turning two digits tomorrow!” she whispered to herself excitedly, her French accent well pronounced.

Marjorie lived in a small urban area in Lyon, France, her house a majestic masterpiece surrounded by a beautiful garden. Little did she know of what was about to happen in the next moment or two.

“Marjorie!” her mother called from downstairs. “Oui Maman?” Marjorie called back.

“Come down here and have your breakfast. I have something important to tell you before you go to school today.”

“Oui Maman, I am coming”

After making her bed, she decided to put on a beautiful flowery dress, since it was a warm spring day, washed her face, brushed her curly gold locks and made her way downstairs. She was prompt, it took her less then ten minutes to get ready and it was exactly 10 after 7 on the stove clock when she arrived at the bottom of the stairs. Maman was waiting at the table which she had prepared with a wonderful breakfast of toasted baguette, jam, butter and cereals. She was drinking tea from a mug Marjorie had given her as a Mother’s Day gift which read “Maman je t’aime” on it. Papa was gone to work; he always left the house everyday at six am and the moment Marjorie could finally see him was in the late afternoon.

“Good morning, ma chérie,” said Maman as she set her mug down and pulled her daughter close to her in an embrace. “How did you sleep?” She dropped a light kiss on Marjorie’s forehead. “I slept well, Maman. What is it you want to tell me?”

“First sit, eat. Before I tell you what I want to say, I must warn you that you might be a little surprised. Remember your Grand-Maman, before she passed away last year, had given me a letter?”

“Yes” said Marjorie, a hint of sadness in her voice.

“Well, I couldn’t bring myself to open it until a few days ago. There is something grand-maman mentions about you. Would you like me to read it to you or do you want to read the letter yourself? You could read it after school if you prefer.”

When her mother had said the part about her grand-maman mentioning something about her, Marjorie’s eyebrows shot upwards, curiosity setting in. And there was something, she did not know what exactly, a feeling perhaps, that told her she should read the letter on her own.

“I think I will read the letter myself after school” said Marjorie, smiling at her mother.

“Then I will leave it on your bed for you” said Maman smiling back, yet the smile did not reach her eyes.

The day went by a bit slower than usual it seemed to Marjorie, as the only thing she thought of was the letter. “There is something grand-maman mentions about you”- she kept hearing her mother’s voice over and over again. When Maman had said that, her tone had become slightly grave as if it was something serious, but maybe she had imagined that. The bell rang suddenly, making her jump out of her reverie. It was the end of the day at last.

As soon as she opened the front door, Marjorie sprinted up the stairs to her room. She saw a red envelope on her bed. “The letter…” she thought. “What could it be?” she had thought out loud this time. She did not notice her heart was pounding in her chest until the very moment she touched the envelope. Even her hand was trembling- she did not know why- as she pulled out the letter from it’s encasing. She started to read:

My dearest daughter, son in law and grandchild,

These are my parting words to you… First, to Isabelle: daughter, you have been the light in my life when it became dark, the joy in my heart when it became sad and simply put it, a blessing of the Lord.

To Sébastien: son in law, I am thankful you asked my daughter’s hand in marriage. You are a fantastic husband- you’ve probably already been told but I must say it myself. Isabelle loves you very much and that truly makes me happy.

To Marjorie: My sweetest granddaughter, you are so pure in heart. I love you so much Marjorie. The day you were born is one of my most special memories. I want you to know that you are special- even more special than you think. Which leads me to something else I need to tell you. If you are reading this, you must soon be ten years old! Happy early birthday my dear. I asked your mother to let you read my letter when you turn that age specifically. Read on and you will know why. Now, there has been a long kept secret I have kept from you. Way back when, when I was about your age, just as soon as I turned ten years old, I noticed I could do things unlike anybody else. I could see things nobody else could see. And I could hear things nobody else could hear. You may not believe me at this moment but you will eventually. My- I guess you could call them “special abilities”- have been inherited by your mother the moment just before she turned ten. Just like me, I noticed she could do all kinds of things. She could move things without touching them, she could hear other people’s thoughts and she could see some parts of the future- which scared her and understandably so. That’s when I realized Isabelle, your mother, was a witch just like me. She learned to control her- abilities- but I think she might have passed them on to you Marjorie, just like I passed them on to her. But don’t be afraid. You will also learn to control these abilities if you do happen to have them too. When you turn ten, your whole life may change… but that does not mean it will be bad. You will experience good times and bad times, like everyone else! But remember this, you and only YOU, will be able to control your abilities. Your mother can help a little but it is your body, and you alone are in charge of it. I love you Marjorie and I wish you all my very best.

Grand-maman

Marjorie slowly put the letter back in the red envelope, eyes wide with shock. Maman is a witch? Grand-maman was a witch? “I do not believe it” said Marjorie to herself. “I cannot be a witch too. Witches don’t exist. I do not want to be a witch!” Anger started boiling up inside her and she flung her hands up in the air in frustration. As she made this action, her windows flew open and the wind came spiralling in making her blinds and her curtains sway back and forth, her plush animals and notebooks fly around her room and her gold locks whip around her in an angry motion. After a few minutes, she calmed down, went over to her windows and shakily closed them. Then she went back to her bed, sat down in a daze, and stared ahead of her with wide eyes as realization sank in. She did not hear her Papa come in that afternoon nor her Maman greeting him. All she heard was the wind.

The end

Written by: Cara O’Hearn