Letters from Elmwood

Chapter 1: Hidden Notes.

POV: Elizabeth.

Soft, warm wafts of smoke lightly hit my face. The crackle of glowing fire buzzed in my ears gently as I warmed my marshmallow to a golden crisp. I spread a layer of melted chocolate on my honey graham crackers and slid in the marshmallow. Before the chocolate could drip any more, I took a bite. Gosh, I love autumn. Falling leaves paired with perfect s’mores—I mean, what could possibly be better? After all, the stars are gently shining in the sky like beacons leading sailors back to shore. I could almost imagine those little ships, rippling through the endless universe, trying to find a way home. And with each passing day, they get a little closer, a little bit more whole. And now that I think about it, I’m stuck in that loop too.

I live in a little fairytale-style cottage down in a deeply wooded area. My grand-pappy built it from scratch, using the local mud to make sturdy bricks and cement. He didn't decorate it much, but he passed it down to my father. He took the place into renovation, and even took the time to add a little porch in the back. I used to love lounging on those stick-made lawn chairs.

But my dad moved away and granted me the house. I’ve been living here since I was twenty-two, and I’m about twenty-six now. How many years would that be? Two... three... four. Yea—four years here. And it’s still in great condition.

I’ve taken decoration into my own hands since. I added a new arched door, painted a soft white with vines hanging overhead. Tulips line the edges of the house, reinforcing its roots and giving life to the building. The windows were tinted a slight gray, and the one in the back had a white rose welded into it. And on the inside, downstairs held a mini kitchen with a living room, and upstairs my bedroom plus a small bathroom. I decorated each with a forest theme in mind, with my favorite addition being a little mushroom stool for my vanity.

However, even with this near-perfect life, I still feel like a part of me is... well... missing. I can’t figure out what exactly, but I know it’s not here. I’ve tried searching for it and reaching into my heart to find it, but no luck. Like something’s been erased from me, a crack keeping me from becoming whole. And no way to seal it up. Yet.

I can’t keep ignoring this longing; it tugs on my soul relentlessly. I feel like I’m tethered to something... unseen. Something too fragile to break, yet too lost to steer. No real clues have been discovered, but there are endless possibilities. What could it be? What could it be? That question has kept me up many nights.

Shortly after I started pondering, a soft knocking was audible, and it was coming from my door. Who in heaven’s sake would be up at this hour, let alone visiting a house in the middle of a forest? I crept up to my door, trying not to make too much sound, as I could frighten the stranger. But when I opened my door—nothing. Not a person near my door, or a deer, or any other sort of wildlife. I looked around, searching for any clue of what could have caused that rapping at my cottage door.

I found no sign of a visitor, except for some footprints embedded on the ground. They were spaced out, so clearly whoever was here was in a rush to retreat. And placed neatly beside my welcome mat was an envelope. It was slightly faded and closed by a cherry red wax seal shaped like a rose. Who in their right mind leaves an envelope at a doorstep and runs away? Well... except for delivery drivers, of course.

I cautiously shut my wooden door and seated myself back at the campfire. An envelope, with nothing but a seal. No name, no return address, just gone. Like someone had taken the package and sent it in an incomplete form.

I slowly unraveled the outer edges, careful not to tear up the paper. Inside, a tiny sheet of paper with neat handwriting. They clearly knew their cursive, as the letters were formed with beautiful swirls and connecting lines. The writing read:

"Dear Elizabeth, if you can, meet me at the park near Elmwood Drive, around noon. Before you leave though, check the old stump behind your house. I left something there for you."

The old stump? Why wait till morning? It is still dark, but... it is pretty hard to get to the stump without light guiding your path. Fine, I’ll wait till morning. But how do they know my name? And who is this person?

Chapter 2: Awaited Greetings.

POV: ???

My hands were shaking, and my mind rushed with adrenaline. Was she actually going to come? Will she like my gift? And how do I tell her that... that... ahhh never mind, no need to dread on that. I've been waiting here for about an hour, and made sure the picnic was all set up.

It was one of those classic red and white plaid blankets, and I found a cozy spot to lay it under a nearby tree. The shade is perfect, and the autumn leaves falling make it even more moody. I laid a brown picnic basket filled with a couple of sweets; her favorites—strawberry jam tarts and chocolate mousse mini cakes. I set up a couple of plates and some drinks filled with lemonade on the sides. I even found some fake gold utensils to match the china. Quite good work on my account, plus I got some rose petals sprinkled around a few candles that I set down in the middle.

If she doesn’t arrive soon—my nerves are gonna make me lose it, or worse—bolt. Just try to think clearly, Robert. You have a chance. Just remember what she said once, "Love is fragile, but if you play your cards right it can come with amazing rewards." Oh god, oh god, there she is. Stunning as usual. With those big, hazel-shaded bunny eyes. And I see she found my gift, she looks gorgeous in it.

"Hey, Elizabeth."

"Hello... sir."

"I see you found my present."

"Yes, it’s quite a nice dress, elegant floral design, but why did you call me here?"

"Well... I wanted to catch up with you."

"Catch up with me?" she mumbled. "Why, I don’t even know you."

"You don’t remember? It’s me, Robert."

"That’s a decent name, sir, but I have no memory of you."

"Uhhh, high school? You know, Diamond-Lake? We went there together."

I saw her face go through the most intense processing I’ve seen yet, even deeper than our past geometry class in sophomore year.

"Oh, yes, you were one of my homeroom classmates, correct? Sweet of you to set this up, but I have much better things to be doing than chatting with a classmate I hardly knew. Toodeloo, then."

As she strutted away, I panicked, my eyes fully twitching.

"W- Wait! It’s important, I promise. I just need... ummm... ten minutes, alright?"

Thankfully, all I got was a strange look that seemed to say, "Are you out of your mind?" But she walked back, confusion present in her eyes, and sat on the edge of the picnic blanket, farthest away from me. Clearly, she was afraid of me, but I had to get this off my chest.

Chapter 3: Flying Embers.

POV: Elizabeth.

Why am I still here? His voice... feels like it’s directed at something inside me. Not at me. I can’t stand it. Even with his blabbering, he certainly doesn't seem like he could possibly give me any clues as to what I’m missing, so why should I stay? He’s quite impolite, I do say. Gives off complete insane vibes, and not in a good way. But I suppose the term insane is never used in a good way.

This setup he’s made is quite interesting, but I'd rather not touch any of it. Who knows—at this rate, he could’ve drugged my drink or poisoned the food. He surely seems like a guy that would pull some shenanigan like that.

What is he on about? Some party during our freshman year? His voice... was strange—no, not strange. Just... familiar. Too familiar. My body’s screaming at me to run, I’m bored out of my mind, and it’s been more than ten minutes. Yet I can’t move. Even if I wanted to—I’m frozen. I looked up to the sky.

Zeus, if you’re listening... please. Strike him down. Give me a reason—any reason—to leave. I can't run. I can’t save myself. But maybe you can.

While I wait, I need to figure out something. Should I lock my doors when I get back home? Punch him in the face and run for it? Simply just dash away without looking back?

"That party was real fun, w- wasn’t it?" he stuttered. "Ooh! And there was this other time that we ha—"

"It’s been quite... interesting to hear you talk about these 'memories', but it’s past the ten-minute mark and I really must be going."

His face turned the shade of a tomato as he realized the impact of his topic choice.

"Damn it—I mean, are you sure? It’s such a beautiful day."

Why is this guy so stubborn? I just want to go back home!

"Yes, a beautiful day to... leave you," I whispered.

"A beautiful day to what?"

"Nothing, nothing! Goodbye now... Robert."

He smiled softly, his reason for doing so I couldn’t grasp, and I darted back into the woods as quick as I could. That was a complete waste of my time. That creep better not come knocking back on my door again. What if he does? What do I do then? Just gotta run for now, and pray he doesn’t try going after me. God, what have I gotten myself into!?

Chapter 4: Too Many High Notes

POV: Robert

What have I done!? I’m such a freaking idiot! Why did I ramble like that? Why couldn’t I just ask her how she was doing!? Why didn’t I—shoot, shoot, she’s running! And fast. Dang, her dress flows so gracefully in the wind while she’s running. Knew I made a good selection, and it’s just her size. Agh, what am I thinking? I have to get her back—quick.

"WAIT! Please, Elizabeth! Just one more minute, please!"

Though already deep in the woods, she turned around halfway, just enough for my voice to reach her.

I need to stop stalling. This is probably the only chance I’ll ever have. I must tell her—now.

"I’ve tried a million times in high school to rehearse this, and even now I have trouble playing it in my mind."

She glared at me with a side eye, seconds away from running away.

"Look, I know you think I’m insane. But I’m not. This—this isn’t. You just have to believe me. I wouldn’t have invited you if—no actually, I still would have invited you, but not like this. I just—I’m truly sorry if I freaked you out earlier. But Eli, how could I not fall for you? You’re an angel in human form, and walked into my life like you belonged there! Elizabeth, I’m in love with you!"

She turned fully, now facing me, but I couldn’t read her face. It looked like a mix of disappointment, and something else. She backed away a couple steps, face pale and body wobbly.

"Robert, why would you say that to me!?"

God, I’d really screwed up.

"Look, at that first day in class, when you sat in front of me, I saw your neat little braids with that special blue ribbon tied in your hair. You said hello to me with that sweet, addictive smile of yours, and I fell for you. Oh, there was another time at a homecoming party, where you had said that the best way to express your love was to get gifts and stay close to them. And I’ve done both!"

She looked at me in utter horror, and I froze.

"Robert, I was alone during that party..."

Her face seemed to be screaming at me, "How did you know that, you creep!?"

Shoot. I’m in trouble and miles deep already. There’s no getting out.

"Wait! Please..."

And just like that, she was back in the forest, and I didn’t have the courage to go after her.

Chapter 5: Fractured Lines

POV: Elizabeth

Gotta get back home. Now. What was that? Is today even freaking real? God, I’m always cursed to be loved by the rotten bunch of bananas. That man's brain was practically mush, like an overripe banana that was never tossed. Agh, here I am, trying to crack jokes to keep myself from cracking. Gosh, I’m such a mess. Also, can he not take a hint!? I tried being overly polite, sitting farthest away from him, even cutting our time short, and he still doesn’t get it??? He better not come after me, or I will punch him in the face and throw him into the tangled weeds. That’ll teach him... maybe.

I ran back into my home and slammed the door behind me, rushing to the envelope. I can’t stand seeing it again, let alone keeping it in one piece. It reminds me too much of him, a name I never want to speak again.

I ripped off the seal, tore the letter into uneven sections, and tossed everything into the fireplace.

Still, as the remnants of that horrible day burned to ash, my mind kept drifting back to his voice.

"You said hello to me with that sweet, addictive smile of yours, and I fell for you."

What does he mean, sweet? I was just—

I slapped myself quickly and shut down the thought.

The crackle of the fire broke any physical reminder of him. But the smoke still clung to my skin with an unfamiliar scent, and his voice stuck in my head. A name I never wanted to remember, yet etched in my head with a permanent marker. And though my door was locked and he was gone, I could still faintly hear a phrase I couldn’t dismiss, "I just wanted you to remember."

Did he ever say that? Or was it... the part of me I never found?