Elsewhere

Dear Resident, 

   I really do not know how to start this. It’s an absurd idea really. But I thought it would be a rather, interesting sort of thing for whoever stumbles upon my letters. I’m writing to you, from the past. I sincerely hope this works and these letters are found only when I am long gone and unreachable. Please forgive me for my messiness, it is a stressful time for everyone.

   It’s winter currently. I’ve always liked the winter season. Many of my comrades disagree, as they dislike the need for thick woolen coats and the layers upon layers of fabric you are dressed in. Although it is a bother, I believe the fluttering snowflakes and sparkling icicles make up for it. Do you agree?

   My favorite part of winter is not the experiences outside, but in, inside this home in which you have found my writing, near or far future. 

   I know it’s quite cheesy but there’s nothing quite as wonderful as staying bundled up next to a crackling fire as the snow falls just outside my window, littering the ground in phenomenal white specks. What do you think?

   My time is running short. I must get back to my duties, but I will write again, This was rather relaxing and I hope you feel the same. I know this may seem ludicrous, but please kindly write back before reading my next letter. These will most likely not be found for an extended period of time, and I will, again, be out of reach by then, but please fulfill my request. Thank you for reading. 

Sincerely,

   Your Writer

--

Isla Camille has always dreamt big since she was just a little kid. Big city, big house, big life, but walking through the flooded streets of the city, bumping into people with various life experiences, she knew she had to start small. As she took in the view before her, towering skyscrapers, small alleyways, cramped stores, and the starless night sky, she let out a sigh of contentment and walked into her place. The place she loved so dearly, the old walls, worn corners, everything about it left her in awe.

It was a busy time of the year, Christmas. People rushing to get last minute gifts, flight after flight coming in and out, they had good reasons to be stressed. However, the holiday season was the last thing on Isla’s mind. She hadn’t even put up any decorations, the lights, the tree, the mistletoe, it all went over her head. 

When people think of winter, they would most likely think of all the celebrations occurring during the chilly time, while Isla would think about the chilliness. Spending the winter time inside was the best way to spend it in her books. Among the place she called her own, the place she returned to every day.

As Isla thought about the wonderful things the winter season brought, a slight creek in her floorboards pulled from her daydreaming. She thought it was nothing until they creaked, creaked, and creaked, like a cranky toddler not getting what they wanted.

A frown made its way onto her face and she hummed in disapproval. Walking towards the mysterious floorboard, she decided to pull it from the ground. Something about it intrigued her, pulled her towards it, it was almost like a video game cutscene, she was restrained from doing anything but investigating. 

An ever so small corner of a golden box appeared, Isla almost missed it. A small gasp escaped her lips. She pursed them as she thought about just covering up her discovery and forgetting it ever existed, but her curiosity got the better of her, and she lifted the box from the floor, dusting the grime off. 

The wooden box was adorned with various carvings and what seemed to be gold traces running through the edges. Perfect curves and symmetrical designs littered the surface of the box. Although, something else caught Isla’s attention entirely. A single silver lock on the front of the box, looking completely untouched and most importantly, it was unlocked. 

Isla dropped the box when she realized what exactly was happening. She had just found a strange box under her floorboards, looking very expensive and definitely not meant for her. But, something about it ignited something within her, a feeling that the box really was meant for her. It was far-fetched, and maybe even imaginary, but Isla held onto that feeling before it flew away, like a startled butterfly in the night. 

She slowly walked back towards the box and removed the lock. She closed her eyes and braced herself as she quickly lifted the top off. Nothing happened, no monsters, no screams, nothing. Isla opened her eyes and looked down into the box. Inside, it contained a simple pile of thick, beige paper, their edges severely worn. Isla tilted her head in confusion and took the top piece of parchment into her hands and opened it. 

As she read through what seemed to be a letter of sorts, each line left her in a state of pure bewilderment. Why was the writer's thoughts so similar to hers just a moment ago? Winter time? Staying in? She was just thinking about all of these things when she found the bloody thing! Isla reread the letter as many times as she could until she got dizzy from memorizing each line. 

‘Inside this home in which you have found my writing’ Did that mean they lived here too? How long ago? She put her hand over her mouth and mumbled, “Who is this?” The only clue that was left for her was the concluding name of ‘Your Writer’. 

Isla’s mind was running a million miles an hour as she thought about how mad this was. She didn’t even know when these letters were written or who they were even written by. And they told me to write back, she thought, rubbing her eyes. 

Isla quickly grabbed the first letter, closed the box, attached the lock, and put it back into the floor. Shaking her head, she settled at her table, letting out a breath she didn’t even realize she was holding. “I mean what’s the harm in writing back anyways?” She tried to convince herself. “It’s not like I’m sending it anywhere.” 

She shook her head again and set down the letter. “I’m crazy, I’m crazy, I’m crazy,” she repeated, grabbing a piece of paper and a pen. Isla didn’t know why she was still engaging in this whole ‘letter thing’, but something pulled her towards this insane ordeal. Something about the mystery, the abruptness, the timed coincidences. She sighed and got to work, this was going to be a long night. 

--

Dear Writer,

   Alright, here we go I guess. I haven’t written a letter since the 4th grade, but I’ll try my best. I don’t know why I’m writing this letter back to you, a probably dead person, but I guess there’s no harm in trying. 

   It’s ironic, and kind of creepy, that I found these letters during winter too. Christmas is just days away, but I’m not finding myself as excited as I was years ago. But, when you have nobody to spend it with, I guess that’s just what happens. Sidenote, what did you mean by ‘it is a stressful time for everyone’? Again, this is crazy, you’re not going to answer me.

   As for your other thoughts, I agree, winter is the best season in my opinion. I also think that winter is best spent inside, admiring the beauty of it from afar. I especially like waking up and seeing the snowmen the kids in my complex make, if you even know what a snowman is. It’s refreshing to see how they express their excitement. 

   It’s weird isn’t it? That our thoughts are so similar. Not that these thoughts are unique or anything, it’s just, something about your writing… I don’t know, I don’t know what I think. But I do know that if I had a fireplace, I would use it, this place gets very cold at night. 

   Anyways, that’s all. I have nothing else to say, and I’m ending this letter now. Goodbye.

Sincerely, 

   Isla

--

The next morning, Isla woke up with a headache, remembering what happened last night. She cringed at the thought of her writing back to this mystery person she knew nothing about, other than liking the winter season. This was driving her insane, she couldn’t figure out why she felt the urge to… do it again.

Isla tried to keep the letters out of her mind as she worked through her day, but they never left her head. The thoughts kept coming back to her. There was a feeling, a feeling she didn’t know she was capable of having, inside her, just waiting to burst out. It was a desire to know more about this ‘Writer’ person. Why did they write the letters in the first place? And why was she, out of all people, the one to find them? 

Isla grew impatient as the sun started to set on the horizon, clouds lightly dusting the orange sky. She gathered her things and rushed out the door. She was like a ticking time bomb, the letters, the only diffuser. 

She exhaled calmly and mumbled, “I’m not desperate to get back home, and when I do, I’m just going to treat it like any other day.” Although, this was not any other day, and her actions were completely contradictory to her statement as she sped past pedestrians, muttering slight apologies that they didn’t care about. Isla’s patience was running thin, and she still couldn't understand why this was so important to her. 

By the time she got to her home, the bright stars were scattered across the navy blue sky, like Isla’s thoughts in her mind. With one swift motion, she unveiled the beautiful box from the unexpected space in her floorboards. As Isla removed the silver lock from the hook and opened the lid, she found her heart beating faster than expected. 

She inhaled sharply, and took the next worn piece of parchment in her hands and unfolded it. 

-- 

Dear Resident, 

   Greetings again. So I take it you’ve decided to write me back, I sincerely appreciate your words, even if I’m not reading them. You have probably wondered about many things from our last exchange, I admit the fact that I was a bit too vague, but no worries, hopefully my response is satisfactory to your inquiries. Although I also hope you don’t mind me keeping a bit of anonymity regarding my name!

   Today I would like to write about where I am, and where you are as well, if you are reading this. A lovely cabin, separate from the kingdom, my duties as prince. I do not think I mentioned that in my previous letter, sorry to startle you. 

   My kingdom is beautiful, do not get me wrong. But, sometimes I just need a place to let go, somewhere where I don’t need to act all the time. I found this abandoned cabin while wandering down a trail near the castle, it is a perfect place for my needs indeed. 

   The walls are a bit worn and the roof does creak sometimes, but that’s just part of the beauty. I do hope it has not changed much, I’m quite fond of the place. 

   Now, I do have more to say, but my time is running short once again. Farewell, until the next letter.

Sincerely,

    Your Writer

--

Isla’s mouth was agape in shock. Then she started laughing, she laughed a hearty laugh that filled her small room as the sounds echoed off the walls.

“This is some kind of joke right?” She said to no one in particular. “I mean a prince? There’s no way. This is a joke.” She repeated. But something deep down willed her on. It’s true. It seemed to say. She shook her head and let out another laugh, standing up. 

“Well, I haven’t laughed like that in a while, let’s get this over with.” Isla sat down, a piece of paper and her pen already waiting for her at the table. She smiled, picked up the pen and started writing. 

--

Dear Writer, 

   Now that was a big bomb to drop on me. A prince? A joke, that’s what this is. Anyways, I guess I’ll start writing for real now. 

   This cabin we’re both in is very beautiful indeed. Although, it is not much of a cabin anymore, I would still love to call it that.

The old, mysterious feel was what drew me to it in the first place. The walls are the same as you’ve mentioned, worn and ragged, nobody's fixed them up a substantial amount. I particularly love the small porch along the front of the place, I don’t know if this was added or if it was always here though. 

   Well, that’s where I’m going to end my letter for today, hopefully we have more to talk about next time, writing short letters is unsatisfying when I look forward to this all day, I mean, not that I do, I just have nothing else to think about. Goodbye then.

Sincerely,

    Isla

--

Isla clapped her hands together and a big smile spread across her face. “Glad that’s over.” She stretched her arms out and looked at the clock. It read 10:57. As she stood up she let out another airy laugh and shook her head. “Prince. Yeah right.” Right then and there, she thought to herself, yeah I can live with this, this is something I can live with for sure. And she drifted off to sleep. 

--

The letters have become a daily part of her life at this point. Wake up, go to work, come home, read a letter, respond, sleep. Rinse and repeat, every day. Some letters are funny and make her laugh, others are a bit more serious, but it doesn’t stop her from reading them over and over. 

It’s weird how much her and this stranger had in common. It’s almost like we’re actually writing to each other… okay, too far. These thoughts filled Isla’s head as she mindlessly entered her home for the night. “It’s just a very insane number of coincidences.” She said out loud, nodding to herself. 

Isla still didn’t know his name, which caused a huge void in her research. Without a name, she couldn't find out anything about a ‘prince’ who lived where, or close to where, she is right now. She couldn’t even find anything about a so-called ‘kingdom’ that used to be on the grounds of her city. But, it didn’t bother her as much anymore, she still wrote back to her nameless writer. 

As Isla went to open the box again, her eyes widened at what she found. One more piece of parchment. One more browned, worn letter. One more conversation with the Mystery Prince. How did she not notice?

She slowly picked up the paper and exhaled. Best to get it over with, now I won’t have to write them back anymore, what a burden that was. But Isla’s thoughts didn’t do any help in convincing her they were true, but she decided to open the last letter anyway, not a moment's hesitation more. 

--

Dear Resident,

   I’m afraid this might be my last letter to you. I’m not even sure if anyone’s reading, or if anyone’s responding. But I will write nonetheless. 

   Resident, my duty awaits. Today is my coronation. Our kingdom is under high pressure, it’s a mess. My father, who is still bedridden with sickness, thought it would be best to promote me as soon as possible. 

   I lack the words for a proper farewell, I admit, it is a challenge. After writing for so long from the cabin I, and hopefully you, love, you would think this would be easier. I would just like to sincerely thank you for reading all my letters and bearing through my rants and complaints, and answering my questions. It has been wonderful, even if I’m not reading your responses. 

   Although this is the last letter, I still expect you to write back, so I do have a final question, it relates to the very first letter I wrote to you, I hope you still remember. 

   What is your favorite part about the winter season?

   I know it’s lacking, but I seem to have lost my words. Again, farewell, dear Resident. 

Sincerely,

  Prince Ambrose

--

Dear Prince Ambrose,

   I finally know your name! And to think I was getting used to calling you ‘Mystery Prince’. I appreciate your letters, they’ve given me something to look forward to throughout the same old same old day to day events. It’s been nice talking to you, even if you’re dead. And to be honest, you’ve expanded my vocabulary quite a lot. 

   Regarding your question, there are so many reasons why I love winter. The glittering snow, chilly air, thick jackets, long scarves, shining icicles, holidays, the list can go on and on. 

   But my favorite part was meeting you and your letters, in this cabin we love so dearly.

   This is a short letter, but I think a short letter is the way to go. Goodbye Prince Ambrose. See you elsewhere.

Sincerely, 

   Isla

“Thank you,” a small voice that could be mistaken for the wind, whispered. “For writing me back.” It might’ve even been imaginary. But at that moment, Isla knew that this was a story she was keeping to herself.