So the assignment here was to find an existing post card/card/note and create your own story surrounding it. This card was discovered by this guy who found it in his Grandmothers belongings. It was a cryptic letter that’s taken him 20 years to figure out the pattern. The pattern is that she uses the … Continue reading Post Card Assignment (4 1/2 stars)
This is an adaptation of the Postcards from the Past writing assignment. The idea is to take a postcard, or some old document, and contextualize it with some narrative writing. I decided to make a fictional postcard, and base it on Kim’s character, Sasha Kellogg. Kellogg’s origin story includes her parents being murdered when she was a kid, so I went with the sad trope of ‘the little girl sending a note to the PI regarding her parents’ death, asking for help’. I tied in this note and Sardic reading it with a day at the office, and meeting clients.
I just stared at the postcard for a while. It’s definitely real; people think my business is such a joke that customers hardly ever even show up, let alone pranksters. I recognized the kid’s last name, Kellogg, when I opened the card. Her parent’s murders were in the papers. This poor girl, being there when here parents’ lives were violently ended by another person. She would carry the weight of that night for the rest of her life. Eventually that weight will either make her strong or crush her, but for now she’s just a little girl who wants to know why her parents had to die. My mind drifted to my own parents, and how they died when I was a kid. I quickly snuffed out the thought, no point dwelling on my own baggage now. This girl needed help, and without it she might try to do something dumb like go looking for this murderer. I don’t know if this guy is human or an outsider, but either way, a murderer is a murderer. I’ll find him.
A loud knocking interrupted my thoughts. Looking up, I saw three bulky shadows through the semi-transparent glass window on my office door. Hmph, they’re early. I carefully fit the post card back into its envelope and placed it on my desk. “Come in,” I said loudly enough for the figures outside to hear as I took a pen from the desk drawer and scribbled “investigation pending” on the back of the Kellogg’s envelope. The door opened to reveal that the three figures were not at all being obscured by my dirty office window. They were vaguely humanoid, smoky clouds floating a foot above the ground. The top of the thick swirling wisps that I assumed were their heads would have stood a full foot above me if I were standing. The three clouds drifted through the door, toward me. As they approached, I dropped the envelope containing Kellogg’s postcard into the bottom bin of the filing cabinet behind me. A deep buzz emanated from the clouds before me, growing more and more intense as they approached. It was something I almost felt rather than heard. I clenched my jaw when they got too close, to keep my teeth from audibly rattling. Just as they stopped in front of my desk, I slid the drawer shut and locked it with a small key, which I put in my pocket, before looking directly at them.
“So,” I said, as nonchalantly as I could muster, “you must be my three-o-clock. What can I do for you gentlemen?”
It was to be a happy day for the wedding couple. Being of a time when people worried about every little thing, they tried to make their wedding day special and enjoyable. Unfortunately, the older sister of the bride decided to throw a hissy-fit.
“He was supposed to be mine”, “What does she have that I don’t have”, were some of her rants.
The fathers of the couple had agreed to the possibility of a marriage years before. The older sister had it in her head that the groom would be hers. She had a high opinion of herself, thinking less of the youngest sister.
When the groom came to meet the sisters, he took one look at the youngest and new that she was the one for him. She was beautiful, smart, and sweet. He thought that she would be the perfect wife for him.
The oldest sister came of as arrogant, hateful, and condescending. He knew that this would not be good for his shop at home or his family.
Right before the picture was taken, the brides father told the oldest sister that if she made another scene, he was shipping her off to a nunnery. Therefore, when the picture was taken, everyone was trying to get through the pictures.
This image is of Margaret Pinault and Mathieu Gaston in front of their home in France. Mathieu was a millionaire art collector and Margaret was a painter herself. This was at the beginning of their marriage when they just moved into their new home. Margaret looks sad because this was the first time that Mathieu had hit her, he hit her because he thought her paintings were not god enough. She was upset because she knew they had pictures the next day and she was forced to smile and act happy but you can see it on her face that she was not. This was the beginning to the end of their relationship…
Cat’s P.O.V.
Who would have thought a crinkled piece of paper would be such a gem of a treasure. In the midst of this intense war, it’s at least a brief relief to see this ink across the page as proof of the beat of his heart.
Beau can never tell me much but that he’s on “official government business” that has something to do with greatly improving our country’s chances of emerging from this war victorious. I admire him for being so brave and dedicated to his home, as am I. His chivalry and intelligence are qualities that remind me of my father … Their existence instill in me the smallest bit of hope that his spirit lives on. But I can’t help but wonder how much of what Beau writes is even true. Is he in England, “safe and sound and feeling mighty fine”? And why, why is he “in haste“?!
Even if I could be assured that it would get to him, I can’t even find the words to write back.
I despise not knowing … There was always something that my father wasn’t telling me, and now Beau is doing the same. I never needed their protection!
I can clearly fend for myself … I’ve been doing so for a while now. Did they ever think perhaps I could help?!
Almost as if of its own accord, my hand shakily inches its way across the stationary, a sure sign that somehow, my own heart continues to beat in tune with his.
My dearest friend,
As I sing my song tonight, I hope the moonlight carries its tune to you, a million miles towards wherever you are.
Best wishes, Beau.
Dearest Melody Bay Kennish Ahn,
I have yet to hear word of your work being moved to a gallery and which can only mean you are still giving away your highly sought after paintings for free. What a shame such talent must go to waste. I also request the baby picture of you that you swiped at our last rather abrupt meeting.
Kisses,
Priscilla
Priscilla,
Here is the baby picture you requested of me. Or rather demanded.
Also stop sending art collectors to the bakery. My work does not need appraisal.
Melody Bay
P.S.
I took seeing the billboard for your concert in Atlantic City last week as an invitation to visit. My mistake.
I decided to do the “Postcards from the Past” writing assignment as the one that I will focus around the character that I created Lawrence Spitler. I found this old love letter and since there is no name on it, it will work perfectly for my story! If you have yet to read about my character, you should check it out (that’s the link below).
http://trysoccer29.com/uncategorized/meet-lawrence-spitler/
Lawrence walked into his bedroom and was surprised by the piece of paper he saw lying on the bed. He picked it up and started to read. He thought to himself, “How did I ever get so lucky to find a woman that could truly love me like she does?” He finished off the letter, laid it on the nightstand beside the bed and walked down the hallway calling her name. “Aria? Aria, where are you?” He peeked his head around the corner to the kitchen only to see she wasn’t there.
“Honey? Come out from wherever you are!” He said with a little grin. He made his way to the living room but still no loving wife to be found. All of a sudden the front door ripped open and there she stood in a wonderful purple sundress.
“Aria!” he said. “I’ve been looking all over for you!” Then he swooped her up into his arms and hugged her tight.
“I was just at the store grabbing some things for tonight. I assume you found my letter?” He didn’t say anything but he looked her deep in the eyes and kissed her like he never had before. He finally realized he was worth loving and couldn’t be happier with who he was meant to be with. “Oh, stop it, you!” She said as she yanked away from his arms. “I’ve got things to do, Mister! I have to get all kinds of pretty for you tonight and you better wear your good tie!”
He laughed and kissed her cheek. “It’s only my good tie because you picked it out.” She blushed then vanished into the hallway to the bedroom. He thought quickly, “I’ll write my own letter and surprise her with it before we go out tonight! That will really get her excited!” So he went on into the office, found a piece of blank paper and a pen and began his response to the letter that had made his week.
The letter read:
My dearest, loving wife,
How did I get so lucky as to call you mine? I never knew it from the day I met you that this was how it would end up, I really didn’t. It’s crazy to think we can put up with each other for so long and still love each other more and more each day. You’re my best friend, my lover, my everything and I could never even imagine my life without you, without us. My life was very dark before I met you and now every day I see a brighter light! Waking up next to the greatest person in the world is the best feeling and I’m ever so grateful that I get to spend my life with you. Who would’ve thought a man like me would be able to find love and this great of a love at that! You’re wonderful in every single way, and I, too, cherish every moment and every memory we make together. Please don’t ever forget that I love you to pieces and I would do anything and everything I can to protect you. I will never leave you and you are everything that is good in my life. I can’t wait for the many years to come, my darling. I love you oh so much.
Love,
Lawrence
He put it in an envelope and addressed it My Only Love then walked out into the hallway.
He could hear her in the bathroom so he just put the envelope on her nightstand and laid down on their bed. He heard the shower turn on and knew that she’d be at least an hour and a half until she’d be ready to leave. He put his hands behind his head and decided to doze off for a few minutes…
He awoke with a jump, frantically looking around, only to find darkness throughout the entire room. There was no light coming from anywhere and it was like he didn’t even know where he was. He felt around until he found a lamp to turn on and he was utterly distraught when he saw what was around him. The TV on the stand was broken, there was an old, reeking couch over in the corner and the whole place smelled like rotten eggs. The bedspread was a mustard yellow color and on the nightstand was an open bottle of pills.
He then realized what had just happened and then began to cry.
Lawrence may be a tough and strong man on the outside, but on the inside he has a huge heart. The letter, Aria, and their lovely life…it was all just a dream. A dream that felt so real he could feel her soft skin against as they hugged. A dream that felt so real he could taste her soft lips as they kissed. A dream that felt so real he actually thought she was a real person and she had written him a real love letter and he had really found someone to fall in love with. He was devastated.
After a few minutes of crying, he shook it off and got angry. He thought, “What’s wrong with me? I’m turning soft.” He got up off the bed, threw on the jacket to his suit and burst out the door, slamming it behind him. “I don’t need no woman anyway. All I need is me, myself, and I. That’s all I’ve ever had and that’s all I’m ever going to need.” He made it to a bar down the street and immediately called the bartender over.
“Give me the strongest stuff you got,” he said. The bartender nodded, walked off, then came back with a big glass of some brown looking liquid. Lawrence didn’t pause to ask what it was, he took the glass from the counter and chugged it down.
“Another,” he said. “Now.” Again the bartender ran off and came back with two glasses of the same brown looking liquid. Both of the glasses were gone in less than a minute and it continued that way for about 30 minutes to an hour.
All of a sudden everyone in the bar went silent. The bartender looked over the counter to the floor and saw Lawrence sprawled out, he had fallen off the barstool.
“Alright,” the bartender said. “Someone help me get him to the couch.”
—–
It was a summer’s morning, the temperature was great and the birds were chirping. Lawrence walked into his bedroom and was surprised by the piece of paper he saw lying on the bed. He picked it up and started to read.
THE END
I really enjoyed writing this. This was a very fun writing assignment.
I’m relating this assignment to my character, John Brown.
This photo is from John Brown’s mother. This was taken when he was 14, when John and his mother were going to market to buy some food. She looked at this whenever she felt sorry for his son and miss him. She knew that he has wounded heart from people especially from family. The reason for her remarriage was she wanted make him to live in better conditions. But she did not know that he was happier when he was living with her and father (not stepfather). This picture is the only one that she has, so she always look his back not face. She is waiting for call from John Brown and she miss him a lot. Of course John Brown is her son but she knows he would not call her or visit her to see. The only thing she can do is just waiting and see his back in the picture.
We only had right now
And right now was all we needed.
There was no past, no future, no war.
I had him and he had me.
How long this would last I have no idea
But I pray that it will last for the rest of my life,
For the rest of eternity.
But I know that isn’t true,
That he would leave and fight strangers,
That he would kill another human.
And that he may never come back.
So, I put my chin up,
Smile a smile that is everlasting,
And look into his eyes one last time
As the camera flashes.
The letter that I chose was from a World War II marine who died in a special mission against the nazi’s. This letter shows his true fears of this upcoming assignment and that he is practically saying goodbye to his mother and family and saying sorry to them for this. It is almost like a suicidal note because the mission was known as a suicidal mission, they didn’t think anyone would end up alive.
I am relating this to my character, Mr. Bruno Longfellow.
Longs is a private detective, always putting his life on the line for other people, sometimes for the good and sometimes for the bad. He tries to always put on a tough front where he doesn’t let anything in or bother him, but some missions are scarier then others, some are more life threatening then others. On one particular night, he reaches out to his father in jail and writes a letter to him saying that he is sorry for everything he did as a child, but what he is about to do is for the best. This is when longs goes on the worst night of his life, he has to get in the middle of a drug deal with two gangs to save his current girlfriend. He risks his life knowing the possible consequences, just as the marine did. He knew what he owed to the world and he had to fulfill that duty, no matter the risk.
