Circe’s letters

Trigger Warning: implications of death, sexual violence and Mental Health issue.

Paul’s last meal

Paul was sitting in-front of a table with a blue cloth on it. The cloth was covered with oil stains. He avoid to lay his hands and arms on it while taking food from the white plate. There were some potatoes, some broccoli and a meatloaf. He had taken a few bit of the meat, but it tasted too weird. She probably had put it in this temperature for at least three days, he thought, as his sweat rolled down from his forehead.

“Pace up darling.” Said Julie, wiping his sweat with a red, over-washed handkerchief. “We don’t want them to see you.”

“I don’t think there is any problem anyone seeing us together.” Said Paul as he stuffed a mouthful of Potato, smashed with green broccoli. “And you should throw this away. Smells rotten like the meat. It old as fuck.”

“No, darling, I love its smell,” She breathed from the handkerchief, feeling getting fresh air in a forrest. “And please do finish the meat, I spend a lot of time on that recipe. I want the plate clean.”

She wiped out the squashed vegetables by his lips as he said “throw” and “fuck”, before he took another bite of the meat. He believe that it could be worse if not cooked throughly. Possibly from a pig, stupid animals, he thought.

“Ugh, when’s the last time you wash your plates? And I can smell something really bad. Hopefully it’s not from the meatloaf.” He complained.

“Dead animals from around, I think. There are some wolves around, so don’t be scared if you see bones on our way out.” She got a little inpatient, “Now harry up, dear, I can’t wait forever.”

“I know. You think I am going to be scared? Ha, no way.”

“Better be, darling.” She patted on his back. “I am gonna get some things. Finish it, sweetheart and leave the plate on the table. Don’t choke yourself to death, darling, wouldn’t want that this early.”

She left and came back with a flowered basket covered with a red wool blanket. Paul have done with his meal. They left the cabin together. The sun was still up.

Later that night, Julie sat at her porch. Under the dim light next to her, there was the handkerchief hanging there to dry.

The watch men walked pass and said, “Greetings, Ms. Julie.” He smiled brightly.

“Greetings, Mr. Myles.” replayed Julie, “any good news?”

“Nope, just another wolf attack.”

“That’s really sad.” She stood up and picked up the handkerchief. “Well, I better go inside and keep myself save. See you tomorrow Mr. Myles. ”

That sweet smile. “Wait!”

“Yes?” She turned.

“I…it’s nothing... I just like your handkerchief. Take care!”

“Thanks. You too.”

She went inside. The empty plate was still on the table, with a fly standing on it. She took the plate and covered her nose with the handkerchief. She went to the basement, where in a closet, there were two stacks of unwashed, empty, white plates.

Paul’s broken glass

How much can an empty glass witness? I know, a lot.

I sit on the table empty, almost everyday, for that Mrs. Harris drink a glass of cold water every morning. Sometimes, there are fruits next to me, who would taught me the language of the humans. They have heard a lot and understood a lot. They are also from different places.

One time, an apple from told me that Mrs. Harris’s neighbor, Mrs. Corman cheated on her husband. The apple said that she was regretting of doing so when picking up her apple brother. She nearly cried. Then, Mr. Harris found her, asking if she have time that night. She drop down the apple brother, turn and answered, “no, Mr. Harris. ” And they walked away, too far for any apple can see.

Mr. Harris has always being a rude man. He always slap Mrs. Harris, for many reasons. She don’t cry, don’t shout. All she ever do was take me, and get another glass of cold water. I guess I am her best friend. Some times she cry to me, “he didn’t do anything wrong, just bad temper. I can make him his favorite steak tonight. That would make him feel better. ”

She did cooked steak those nights, and Mr. Harris forgave her. He kissed her. He kissed her hard. And pushed her into the room with him. She was laughing and, I don’t even know.

Things like that always happens. I was glad that she got happy in the end.

But one day she changed.

That day, the banana tell me that she squeezed her when Ms. Hartson told Mrs. Harris something. Bananas have bad hearing, which is sad. But after Mr. Harris Insulted her and slapped her in the face this morning, because the coffee she make was not hot enough, she didn’t take any water. Mr. Harris left to work as usual. Mrs. Harris stared at him till he was blocked by the door. Then she picked me up, and said to me, “He is wrong this time, he is. He don’t deserve anything. I can’t be like this anymore…I can’t. Something have to change.”

It was…confusing for me, an innocent glass. The bananas called me innocent.

I don't smell steaks tonight. But I hear somethings and see that too.

When Mr. Harris come back he asks, “Where’s dinner? I am starving as fuck, serve me.”

“No dinner tonight.” Ms. Harris replies, sitting in a chair. I think she might be crying even though her sound was calm. Her head is down, so I cannot see.

“What do you fucking mean, Nora Harris.” He grabs her chin, finger sink into her face.

Normally she would close her eyes and say sorry, but this time she hasn't. “No dinner means no dinner, Mister.”

His throat was breathing fire and his eyes can believe what they saw. He steps back while she forward.

“What happened to you, bitch!” He punches her stomach, and she fall back in pain.

“It’s what happened to you. You know what you done…”

“What!?”

“With Mrs. Corman…”

“Did she tell you that? The whore!”

“No, I figured it out! You…cheated! On me!”

“So what? I do that all the fucking time! If this is what you’re pissing about, shut up and make the fucking dinner!”

He must has hit her a thousand times more, bumping her head to the wall and crashing her ribs. She can’t believe what she heard.

“You raped her! And you, you…you are…”

Her fist into his stomach.

“She was willing to do so. She came to me. It’s her fault! You’ve got to understand all this, baby! We talked about this.”

“No! It is your fault. All your fault! When my cloths disappeared and when you forgot to come back for dinner and when you gets mad when I wanted to have dinner with the Neilsons and scared of inviting Diaz’s teenage daughter…You beast, you monster!!! And…and…”

She crows up from the floor. Her tears stuffs and blinds her eyes. “I…am…getting some…water.”

She comes for me. She holds me tightly.

“No, You’re not!” Shouts Mr. Harris. He takes me strongly from Mrs. Harris’s hand.

“Paul Harris! That’s my gla..”

He crashes me on the floor, and I can hear nor see no more.

Paul’s burning letter

One bright morning, a letter reached Ms. Julie.

Dear Julie,

Thank you so much! No words can express my appreciation. I am indeed sad for losing him, crying every day and night. But my neighbor and I have left the city and that place I used to think as home, to somewhere new. We will be each others support to get through this shadow. Again, I can’t just un-marry him, nor forget the lovely moments. I will consider this as an accident. Maybe, no, sure, this is for the best, to lose him ones and for all. Your existence is irreplaceable. I will thank you once more. Feel free to burn this if it says too much about your career.

Your good friend,

Mrs. Harris Ms. Nora Reed

Ms. Julie lighted a match, but she hesitated. Do I really want and like to do this? She thought. Here and now? No doubt what she done is meaningful, but so many lives just…gone? What have they done to deserve this? She knows better than anyone. But is she “irreplaceable”. Or can someone else take her place. Maybe she do not want to live in this rotten mortuary, maybe she wants a life. A new relationship?

She put down the letter. She decided to go to the city nearby and find someone special.

She wore a bright yellow long dress with a orange flower on her shoulder and a golden, silk belt. She was light the sun. And her brown hair was washed and curled, and tied half-up. She drove to the city. It has been quite a long time since she last came here. The plate store was still there, with white plates, just like the one she gave everyone. She used to came out just for buying more of them, and of course, emergency petrols. She remembered how she suffered from fear the first few years and was always ready to run. That is when she find out that a guy walk through the forest every night. He said he was the watch men of the forest. She remember how fun it was to hide what she was doing from him. And how exciting was the business. And her strong believe of helping people. But now everything came to be doubted.

Where should I find him? She thought. Just then she realized she had no idea where he lived, worked or liked to be. All she could do was wonder around the street, smiling at those men hitting on her. She wished to find him.

The sun was getting down. Didn’t he go to the forest at this time, she thought, so I should stay close to the forest for him. She didn’t know what got into her that made her willing to wait for someone truly. She didn’t know why suddenly this man matters. She didn’t know…

“Ms. Julie?” He came. Finally. “Greetings! Why…What brings you here, m’lady?”

His ocean blue suit reflects his blue eyes she never got to see this closely.

“Mr. Myles! Greetings to you.” She said, stepping closer on her high heels. “I am here to buy things, I guess.”

“You guess? Well, you look fabulous today, bright as the sun! May I take you…to dinner?”

“Yes, of course.” She couldn’t be more happy. “But don’t you have to do your duties as the watch man?”

“Not today, luckily.”

The ocean splashed on the sun when the light all went out. The flame was down, until it gets lighted up again.

The next day, Mr. Myles woke up seeing a letter on his pillow.

Dearest Mr. Myles,

When you see this letter I am on the train to somewhere you will never find. My house, if you go and check, would be burned down. I am deeply sorry for the forest.

Anyway, I just want to leave this message to tell you I enjoyed every minute and every second I spent with you. Although the love I have for you is deeper than the ocean and hotter than the sun, I am not ready for love.

And I want to confess. I am the wolf in the forest most of the times. I hope you won’t be mad at me.

Love, Julie.

He ran to the place he went every day of every week of every month of every year, just to see the lady who lives there. All he saw was it burning, burning, and burning. It was not just the house. It was his heart, her heart, and the two letters.

~The End~