You Wouldn’t Know the Difference, or Would You?
It was something a little strange for her; to commit an action out of loneliness. She was always lonely. It was something she knew very well. However, being in a house with so many people somehow made her feel even more alone. She wanted to reach out in some way, to someone, to anyone, as herself, but she couldn’t. She was hated by all but one person. So, she decided to play a new sort of game but with someone outside of this place, someone who could never touch her, or so she thought.
She sealed the envelope and left it in the small box attached to the building outside where the mail man would (never)come to get the mail.
She was unaware that it had somehow returned and was now on the floor in front of the front door having been pushed through the mail slot. On the front the words, “Return to Sender” had been stamped. It was the only clue that whoever had written the letter, lived in the mansion.
On this paper I can be anyone I’d like to be, and you would never know the difference.
I could tell you that I was beautiful, rich, a duchess who had an army of thousands and just as many suitors, and they all equally loved me and would die to protect me. That would be a lie though. I could tell you that I am a common woman and that I live happily in a cottage outside of town with my loving husband and three children, and at night, we have dinner together and my husband and I read stories aloud until the little ones are asleep. That would be a lie. I could tell you I was a criminal who had killed many. I could say that I had contracted with a chain and that I had killed many because I had once made a mistake and lost the people I loved and who loved me because of it. That would also be a lie.
They are all lies, because they involve a single word: love.
I’ll tell you a last lie. I’ve never known what this word means. I have never known what it is like to use the word ‘love’ or to hear it or feel it. I’ve read about it in books and I’ve seen some things that I think may be close to it, but never for myself. I know I never will, and yet I’ve never wanted something more than this.
So I ask you what it means. How do I obtain it? How can I receive it?
Signed, Who I Would Like To Be,
You Who Is Loved
The letter was written in elegant script, something she had practiced on quite a bit, though she never really had too much of a reason for writing as she much preferred reading instead. It was trash, and she knew it, but she was sure the nonsense would tug at someone’s heartstrings.
She was only tricking herself at this game, however.
[ooc: This is strange I know, but this will be a thread in an exchange of letters and notes and (drawn)pictures, as long or short as you like. Basically, you are only communicating with her through paper. There will be NO INTERACTION with Alice/Alyss beyond what your muse writes to her on paper. For fun, if you want to interact with Alice, put ‘Alice’ in the Subject of your first reply, and if you’d like to interact with Alyss, put ‘Alyss’ in the Subject. Put neither if you have no preference. Do remember that the letter is anonymous however, so unless your muse figures it out along the way, they only know the writer lives in the mansion.]
She sealed the envelope and left it in the small box attached to the building outside where the mail man would (never)come to get the mail.
She was unaware that it had somehow returned and was now on the floor in front of the front door having been pushed through the mail slot. On the front the words, “Return to Sender” had been stamped. It was the only clue that whoever had written the letter, lived in the mansion.
On this paper I can be anyone I’d like to be, and you would never know the difference.
I could tell you that I was beautiful, rich, a duchess who had an army of thousands and just as many suitors, and they all equally loved me and would die to protect me. That would be a lie though. I could tell you that I am a common woman and that I live happily in a cottage outside of town with my loving husband and three children, and at night, we have dinner together and my husband and I read stories aloud until the little ones are asleep. That would be a lie. I could tell you I was a criminal who had killed many. I could say that I had contracted with a chain and that I had killed many because I had once made a mistake and lost the people I loved and who loved me because of it. That would also be a lie.
They are all lies, because they involve a single word: love.
I’ll tell you a last lie. I’ve never known what this word means. I have never known what it is like to use the word ‘love’ or to hear it or feel it. I’ve read about it in books and I’ve seen some things that I think may be close to it, but never for myself. I know I never will, and yet I’ve never wanted something more than this.
So I ask you what it means. How do I obtain it? How can I receive it?
Signed, Who I Would Like To Be,
You Who Is Loved
The letter was written in elegant script, something she had practiced on quite a bit, though she never really had too much of a reason for writing as she much preferred reading instead. It was trash, and she knew it, but she was sure the nonsense would tug at someone’s heartstrings.
She was only tricking herself at this game, however.
[ooc: This is strange I know, but this will be a thread in an exchange of letters and notes and (drawn)pictures, as long or short as you like. Basically, you are only communicating with her through paper. There will be NO INTERACTION with Alice/Alyss beyond what your muse writes to her on paper. For fun, if you want to interact with Alice, put ‘Alice’ in the Subject of your first reply, and if you’d like to interact with Alyss, put ‘Alyss’ in the Subject. Put neither if you have no preference. Do remember that the letter is anonymous however, so unless your muse figures it out along the way, they only know the writer lives in the mansion.]