The waiting had seemed interminable, day after day, the young man's hopes rising and falling with the steps of the postman. Spring had turned into summer, and the summer days melted into fall, and still there was no letter.
On the first crisp day of October, as Mr. Sullivan raked the fiery maple leaves from his yard into long rows along the gutter, and Mrs. Jackson leaned over the porch rail and shook the dust from a throw rug, the postman made his way down the street, slowing as he reached the yellow house with the picket fence, its gate ajar, as though it were waiting for just this moment.
As the postman turned into the gate and made his way down the sidewalk, the front door swung open, and the young man cautiously emerged, stepping onto his porch as the postman extended a letter towards him.
The exchange wasn't lost on Mr. Sullivan or Mrs. Jackson, and after a quick glance at each other, they made their way towards the yellow house, but as the young man opened the envelope, they stopped, Mrs. Jackson's hand reaching out to touch Mr. Sullivan lightly on his arm, neither hardly daring to breathe.
The young man slipped a letter out of the envelope, his eyes sweeping swiftly across the words, his face expressionless, and with a glance at his neighbors and the postman as they stood watching, frozen in place, he silently returned to the house and softly closed the door.
Linking up with Ivy at Uncharted for Six Sentence Stories with the prompt "letter."
Oh, now I'm sad, too. Well-written, Dyanne.
ReplyDeleteOhh, thank you, Kristi!
DeleteBUT I want to know more! Turns out you pollyanna's go deep! Damn! good stuff! Hey I messed up the time on the link...sorry... its up now... thanks for being patient with me Dyanne... and wow... youre good at this!
ReplyDeleteThank you so much! At least my husband isn't as freaked out this time!
DeleteEmma wanted to know more, too. She said she hated the story, because it reminded her of gifted class, when the kids were always asked "What do YOU think happened?"
I'm curious to know what the letter said.
ReplyDeleteMe, too, Romi!
DeleteWhat's in that letter? But I don't mind thinking it's none of Mr. Sullivan or Mrs. Jackson anyway and maybe he just didn't want to share it with the neighbors. Good story, Dyanne,
ReplyDeleteThanks, Val! I think everyone in his neighborhood knew what he was waiting to hear about, and they hurt with him.
DeleteIt's no one's business but his, but you've managed to build up the curiousity to a fever pitch!
ReplyDeleteI wish I knew what was in that letter, too! :) Thank you!
DeleteSqueeee!!! Thank you!!!
ReplyDeletenice! (as in 'jeez I wish I could do that!'…lol)
ReplyDeleteAw, shucks, you could do it, too.
DeleteOoooh! Such a good story! I so want to know more but I know sometimes the story is so much more interesting if the end is left to the imagination. Sadly, my first thoughts were of a negative outcome but maybe, just maybe, he went inside and whooped with glee????
ReplyDeleteThanks, Sandy! I like your thought that he went inside and whooped happily!
DeleteDon't keep us all waiting to long for the 2nd installment!
ReplyDeleteI have to do a sequel?!
DeleteIn a small community of neighbors we do tend to live each others lives and gossip is so gossip is spread thus disappointment is felt by all.
ReplyDeleteI like to think the neighbors cared deeply for him and were there to share in either his joy or sadness.
DeleteWay to keep us guessing!!
ReplyDeleteThanks!
DeleteARGH! Great writing and I so want to know what's in the letter!!
ReplyDeleteME, TOOOOOO!!!
Delete