STORY STARTER

Submitted by Quill To Page

Write a short story or poem that starts with a letter.

It can be a death threat or a love letter, a mission or a murder. It could be any letter, but make it integral to the story.

To My First Love

**_My dear Simon,_**__

_When I met you,_

_I couldn’t help but notice how strange those glasses looked on you,_

_how peculiar your hairstyle was,_

_and how beautiful all the chains and bracelets you used to wear looked on you._

__

_When I met you,_

_I never thought you’d be interested in me—_

_much less that I’d become obsessed with the way you smiled at me._

__

_When I met you,_

_time stopped,_

_and I think that’s what captivated me._

__

_When I met you,_

_I didn’t know that one day I wouldn’t be able to live without you._

_That breathing without you by my side would make everything feel heavier._

__

_When I met you,_

_I wasted time judging you and closing myself off._

_I should have opened up to you_

_to finally be honest with myself._

__

_When I met you,_

_deep inside I knew—yes._

_That if you hadn’t walked through that door, I wouldn’t be here._

_And if you hadn’t spoken to me, things wouldn’t have ended like this._

__

_When I met you,_

_I never imagined all the blame would be mine,_

_and that instead of growing tired of me,_

_you’d fall for me so deeply, it would consume you._

__

_When I met you,_

_I wasn’t ready to love,_

_to be loved,_

_or to be left behind._

_But now that I am…_

__

_Please, come back._

__

_. . ._


- It’s too late - I heard from behind as I placed the perfectly made letter on the coffin.

I sighed and closed my eyes, feeling tired.

- He has always been patient. -

I said as I calmly started checking my pocket, looking for my final gift.

- He was, Maria… - I stopped just for a second as I heard my name from the other woman’s mouth. But I quickly continued my search- And you know very well this was your—

I didn’t heard the last word, it’s difficult to hear when you shoot yourself at an almost empty graveyard.

And even now that I’m not in that plane anymore I think I can figure out what she said, she wasn’t wrong.

It was all my fault. Forgive, Simon.

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