The Letter

The girl shut the door firmly behind her. It was made of shining oak and had a painted golden eye upon it that would watch her retreating form long after she stopped thinking about it. Outside the Reading Room, the sullen man who had shown her up through the long passageways, up twisting staircases, and around sharp bends, until the girl was certain they would never find their way back out, was waiting patiently for her. His grey face was no longer hanging in perpetual sadness but was filled with a bright warmth that had not been there when she’d been shut into the Reading Room. He took off down the hallway and the girl found herself half running to keep pace with him. Her Reading had been successful. The overly bright passage now seemed to have taken on a heavenly glow and the girl couldn’t help but smile gently.

On their way, they approached a woman who was shivering in front of an identical wooden door to the one the girl had just exited. She too had been escorted to it by a sullen looking older gentleman. He was in the middle of speaking as they passed.

“Before you go in, I am obliged to give you one last chance to reject your Letter. Once you pass this door, you have agreed to accept all that will come to pass. Do you still wish to enter?” The girl felt the familiar knotting in her stomach from when her own guide had spoken the same words to her just over an hour ago.

For a moment, when she’d been asked that question, the girl had allowed herself to imagine what would happen if she chose not to go into the room. If she allowed herself a moment of selfishness and followed her escort back through the maze until she reached the outside world and left this place behind her forever. She could be free, live a long happy life. But, then an image of Mama’s tight smile at the breakfast table had flown into her mind, her Papa’s tired fingers cutting mould from the last few slices of bread and worse of all her little brother, sat eagerly at the table, swinging his feet in hole strewn shoes. No matter how much she had feared the Letter and what it could contain, she couldn’t turn her back on her family. The possibility that it might be their only salvation had been too great. She’d no other choice but to enter.

Part of her wanted to utter assurances to the woman but she knew it would do no good. Coming from a girl who had clearly just received a Fortune, assurances would only sound like gloating. Instead, as the woman glanced at her passers-by, the girl offered a kind smile which the woman acknowledged with a small nod. The girl didn’t linger to hear the woman’s response, her guide had not checked his speed and was walking away briskly. She knew without him she would be lost and at the mercy of the halls.

Catching up with her guide, the girl allowed herself to turn around one last time, long enough to see the woman pull a crisp white envelope from her pocket. Then they were around the corner and the woman was gone from sight. The girl automatically tapped her right pocket, feeling for her own Letter. Her heart leapt when she came up empty but then remembered that it was now neatly stored on the shelves of her Reader’s study along with the Letters of all the others for whom her Reader had read.

Letters were rare. Most people would pass their whole lives and never even see one. The girl had not only been lucky enough to see one, but she had also been the rare recipient of it. The Letter contained either of two options. More often than not, Letters contained a Fate. This was the result of foul deeds committed by ancestors who had bargained for their future family to suffer the consequences of their actions. The years of built up punishment and pain culminated in a long life filled with shame, isolation, and self-loathing for the recipient of the Fate, forever to be the scourge of society. But for a few, the lucky few, the risk of eternal damnation paid off as within their Letters, there lay a Fortune. It was something of value either physical or spiritual that a relative had passed down with specific instructions in order to help or save their future offspring. They were rare and the only reason why anyone would risk going to a Reading, in the hope that their Letter was one of those lucky few bequeathing them with money or deeds or anything that might help them live a better life. No-one was permitted to read their Letter before their Reading, anyone who entered went in prepared to suffer but hoping to inherit. Most people decided the risk of a Fate far outweighed the possibility of a Fortune and so rejected their Letters, never even entering the building.

She thought back to her own Reading. Her Reader had been a woman a little younger than her Mama with rosy, apple round cheeks, plumped by the smile stamped across her face. She sat behind a sizeable desk at the heart of the room which in turn sat mounted on a dark red rug. It was clear of any debris save for a little black notebook, no greater than her hand, and a solid gold fountain pen.

“Hello, dear.” Her voice had been almost as sweet as her childlike face.

“Ma’am.” The girl had attempted a polite curtsy, as befitted her station.

“Oh, please, none of that.” The woman had waved away her sorry excuse for a curtsy. “Take a seat.”

The girl knew never to ignore the order of a Reader. She’d moved quickly, sitting awkwardly on the armchair the woman had gestured her towards. It had been extremely comfortable and the girl had made a conscious effort not to allow herself to sink into it.

“Comfortable?” An amused smile had replaced the woman’s practiced one when the girl blushed and nodded. “Good. Now, do you have your Letter?”

The woman had held out her hand expectantly. The girl had hesitated, clutching the Letter tightly between her fingers.

“Come, dear. You holding onto it like that won’t change the words written inside of it.” She had known this of course, but it hadn’t stop her from hoping as she’d placed the Letter into the well-manicured hand. As it landed, the Reader’s palm had dipped and her eyes widened.

“My, this is a heavy one.” She had exclaimed.

The girl had felt her blood run cold. Heavy? What did that mean?

“I can’t tell you how many people come in here with resealed or fake Letters. As if they can fool us.” The girl couldn’t imagine many people even having the nerve to step inside the building willingly, let alone try and cheat their way out of a Fate and into a Fortune. The woman had fixed her gaze on the Letter, clearly concentrating and the girl had taken the opportunity to survey the room. Her eyes had been drawn to the large shelves that papered the surrounding walls, where upon hundreds of envelopes had been neatly filed away. Each one had been read. Where were the owners of these Letters now?

“Well, everything seems in order.” The Reader’s bright voice had broken her out of her reverie.

The girl had watched in transfixed horror as the woman drew a small blade into her hand and cut into the envelope. As she’d pulled out the slip of paper within, the girl had closed her eyes and waited for the cold clawed hands of judgement to claim her as they had most others. The girl hadn’t known how badly she’d wanted to live a good life until then.

But it hadn’t come.

The girl had opened her eyes to see the Reader beaming broadly at her.

“Oh, I hoped it would be a good one.” Then proceeded to read formally. “Mr William Esterforth, your twelfth great grandfather bequeaths upon you, his first twelfth great grandchild, the sum of $20,000 upon your eighteenth Life Day with the request that you use it to live your life out in the Sun.” The girl stared at the woman, wide eyed.

She had been almost certain her relative would have been a vile, selfish person who had put himself before anyone else. Most others did. But there they were, the words were clearly written before her. Mr Esterforth, $20,000. God, $20,000. That was more money than she had ever seen in her life. It was enough to buy two cars let alone a new pair of shoes and a loaf of bread.

“This must be some sort of mistake.”

“There are no mistakes, dear.” The woman smiled kindly. “Only those who are brave enough to accept their Letters and risk themselves for the future they want or those who refuse to take these risks out of fear and are haunted with what ifs for the rest of their lives.”

The girl hadn’t felt brave in any way, only relieved.

“Now then, if you could just sign here.” The woman had presented her with the little black notebook, opening it to a fresh page with the words ‘I, Ms Esterforth, hereby accept my Fortune’ printed upon it. “Legal matters, you understand?”

The girl had signed without hesitation.

$20,000. Mama would never have to hem another dress to make it last years beyond what it was meant to, Papa would never have to crawl the sewers and search for leaking pipes amongst the city’s filth, nor would her beautiful little brother have to go to bed curled around the pangs of hunger aching through his stomach. And her? She could finally just live.

She had been so lost in her thoughts, that she hadn’t noticed they had returned to the lobby until her escort came to an abrupt halt at the wooden double doors.

“Thank you for your visit today, Ms Esterforth. You will find your Fortune has been placed into your bank account and is fully accessible to you.”

“Thank you.” The girl smiled, uncertain what else there was to say. It seemed there wasn’t much else because he flung the door open and gestured for her to exit through it. She did just that and the door slammed sharply behind her. She sighed blissfully as she felt the cool city air stroke her cheek.

As she straightened her Mama’s blue coat, a man dressed in a sharp suit elbowed past her. His black clothes contrasted with the white stony glare of the building. While not the height of fashion, his clothing was much more refined than her own. It didn’t have the tell-tale signs of too many wearings and not enough money to buy a new one. He had something to lose and far less to gain. He paused at the door, breathing heavily, before pulling out a slightly crumpled envelope. There were heavy creases where his thumbs rested like he had spent hours clutching it desperately. Had he broken the rules and looked inside? By the way he was breathing and hesitating, she guessed not.

Just as she thought he was about to knock and accept the risk; he turned and made his way to the letterbox on the right side of the building’s door. With a shake of his head, he pushed his envelope inside the flap mounted with large golden letters spelling REJECT. Then he walked away along the ashen street, shoulders hunched, hands deep in his pockets, melting into the rain. Her gaze followed him until he was out of sight and then she turned in the other direction towards home. She smiled as she saw the Sun beginning to peak through the grey clouds.