Letters to a Ghost

A misty windowpane with raindrops, where the reflection shows the ghostly figure behind the modern woman as she reads the letter. The words "Letters to a Ghost" appear embossed on the glass.

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Chapter One: The Forgotten Box

The attic smelled of dust and old paper, the kind of scent that clung to memories. Clara had only meant to clear out her late grandmother’s house, but the wooden box tucked beneath a stack of yellowed newspapers stopped her. It was small, carved with delicate roses, and locked.

Her fingers trembled as she picked it up. The key was hidden beneath the velvet lining—her grandmother’s signature hiding spot. With a click, the lid opened, revealing a bundle of letters tied with a faded blue ribbon.

The first one was dated June 12, 1972.

"My dearest Eleanor," it began. "If you’re reading this, I’m already gone. But I need you to know—I never stopped waiting for you."

Clara’s breath caught. Eleanor was her grandmother’s name. But the signature at the bottom wasn’t her grandfather’s.

It was signed, "Always, Daniel."

Chapter Two: The Man in the Photograph

The letters spoke of a love Clara had never heard of. Daniel was a journalist, her grandmother’s first love, who had died in a car accident weeks before they were to be married. Eleanor had never spoken of him.

At the bottom of the box, Clara found a photograph. A young man with dark windswept hair and a smile that crinkled his eyes stood beside a vintage car, his arm around a beaming Eleanor. On the back, in faded ink: "Summer ‘71. Forever."

That night, Clara dreamed of him. Not as a still image, but alive—laughing, speaking words she couldn’t hear. When she woke, her cheeks were wet.

Chapter Three: The First Reply

Clara couldn’t explain why she did it. Maybe it was loneliness, or the strange pull of the past. She took out a sheet of paper and wrote:

"Dear Daniel, you don’t know me, but I found your letters. Eleanor kept them. She never forgot you."

She tucked it into the box, half-expecting nothing.

The next morning, the letter was gone.

In its place was a new reply—in handwriting she recognized from the old letters.

"Clara," it read. "You can hear me?"

Chapter Four: The Ghost in the Shadows

Daniel’s letters began appearing daily. He spoke of small things—the scent of rain, the book he’d been reading before he died ("Have you read it? Tell me how it ends."), the way Eleanor used to hum off-key when she cooked.

Clara wrote back, pouring out her own loneliness, her failed engagement, her restless heart.

Then, one evening, she saw him.

A flicker in the hallway mirror—a man standing behind her, just for a second. When she spun around, the air was cold.

"You’re really here," she whispered.

The next letter was urgent. "I can’t stay much longer. There’s something I need to tell you."

Chapter Five: The Last Letter

The final note was slipped under her door at dawn.

"Clara, I wasn’t supposed to fall for you too."

Her heart lurched. She ran to the attic, but the box was empty. No more letters. No Daniel.

Except—on the windowsill, where sunlight pooled, lay a single rose. Fresh, dew-kissed.

Impossible.

And yet.

Epilogue: The Letter She Never Sent

Years later, Clara published a book—Letters to a Ghost—about a love that crossed time. On the last page, she included a letter she’d written but never sent:

"Daniel, if you’re listening… I still wait for you in my dreams."

Sometimes, when the wind rustled the pages, she swore it sounded like laughter.