Hidden Letters, Part 1

Preface

 

Dear Reader,

I discovered the following letters over the span of three weeks after moving into a house in Hume Park, Club Road, Belgaum. The house has black double doors in the front and back, gray walls, and a faded red roof. It looks tall from the outside, and you might think it’s a two-storied building until you step in.

The letters are mostly made of scraps of pages torn from what I later confirmed to be a diary. The clues that consistently appear at the end of each letter became fairly easy to solve when I realized that each clue was written in the voice of the object or location harboring the next letter. I have unveiled the answers on the last page.

As attached as I’ve grown to the letters, I wasn’t meant to keep them to myself, so I hope you enjoy the ride.

Yours truly,

N. N.

 

 

“I maintain the habit of keeping a diary so I can know what I was thinking and how I was feeling, without it being distorted by time.”

– taken from Arya’s diary

 

 

A few weeks after moving in, I got this letter by mail. Funnily enough, it seemed to have been sent from the same place it was addressed to.

– N. N.

Dear ___________,

Hello. I don’t know who you are, but welcome to your new home. You are the latest lucky/reluctant resident in this beautiful house. I was the last, and there are memories I have stowed away in a few corners and crevices, that I’d like to share with you. These little anecdotes are part of a small adventure that I hope to give you, if you decide to follow up on this clue. If you choose to ignore it, you may still stumble across bits of paper in time, for which I apologize.

I can’t promise you astonishingly fantastic things, like in books or movies, but in the moment you are reading this, part of me is reaching out across time and space to you.

 

Here we go:

Red-faced; ashen when I work hard,

Living on a strict diet of biscuits of wood,

I’ll be waiting with your next clue.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _

 

Sincerely,

Arya

 

Tail-Ends of Conversations

Dear Readers,

I know I’ve been gone a while. Here’s a little something to show for it. Hope you like.

Paper and ink,
I always think,
Are never to be left alone.

Tail-Ends of Conversations

Whimsical Dining Room Ceiling

 

Tiny Bobblehead

It’s happened more than once;
My gaze turns strange
And a face shrinks
Till it looks miles away
In an expanding room.

I half-expect
Time to freeze
But you keep bobbing.

 

Limited Freedom

And to be fair
I’ll let your candid spirit set me free
Beyond the oceans and the graves
But only for a minute;
I never pretended to be brave
Like you.

 

Never Change

So, you found something
Something you didn’t know
Not an earth shaker
But, it kept you up all night?

In this day and age
You’d rather wonder
Than Google;
How precious, I say
Eyes full of smiley tears.

 

Yoville

It’s a pixelated world
With people to match
Bored, lonely and caring,
Much like the other world,
And riddled with scamsters
Who prey on the new
And the gullible.

 

PC

It’s the box;
It holds
A giant watchful eye.
It reads my soul
And swallows me whole;
It tells me what I’ll like,

Where have you been all my life?

 

4113-9991-2214

Should I be surprised
To find calling cards
Scattered on the floor
Of a casino parking lot?
Which flavour of beauty would you like?

 

Compulsive

The counting of thoughts;
It bothers me.
More of the same;
Add it to the bundle.
Just another,
Just another;
I’m being crushed.

 

A Simple Life

Passed and forgotten,
Remembered and missed,
Crudely denied,
Sorely suppressed.

A life lived.
Simple,
Yet twisted
In a million ways.

 

Familiar Footsteps

‘Tharump’
‘Tharump’ ‘Tharump’
‘Tharump’ ‘Tharump’
Scrunching my nose;
Don’t like this path
Beaten it one too many times
Reached the point of doubt:
What was the initial pull?

Left a sticky mark on me
When I should’ve left
After leaving mine.

 

Summer Braids and Serenades

Oh!
Summer braids and serenades,
Start the mint train
With the dainty wheels
That treat the pavement right.
An old friend knows why
I can’t climb a bicycle
Without thinking of tea leaves and rain.

 

Yours whimsically,
Anna Nymus

Welcome Back, Veronica Mars!

What would you do if a movie based on your favourite TV show was being made, years after its cancellation? If the answer is anything other than spontaneously combust, there clearly isn’t an excitable fan in you.

Veronica Mars

Veronica Mars (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I’m thrilled to know that a certain snarky sleuth will hit the big screen next year, and hope you can be a part of making it the best it can be. I’ll just leave a little link below, in case you’re interested. Fair warning: there’s less than 24 hours to go before the funding ends.

http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/559914737/the-veronica-mars-movie-project

Signed,                                                                                                                                                                     a marshmallow

Locked

keyshttp://ermiliablog.wordpress.com/2013/02/24/__picture-it-write-53/

One day, a girl set out to college. She did her major in Procrastination and a minor in Introspection. She found what she was good at and where she had to struggle. She searched for the reins controlling her life and stumbled across things like “post-modernism” and “existentialism”. There were others in the same hunt, torn by the same questions, doubting every step.

All the while she was handed skills that were supposedly the key to success. She focused on sharpening the ones she found fun, and the ones she thought she might need to survive.

Then one day she pondered the meaning of success. What was it? Why was it so important to get it? What would the key open?

The homework piled up until it was sticking out of her bedroom door and she sat defeated, head in hand, waiting for the rain to wash away her stress. Questions and doubts about everything popped into her head.

A few deadlines and nights of high speed typing later, she still doesn’t have too many answers. But she knows she’s never going to know what the key is until it opens something.

Signed,

Me