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.
“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.
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.
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