Fab Four Fables: Dying to See You

Fab Four Fables: Dying to See You

January 9, 2013 Writing 7

It’s time to restart the Fab Four Fables my friend Eric Storch of Sinistral Scribblings started last month. This time it was my turn to start. I will tag one of 3 others-Eric Storch, David Wiley, or Shannon Potts–at the bottom of this post, along with the rules we are following this time around.

Title: Dying to See You  Genre: Thriller

Hazel didn’t care there was no return address on the pristine white envelope. She opened it with excitement anyway. The only mail she’d received of late despite the ad she’d placed in the paper several weeks ago consisted of bills she couldn’t pay and coupons to restaurants she couldn’t afford to dine at, so when the unmarked white envelope addressed to her arrived, she did a little dance right there at her mailbox.

Her body quivered a little as she slid an unlined piece of paper from the envelope. The folds in the paper were crisp as if it was folded with precision. Whoever had sent it had meant it especially for her. She felt bubbles of giddiness float through her chest. She opened it carefully, not wanting to disturb the crispness. A soft musty aroma drifted from the open page, enchanting her nostrils, and taking her mind off the letter for brief moment as the vision of a dashing young man filled her mind. Her heart began beating erratically, evidence of a crush developing on this mysterious figure. Her sigh chased the fantasy away, and her eyes returned to the letter still waiting in her hand.
My Dearest Hazel,
       Please meet me at 1973 High Street at noon tomorrow. I’m dying to see you.

                                                                In Highest Regards,
She  paused. Where the print of the letter was neat and legible, the signature at the bottom was not. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t make out a single letter of the name at the bottom.

Doctors have such sloppy handwriting, she thought. She didn’t bother wondering why a doctor would be reading the want ads of the hopelessly unlovable to begin with. Instead she pressed the letter to her nose, drinking in the smell of his cologne, and spinning around the room until she collapsed on the couch dizzy with glee.

The day couldn’t pass by quickly enough for Hazel. She tried knitting. She tried watching television. She tried to engage her few friends on Facebook. She took a walk around the neighborhood, even stopped for a short while to watch the children play at the park. She went back home and grabbed some bread, stopping only once to pick up the letter and press it to her nose again, before going back out to the pond to feed the ducks. She stopped by to check on old Mrs. Butters and engaged in a lively chat with Mrs. Butters’ granddaughter, Chelsea, who was visiting from abroad. By the time she returned home, she was exhausted and it was still only 7:00 pm. She made herself a simple salad for dinner, added extra bubbles to her bath, and curled up in her large four-poster bed with her favorite book and Mozart on CD to help her drift off to sleep.

She awoke to the warm rays of the sun on her face and the serenade of robins in the pine tree outside her window. She picked up the letter from her side table, now tattered and torn, clenched it to her breast, and inhaled deeply to catch the fading scent of the cologne. She closed her eyes and let her daydream take over again, drawing her into a world of rainbows and sunshine with a tall, dark, handsome, and doting man. The white picket fence surrounded a creamy yellow house with white shutters. Two tow-headed children ran out the white door carefully dressed, the girl’s ponytails bobbing as she chased her brother down the sidewalk, one ribbon askew and ignored. Her dedicated husband pulled into the driveway in his white Lexus at precisely 6:00 pm, gave her a peck on the cheek, and sat down to his still hot from the oven supper. A secret smile was exchanged between them as he moved to the living room…

The musical chime of her cellphone brought her crashing back to reality. She sighed wearily as she picked it up.

“Hi, Julia.” she said.
“Hey, Hazel. The girls and I are going to the lake and we want you to join us.”
“It sounds tempting but I’m going to pass.” She worried that revealing her lunch date to Julia would somehow jinx it, so she said nothing.
“Why? You haven’t hung out with us in weeks. Did you start a new job or something?”
“Or something, yes. Anyway, I really need to get ready to go. Thanks for the invite. I’ll check in when I’m done and see if you are all still there later. Bye.”

Two hours and twenty minutes later, Hazel was ready. She blew a kiss to her cat and locked the door to her apartment. She took one more look at the map before logging the address into her GPS. She was delighted when the GPS revealed the location to be one of the hottest new diners in town. It would be the longest twenty-minute drive of her life. Saying a quick prayer for light traffic, she pulled out of the parking lot and began her journey.




1. No one will be privy to the story until it is posted.

2.The next person won’t know who they are until they are tagged, when the post goes live.

3. The person publishing the most recent part must adhere to the following:

  • choose the next person to write the story
  • keep the title and stay within the genre provided
  • provide an image of their choice at the top of their post that relates to their piece
  • the story must continue as a whole and not combined with any other prompt or meme

4. There is no word count or time limit.

And in this spirit, I tag Shannon to write the next piece.

Thanks for stopping in! I welcome and appreciate your feedback. Please share your thoughts before you leave.



7 Responses

  1. David Wiley says:

    What an excellent post to kick off the second round of Fab Four Fables! I’m super-excited to see what Shannon chooses to do with this one. Your descriptions made her life and her daydreams come alive as I was reading.

  2. stankmeaner says:

    Great beginning, SAM. this is the kind of girl I kind of want to hug and shake at the same time, this’ll be fun 😉

  3. Eric Storch says:

    This is a great set up, though you say that she only touched the letter once more throughout the day and by the next morning it’s crumpled and torn. I assume she didn’t sleep with it because it’s on the nightstand when she wakes. A clue to future events?

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