Dear Neighbor
Dear neighbor,
Welcome to the neighborhood! Meeting in person is a bit difficult due to certain… circumstances, so I thought I would write a letter instead.
I live down the street, taking a left, then a right at the next junction. A lovely place. Yes, the area is perhaps a bit underdeveloped still, and it is all shrubs and trees and a dilapidated house, but that’s all I really need. Besides, my quiet, overgrown street is a great place for you to walk your dog, don’t you think?
She’s a cute one, your little critter. So small and yet so long, and the color of coffee. Her name is Mocha, isn’t it? It’s adorable how she comes running whenever you call her name. It’s also so amusing how, as soon as you turn the corner onto my street, she’ll stop in her tracks and refuse to take a single step forward, no matter how much you tug at the leash. Oh, the poor thing!
It’s a shame she won’t come any closer, but her hesitance is to be expected, I suppose. Animals in general aren’t very fond of my old estate, I’m afraid. Only the ravens dare show up, and they make such a ruckus. But I digress…
Our neighbors, I believe, are very friendly. I don’t leave my street very often (I’m something of an introvert, I’ll admit) but I do hear them hosting all sorts of fun parties for one another, especially in the summer. The children are a rambunctious bunch, but they mean well. One time they came over for a visit unannounced, then started screaming and running the second they saw me. Who else did they expect to find in my own living room?
I suppose I should simply be grateful they can even see me. For, as matter of fact—and I’ll admit, though explaining this to you is the main purpose of my letter, I’ve been a bit roundabout with the subject so far—adults cannot see me at all. I have something of a condition…
(…I believe ‘ghost’ would be the appropriate term, though I’m not very fond of it.)
We have run into each other on the street several times already, you and I. But no matter how much I try to wave, you see right through me. A true shame; I genuinely believe we could be good friends. Everyone else avoids my house, but you seem completely unbothered by what others claim is an ‘eerie atmosphere’. At the very least, if you’ve ever felt a chill down your spine while walking Mocha, you’ve never shown it.
If you’re willing to humor me, I would love to converse with you, even if only through writing. I’ve been in this neighborhood for a long while, and I’d be more than happy to share all the details about the way it was back when I was alive, and how it’s changed over the years. Should you like to take me up on the offer, you can leave your reply in the old mailbox in front of my house. Surely you’ve seen it already: its bright red paint, though mostly chipped off by now, still stands out amidst the bushes. Nobody has touched it in, well, decades, but it should still be functional, if a little rusty.
Thank you for your time, and apologies if this all sounded a bit outlandish. I hope I can call you my ‘pen pal’ one day soon!
Sincerely,
Elizabeth (or, as the children call me, ‘Old Beth’)