The Postcard
Wonder Cards was a charming little shop near Lake Erie’s picturesque coast. The store offered a wide selection of postcards, ensuring that every customer who walked in would find a card that was perfect for them. Thanks to advertising and word-of-mouth, the shop sold tons of postcards.
The cards never failed to impress anyone who selected one because the person left with a postcard in a bag and a smile on their face. They all shared a common question: How would the postcard impact their lives? Could this affect them or someone important to them? The card shop had a minimalist design, with only postcards as their displayed items. Spiral displays showcased racks of cards, and a noticeable case near the cash register held the more valuable cards.
Amanda drove through the countryside toward her home. Her fingers ached from the repetitive motion of knitting, so she got into her car and headed towards the water, the salty air relief. She followed the coastline sign and drove to find a parking spot, the salty sea air filling her lungs. The sun warmed her face as she strolled, the sound of waves a soothing melody against the warmth of the sand beneath her feet.
She removed her shoes and walked along the beach, her toes sinking into the soft grains of sand, helping her relax and contemplate tranquil thoughts. With her red shoes in hand, she ventured deeper into the water. The sand glistened in the sunlight, and the waves shimmered in the sun. She noticed a flyer advertising Wonder Cards stuck in the seagrass as she strolled. The words on the flyer intrigued her, and she returned to her car and considered buying a postcard.
She entered the shop carrying her yellow leather purse. She recognized the postcard’s link to reality as she entered the store. The postcard she purchased gave her a newfound sense of freedom that she had never experienced before. Drawn to the cheetah on the front, she chose the card from the rack. The item spoke to her, and she desired to possess it.
Amanda, the youngest sibling in her family of three children, was the target of her siblings’ kicks and fists when her parents went out for evenings. Amanda got her black belt in Brazilian Jiu Jitsu as soon as she could afford it and was old enough.
The shop owner placed the card she had chosen into a bag.
As Amanda entered her home, the familiar warmth embraced her. She set the bag on her kitchen table, her hands already moving to prepare dinner, and the postcard slipped her mind. The candlelight flickered and cast shadows that danced on the walls. The gentle jazz of Nat King Cole illuminated their smiles, a loving counterpoint to their bond, as the mellow notes warmed the atmosphere. Harvey arrived after 5:00 pm, the scent of roasting meat already in the air, and dinner began at 5:30. They shared laughter and engaged in conversation, discussing the events of their day.
She told Harvey about her experience walking on the beach and showed him the postcard she had bought.
“Harvey, have you ever visited the Wonder Cards shop by the lakeshore?”
“No, I haven’t. Why?”
“Today, while strolling the beach, I saw a flyer advertising a shop. Intrigued, I checked it out and ended up purchasing a postcard featuring a captivating image of a cheetah.” She picked up the card and showed it to him.
“Wow, that is a nice card. Do you have a specific person in mind that you’d like to send it to?”
“Oh no! This card belongs to me. I’m going to add it to my collection.”
“Oh, yeah, cool idea. If you like it that much, add it to your collection.”
The rich Baked Alaska lingered on their palates, Harvey’s favourite dessert, as they swayed to the smooth, romantic sounds of Nat King Cole. With a last swing, he pulled her close, the warmth of her body against his igniting a spark that ended in a fiery kiss. They filled the kitchen with the sounds of plates and soapy water as Harvey helped Amanda, a symphony of cleanup—before it got too late. He leaned in, his breath warm against her skin, and brushed her lips with a tender kiss before turning and leaving to head home.
Postcard cheetah, sibling games: all the memories returned as she brushed her teeth. The vivid connection prompted multiple revisits today. She got into bed and tried to sleep. But those memories, like demons from her past, wouldn’t allow her to sleep for long. After a horrid night of sleep, Amanda awoke with tired eyes.
She wandered downstairs to the kitchen and found the postcard on the counter, removed from the bag. She turned the postcard over and saw three words written on it: ‘I’m watching you.’
Amanda called Harvey straight away. She was angry. “Harvey, what’s the big idea of trying to scare me like that?”
“Hey Amanda, How are you? What are you talking about?”
“You’re the only one it could’ve been who wrote on my postcard, and I don’t think it’s funny. You knew I wanted to put that card into my collection. How could you?” She scolded. “Although I must admit, I don’t know when you might have done it. Since I walked you to the door and we were together until you left. But somehow you did.”
“No, I didn’t. Please, Amanda, stop saying that,” Harvey pleaded. “I’m telling you, I did no such thing. Why would I try to scare you? What am I supposed to have done with your postcard, anyway?”
“Now I know it was you. You wrote that message to scare me so you could stay here with me, didn’t you?”
“What message? On the back of your Cheetah postcard? I’m telling you, I didn’t.”
“It said, ‘I’m watching you,’ on the backside of the card. I can’t believe you’d do such a thing. You frightened me,” she said with her voice cracking.
“Alright, that’s it! I’m ending this call; I’m not discussing this topic any further with you. Goodbye, Amanda.” He hung up. She flipped the card in her hands after hanging up the phone.
She sat at the table with her head in her hands. She wasn’t sure what to believe anymore. If not Harvey, then who?
Dinner preparations—chopping, stirring, and the sizzle of the pan—finally finished. She unwound with her knitting, the rhythmic click of needles a soothing counterpoint to the evening. Harvey and the card’s message consumed her thoughts. An hour later, she closed the downstairs curtains, checked the locks, and secured the house.
Having Harvey join her for dinner, she thought, would be awkward, but she needed to show him the card and put this mystery to rest. Amanda phoned Harvey and asked him to come for dinner to discuss the postcard further. She wanted him to see what she was telling him about the postcard.
She looked out the window, noticing the vibrant colours of the sunset painting the sky. The postcard lay near the coffeepot, with a pen lying across it. She turned the postcard over and reread it. “I’m watching you.” She tapped her fingers and shook her head in disbelief. The more she thought about Harvey’s lame attempt to stay overnight with her at her house by scaring her, the angrier she became with him.
She held the card and waved it at him, saying, “I’m giving you one more chance to come clean.”
“Well, I don’t know. Maybe someone wrote on them when you bought them?” Harvey shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know what to tell you, honey, but sorry, it wasn’t me.” Harvey’s gaze settled on her eyes and never left hers or blinked once.
His appearance convinced her of his honesty. She said, “I guess I’d better just show you what I’m talking about, then. Perhaps you have suggestions about how the message got there,” Amanda said. “I like the thought that the store owner may have written the message on the card before I took it out of the shop. It was already in the bag when I received it, and I left it in the bag when I got home without looking at it.”
“Good. Deductive reasoning helps every time,” Harvey said. “Let’s see the card.” He held his hand out to her for the card.
She handed the card over.
“What’s the mishap with the card?”
She took the card from his hand, turning it over to reveal the blank, unblemished surface.
“Oh, my God. It’s gone!” She gasped.
“What do you mean, it’s gone?”
“I’m telling you, Harvey, someone wrote a message on the back of this card. I found it there this morning when I came into the kitchen.
“I don’t know what to say. There’s nothing written on it now.” He looked back at her with a blank stare.
Exhausted, she collapsed into Harvey’s arms, dropped the card onto the table, and sat down. Harvey made a strong cup of tea for her, and with a contented sigh, she marked the last task on her never-ending list of chores; the lingering aroma of lemon polish wafted through the air from her afternoon’s labour.
Harvey skipped his volunteer fire meeting to remain with Amanda, who couldn’t figure out what was wrong with her. After they cleaned up the dishes and wiped the counters, she took her knitting, and they retired to her bedroom.
The knitting pattern challenged her; she furrowed her brow. She’d complete the afghan well before September’s fair. Preoccupied, she fell asleep. Harvey slept by her side. She drifted off to sleep with knit one and purl two running around her brain. She had tossed the card onto the table without a second glance, without giving it much more thought.
The next morning, they lingered before they got out of bed. The stillness before the day began was a moment they savoured, the silence broken only by the distant chirp of a bird. The alarm blared, jarring them awake, and they got out of bed, the room still dark. They were thankful for the new coffee pot’s pre-brew setting; they followed its aroma into the kitchen.
In the hall tree mirror’s reflection, a man stood on the porch, peering through their window. Sheer terror shot through her body with a bolt of adrenaline. An icy dread washed over Amanda as she considered the man’s intentions; Harvey yelled for her to call the police as he gave chase.
Phone in hand, she made for the back staircase leading to her childhood bedroom. Her anxieties swelled up, causing her to sprint the length of the first hallway. A frantic rhythm hinted at the terror to come, a terror echoing her past.
The memory of her siblings’ relentless pursuit sent a wave of fear through her; her heart pounded a wild rhythm against her chest. Each footfall, a heavy thud on the cold stone floor, solidified her belief.
A macabre shadow confirmed the stranger’s presence. Harvey in tow. She could smell their scents. She ran, jarring the creaking floorboards underfoot. Amanda negotiated the dark L-shaped staircase without a window and the top of the landing like a feline hunting prey.
She entered the hallway and passed a room on her left. She moved further down the hallway and entered another L-shaped room. The house’s largest room ran its length. She zipped through it on her way to another hallway. In the hallway, one—painted a faded blue, the other, a dusty pull string concealed the other, a chipped crimson, and a small attic entrance.
Amanda passed the heavy oak doors, their aged brass handles catching the light when she arrived at the head of the staircase. She saw the daybed covered with dolls and hid among the dolls on display. She squeezed her body between the bed and the wall, her head peeking like a doll’s face, but her body hidden otherwise. Amanda hid—in plain sight, her heart pounding against her ribs as she blended into the scene. Amanda hoped the intruder could not find her.
The terrifying image of the man spurred her to run down the front stairs and out of the house, her heart pounding in her chest. She had to choose: risk the angry barking of the neighbour’s dogs or brave the busy highway, dodging speeding cars and breathing in the choking fumes. Despite knowing that Harvey chased the man, anxiety enveloped her; Amanda’s torture by her siblings and the repeated kicks and punches to her torso and head all came rushing back to her.
Fearful whispers and forced apologies filled the air, heavy with parental wrath.
“Remember: it’s just a game,” they told her.
Amanda was confident about defending herself. She had taken all the self-defence classes. Yet she ran from the strange man rather than face him. Her mind raced. Full of questions about the man.
She expected Harvey to handle the man. He didn’t realize Harvey was as close as he was to the man. She headed towards the front of the house and the highway. He followed her, but before he could tackle her, Harvey shoved him to the ground and pinned him.
The man, unprepared for Harvey’s punch, faltered. Harvey maintained his position atop the man until the police arrived. The police subdued the man. They cuffed him and took him away. Harvey held Amanda. The ordeal was over.
He said, “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you,” Harvey said.
“I think he’s been in my house for days,” Amanda said. “He’s watched me sleep. What a creep.” “It’s all over now, honey. Don’t worry about that guy anymore. He’ll be gone for a while.”
Harvey stayed for dinner; he brought flowers and a postcard with a box, which he placed on her plate. Amanda saw the collection of gifts and gasped. She studied the card on the plate. Tears welled in her eyes. He tucked flowers into a vase. He knelt on the carpet, the floor cool against his knees, and opened the velvet ring box. She turned the postcard over; it read, Amanda, will you marry me?
Tears welled in her eyes as she choked out a tearful “Yes.”
