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Suicide Love Letters

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One letter can be a coincidence, two letters can be a prank but a few next letters can be serious—mysterious. Theo, a nineteen-year-old teen, felt isolated at Autumnsfield. While his friends are out of town spending summer in the hottest way possible, he is stuck in town to manage their Café with his eldest sister Emma, while their parents are on a tour in Canada. Moonbeam's Café is being renovated for expansion and Theo was assigned to box every book at the Café's reading nook. A letter distracted his already messed up work tucked in a page of a book. Sneakily, he read the first letter without a single clue that it could change his whole summer into something mysterious—and lethal. With every clue, he tracked down the letters that contained deep and unlawful secrets about its writer, and with every read his feeling is affected.

Mystery / Romance
Age Rating:

E - Prologue

Dear Crush,

I’m not sure how long it will take before someone gets to find this letter. (Or maybe no one ever will. Not you, not anybody else.) But, whatever you read from here up to the very last piece of the letters that you will hopefully track, keep it as a secret.

And by secret, I mean, you may tell off the experiences I wrote here to anyone, but I am only giving you two reasons why; either to inspire them to live or discourage them to die. No one does that for me.

I think it’s important for you to know that almost 19 years ago today, a baby girl was born. Let’s nickname her Melan.

In a world of normal people, wishes for newborns are tremendously lovely and too exaggerated to come true; good health, good life, intelligence, good guy to marry, and the generic list goes on. Those wishes were probably casted when Melan was born.

But regardless of a person’s desire to live a good life, no one can deny that fate is cruel. It holds back wishes until it becomes words. Just pure, cut-and-dried words.

So, let’s hop back to the important things that you should know: One, ten days from now, Melan will turn 19 and two, ten days from now, Melan’s life will reach its due.

Maybe you are wondering but no, my name is not Melan. Though, I would love to. I’m still contemplating on whether I will introduce myself or not. Like it is ever important. I hate having to introduce myself anyway, and in case you care enough to know why, I think that it’s dumb.

Introducing yourself means giving off the most basic things about you; name, age, address, hobbies. In the long run, who cares about all those? For me, having to introduce who you really are as a person matters most, because people forget names, and ages, people change addresses, but they will never forget what you did for them. I think I’m not making any sense, I’m thinking out loud again.

I saw you for the first time outside Moonbeam Café, my favorite place, yesterday. You went out just as I’m about to walk in. You were wearing a navy blue, V-neck shirt, and yoga pants. Yoga pants in the café at 2:00 in the afternoon! Can you believe that? I can’t, that’s why I noticed you. You actually made me smile, for real. You looked half mad, half sleepy. Your black hair was a mess, but, damn! You looked hotter than Leonardo DiCaprio when he was a teen. Am I exaggerating? Well, you gotta smile that compliment away.

I love the night sky, crush. Jeez! I think it’s pretty awkward that I’m calling you crush, but if I’m literally talking to you, I imagine a conversation like this:

“Uhm. Do you mind if I, I mean, well, I know it’s a very old, cheesy style but—”

“Hey! You stutter a lot, are you vocally impaired or something?”

Something? WTF. That’s too gay! Okay, I’m starting to regret that I’m writing this shit in longhand, I could’ve just typed this. Now I can’t fucking delete. Let’s just, uhm, revise. So, let’s start now with you, interrupting me:

“Hey! You stutter a lot. Just go straight to the point, maybe?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Sure. Well, would you mind if I call you crush?”

So, you’ll chuckle a little bit and say, “crush? Uh, no, I don’t mind at all. Suit yourself.”

I think you’re that kind of guy. A suit-yourself kind of guy.

Anyway, the only reason why I love darkness is because it gives the stars a chance to shine. Moonbeam Café has that kind of ambiance. Like it gives some people, like me, a chance to shine (Not the kind of shine where I’m being noticed or stuff like that), but a chance to be who I am. Not a lot of humans do that to one another. Crazy, right?

When I saw you, I was way too focused, I wasn’t aware of what was ahead of me. And just like a predictable, stupid thing you see in a movie, I banged my head on the glass door. That gave my forehead a pretty good swell, but that’s okay, it was effin worth it! Okay, I hope I don’t sound creepy.

God knows how much I prayed you won’t look back to check what happened. But I guess it’s true, not everything a person prays for gets answered. You unfortunately looked back. Your eyes narrowed, not because you seemed to recognize me but because you were standing next to that advertisement board, and it was scorching hot. You smiled with your teeth showing. You didn’t smile at me, but at my stupidity. Up until now, I wanted to ask my stupid self if you guys shook each other’s hand and said “pleased to meet you.”

I know it sounds flirty, and I’m sorry, if I feel like I admire you the first time I saw you. Don’t feel too proud about it because really, it was just because of the Yoga pants. Though, that day, I wondered if I’d see you again. Well, I did.

I decided to write you this letter because, if I ever die, I want at least a single person to completely know my deepest secrets. And I’m choosing you. Because to you, I will remain a stranger and I know it won’t bother you that much. I won’t matter that much.

Hmm...I’m adopted. I’m still trying to figure out what happened to my biological parents. My adoptive parents didn’t know I found out about the adoption papers. They threw the documents up in the attic, where some of our unused stuff was stocked. I discovered it when I was sixteen, while I was hiding behind the tall boxes. I will tell you why some other time. Okay?

The day after my first adventure in the attic, I bought about one hundred pieces of glow-in-the-dark stars stickers, then stuck it on the wall, and whenever I don’t feel like being a resident of the planet earth, I would climb up on the attic and sit near the stars. It felt like The Stars Shined Down for me. Too bad the stars don’t shine like it did before now. It has been years.

I didn’t know how to give you this letter and I can’t. So, while writing this, a brilliant idea unexpectedly rushed in.

If you’re reading this, that means you found this tucked inside Edna St. Vincent Millay’s poetry book on the Poetry Section of Moonbeam’s Café’s reading nook. Yes, she’s one of my favorite poets.

I know there is at least 100% chance that this won’t reach the right person, but whoever you are, if on the next letters I will be able to figure out who my crush is, I would be very happy if you tell him that there was once a girl who got inspired and found a sheath of hope, because of his Yoga pants.


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