Fiction - Page 1
-------------------------------------------------------------------
The
following selection comes from a student of mine in response to an assignment to
create a 25th chapter to Nathaniel Hawthorne’s The Scarlet Letter.
Enjoy!
–Mr. D.
by
Kelsey Cowdell
The midmorning light streamed through the open windows and the noise of
the bustling
My Dearest Mother… I began and felt a sharp kick in my swollen stomach. I
put my hand over my stomach and continued to write.
The baby is coming along just fine. Can
you believe that it has been seven months since I found out about this miracle
growing inside of me? John is well as I write this. Would it be possible for you
to make my little darling some baby clothes? I am reminiscing about the
wonderful, colorful clothes of my childhood, and I want my own child to
experience the same loveliness. I hope this letter finds you in good health.
Your
Loving Daughter,
I
closed the letter up and sealed it with my mother’s signature wax seal- a
scarlet A. Standing up slowly so as not to disturb the baby too much, I put the
letter into my pocket and threw a shawl around my shoulders. I headed out the
door and onto the cobblestones on the street below. I hurried along the streets
towards the post office, looking behind me every so often at the sound of
footsteps mirroring my own pace. Curiously enough, it appeared that a man was
following me. I tried to convince myself that he was solely on a main road, like
I, and headed into town. In an effort to lose him, I sharply took a turn down a
small alley. The man continued to follow me, so I picked up my voluminous skirt
and paced myself faster than before, as fast as someone who is as pregnant as I
can run.
“Halt!
Mrs. Richton! Please, halt!” The man called down the alley. Stunned that he
knew my married name, I stopped in my tracks.
“What
do you want?” I questioned.
“I know about you,
“How
do you know about me?” I asked, my voice shaking slightly.
“How
do I know about you? Well, you are speaking to Roger Chillingworth the second.
My father told me so much about you. I have finally found you after so many
years of searching. So it is true then? You are the child of my father’s
cheating wife?” I could not believe what I was hearing. I refused to believe
it, actually. I had hidden my past
so exquisitely; I thought only my husband knew my past. Shock coursed through my
body in electrocuting currents. I got ready to speak but when I opened my mouth
no words would come out. Taking a deep breath, I tried to speak again.
“I’m
sorry, but you cannot be Roger Chillingworth II. My mother had no other
children, and therefore, you cannot be the child of Roger Chillingworth and the
only woman he was ever with, my mother.”
“You are correct
“And
why Roger? Why have you sought me for so long?” A beat of silence passed and I
held his gaze.
“Well…
a few reasons actually. For one, I was simply curious. Who wouldn’t be curious
to meet the child of sin who was raised Puritan but cast off her strict values
when she came of age? Second, I wondered if my father was simply making this up.
It seemed the plot of a fairy tale, told to satisfy my wild imagination. And
last-
“Roger,
I believe you.” I proclaimed with a wide smile adorning my face. A small smile
creased the corners of his mouth and soon changed to a wide grin.
“I
cannot tell you how much this means to me that you have accepted me. After such
a long search, it is nice to know that the elf-child my father wrote about
blossomed into such a gracious woman. May I accompany you on your journey to
town with you, as opposed to a step behind?”
“Of
course you can, Roger. I’m sure you would like to know about how I have been
living for the past ten years. I will tell you all about my life on the way to
the post office. I am mailing a letter to my mother. When we arrive at the post
office, a post script will be added to my letter, telling my mother all about
you.”
“I’d
like that, thank you.” Roger smiled and took my arm to guide me out of the
alley. Stepping into the sun of the main street, I wondered how one trip to the
post office could be so fateful, how one half hour could change your entire
life. Looking at my new found friend, I realized that it was the unexpected
encounters and connections that made life worthwhile.
----------------------------------------------------
I woke up an unknown amount of time later. My head hurt a lot. I sat up and looked around. By looking to the left, I saw the big window in the front of the right one. As water dripped down my face, I looked to my left. There was the girl I’d seen before I’d passed out.
“Daddy,” She called, her voice echoing slightly as voices tend to do in vacant houses, “He’s awake!” I cringed at the yelling.
“Oh sorry,” She said, noting my cringe. “I forgot, you probably have a headache.” She picked up the wet rag she’d placed next to herself and wiped it across my forehead. The cool water felt good on my agonized head.
“I’m Chris,” I said groggily, “I live across the street.”
“I’m Erin,” She said, her hair contradicting her Irish name, “I live here.”
Seamus came down the stairs, his voice echoing as he called, “We’re not getting sued, are we?”
“Nah,” I said as he entered the room, “As long as you tell me what happened.”
“Well,” he said, “You were spacing out and the mover decided to start dropping boxes. One of them hit your head—right above the neck. We thought you died.”
“Nope,” I said, “You’re not lucky enough to have me dead.”
“Don’t say things like that,” Seamus said, “You never know what might happen to you.”
Seamus went back upstairs, presumably to put more stuff away. Another look around told me that everything was all set up. In fact, I was sitting in a completely furnished room. Tommy walked in.
“Jeez, how long was I out cold?” I asked.
“About two hours,” Tommy said.
“That’s it?” I asked, “How did you guys get all this stuff set up in two hours?”
“We’re fast.”
“Nobody’s that fast,” I said.
“We are.”
To Be Continued….
----------------------------------------------------