the crimson letters

The leaves had just begun to turn crimson when Maylene Lear received the first letter. She did not comprehend who had written it because the return address was one that was impossible. It was her own. The name of the sender, she thought, was also impossible. Nobody had known the horrors of her past. As she sat sipping her one-milk, two-sugars, coffee at the table, her daughter came running down the stairs.
Her daughter’s name was Valerie, a fourteen-year-old only child. As Valerie saw the distraught look on her mother’s face she immediately said, “Mom, what’s wrong, you don’t look well?” As she said this, more leaves fell from the trees outside onto the cold autumn pavement.
“What…Oh sorry,” Maylene said, “nothing’s wrong dear, what can I fix you for breakfast?” The look on her face was not convincing.
Valerie had understood, it was not something she wanted to talk about. “In that case” Valerie said, “I’ll just have some toast, I’m going to be late for first period.”
Mrs. Lear slowly got out of her seat to pull out the Wonder bread bag from the cabinet. As she pulled it out several pieces of white bread fell to the floor leaving an empty red, yellow and blue sack limp in her trembling hand. When Valerie saw the mess she immediately said, “It’s okay, I’ll just have a muffin”. With that she put on her red and black school bag shouting as she left, “I’ll need help with my math assignment tonight!” As the door shut behind her an ever so small scarlet leaf slipped through a crack in the door and landed on the floor unnoticed. Maylene Lear was left alone, once again, with the dreadful letter on the kitchen table.
Maylene sat still, in her bathrobe, in the family room for hours mesmerized by the letter. She did not dare to open it. She thought of Pandora’s box, but knew this must have been a joke. She went to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of, room temperature, red wine. As she sat back in her leather couch, she placed the already half empty glass on the coffee table, along side the letter. When she gazed out the window she could see the tree branches brisling in the cold autumn wind. It was then that she decided she had to open it.
The name on the letter was inscribed in thick black letters that spelled out Seth Pauley. This was not her father, her brother or anyone in her family, who was alive at least. Seth Lear was the name of her would be son. Sixteen years ago, before she had met Valerie’s father, she was engaged to a businessman, Jason Pauley. They were to have a child together, until he beat her so hard one night red fleeted from her womb, and Seth Pauley gave up his ghost.
This tragic event was something Maylene had put in her past, until this letter arrived in the mail. Nobody knew about her and Jason. Jason did not know she had planned on naming their son, her son, Seth. Maylene always wanted a son. She thought to herself “how can this be?” With this in mind she got out her letter opener from the wicker bowl beside the couch. She drove the dagger shaped device into the envelope and shred it open. The contents of the letter were shocking:





Dear Mother,

I understand that this letter may be shocking to you, but before you put it down, please read on. I am your son Seth; this may seem impossible, but let me explain. I am your son in an alternate universe (or something like that), but here, you were the one that died, not me. I found bridge between our worlds, like a wormhole, leading to the tool shed in your backyard; this is how I found you. I have not attempted to put myself through the hole yet due to the risk. I will however attempt to do so if you would like to see me. I know this must be difficult for you so I will leave it at that. If you would like to see me leave the letter inside the shed and I will be able to see it. If so, I will set up a time tomorrow to meet you. Please believe me.

Love you mom,

Seth Pauley

P.S. I want to meet Valerie, look after her.

When she finished reading, Maylene threw the letter on the table, knocking over the glass of red wine. The wine soaked through the one page letter, and began to drip onto the floor. Her head fell to her hands, just as a leaf outside fell from the tree to land on the dying autumn grass. All she could think of was the curl of the S in her son’s name. The door opened.
Valerie came running in, as her exuberant self always did to embrace her mother. When she saw the wine and her mother’s tears, she tossed her bag to the side and said, “Oh my god, mom, what’s wrong, what happened, are you okay?”
Maylene said in a whimper, “G-g-go away, don’t worry about me”.
Valerie was not willing to accept this. She went to the bathroom grabbed some tissue and began to clean up the mess of red on the floor. Her mother then became hysterical.
“Get out of here now! Go to your room and don’t come out till I come get you!” screamed Maylene.
With the damage done, Valerie too began to cry and ran to her room. Inside her room she sat on her Ikea comforter and tried to compose herself. She looked around her messy room. Shirts and jeans tangled on the floor, books unread on the shelves, posters of 80’s rock bands, and a window with no curtain. This was her liberator. It opened out to her backyard. There stood a black, naked tree on the right side of the lawn with read, yellow and brown leaves surrounding its roots. On the left, was the tool shed. The roof was covered in only crimson leaves, while the base was surrounded by yellow and brown vegetation. It was on her window ledge she sat until her mother entered the room at eight that night.
“Val, I’m so sorry for yelling at you, I-I, got a letter today that upset me and I took it out on you.” Maylene said with her best attempt at sympathy.
Valerie did not care if she meant it; she only wanted to see her mother happy. “It’s okay mom, do you wanna to watch a movie?” Valerie questioned with a tone of warmth so affectionate it was like the sun on a summer’s day.

Maylene said with a colder tone, “sure dear, whatever you want”
“Night of the Living Dead it is then”, this was her favorite movie.
Before the movie rolled the opening credits, Maylene went to the backyard tool shed. She opened the door and placed the letter, still with a red tint, gently on the floor and thought to herself “I love you Seth, please come to me”.
As the zombie’s began to retreat, Valerie was already asleep, while her mother thought only about Seth. Valerie awoke to the blast of a rifle which ended the film and said to her mother in a sleepy voice, “I’m tired, goodnight mom”. She stumbled up the stairs in a zombie like manor to sleep on her Ikea comforter.
Maylene sat alone in the dark, awaiting Seth’s second letter.


Valerie woke up to a tapping. She thought at first it was just the sink in the bathroom beside her. The tapping persisted. She immediately pulled the covers tightly over her head and tried to hold her breath so as to not make a sound. She knew someone, somewhere close, was watching her. She could feel their presence.
After several minutes of fear and panic, she decided to look out of her liberator, the window with no curtains. What she saw was not the jet-black sky, what she saw was crimson red, and it was not falling leaves. Two big red eyes were suspended in the dead of the night. She was too terrified to breath, think or scream. The eyes were calm, yet sinister. After several moments, which felt like years to Valerie, she let out a blood-curdling screech, “Mom! Help!”
Mrs. Lear ran into her daughter’s chaotic room to find her huddled in the corner, beside the unread books, trembling in fear of the monstrosity at her window. Valerie said to her mother in a voice of true terror “It was at my window, it had red eyes, it was looking right at me!”
Maylene looked at her disapprovingly and said, “I knew those horror movies weren’t good for you.” She paused and saw her daughter still horrified and began again “Now you shouldn’t cry ghost and boast when you hear a strange sound, or see a strange sight. Go back to sleep dear, there are no flesh eating zombies at your window”. Maylene exited the room as a player in a play would exit a stage.
Valerie stood up and, very slowly, made her way over to her window. Her heart was pounding, and her mind was racing. She looked out of her window and saw the red eyes looking up at her through the night. She did not sleep that night.
Maylene did not sleep that night either, but for different reasons. She had tossed and turned all throughout the darkness and finally when the sun came again, she decided to get out of bed and wait for the mail. As she walked slowly down the stairs, there had already been a new letter placed perfectly on the kitchen counter beside a coffee. One-milk, two-sugars.
The site of the letter alone was frightening, but the coffee was too much. She thought to herself “could this be someone playing a trick on me? Did someone break into my house?” She quickly grabbed the dagger like device and tore the envelope clean with one slit, and began to read her son’s handwriting for a second time.

Dear Mom,
I am so happy to see you placed it in the shed. Please come meet me there at around seven o’clock tonight. Also bring Valerie please. I know she does not know about me but I want to meet her. I always wanted a sister. Take care of her, as I know if I had a mother I would want her to take care of me.

Love always,

Seth

The curl of the S stuck in her mind. After rereading the letter what must have been a hundred times, Maylene gazed out of her sullen, open, front door. She saw several scarlet leaves fall on the porch of her suburban home. She took no note of them. All she cared about was her son, Seth. Her daughter came down the stairs that morning, lacking her usual high spirits. Maylene said to her, “’morning dear, I hope the zombies didn’t get you” in a convicting voice.
“Not funny mom, I really did see something last night,” retorted Valerie. Her tone was still full of terror.
“Well that’s nonsense dear, monsters don’t exist, Nothing from movies are real, paranormal activity is simply illogical,” Mrs. Lear said, not trying to calm her daughter down. She continued “Now I have something special to show you, so be home by seven tonight.”
Valerie mumbled, “I’m going to Steph’s house after school to work on the math assignment you didn’t help me with, so I’ll be home at five on the dot”. She grabbed a half toasted slice of Wonder bread, unbuttered, and slammed the front door behind her. Maylene was too busy reading the letter another time to notice her daughter’s anger.
Maylene Lear sat all day, anxiously awaiting the chime of her grandfather clock to ring seven times. It was getting late in the day and the grandfather clock began to belch, “Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding”. It was not yet seven, she still had some waiting to do. Her mind was a jumble, like a giant jigsaw puzzle waiting to be pieced together.
Doing everything she could to keep busy, she eventually resorted to cleaning the cellar. From there, she could not hear the clock, nor see outside. She had become so obsessed with waiting and cleaning she forgot the time, when she finally realized this she climbed out of the cellar door, and ran inside to find a clock. It was half past seven, her heart sunk. “Did I miss my son? My God I hope not!” She grabbed the letter opener, but cast it aside after realizing again, nobody else knows about Seth, her son, her boy.
Maylene ran out to the tool shed. Past the open back door, looking across the backyard, seeing the sullen black tree on the right, and to the left, the tool shed. The blood colored leaves covered the tin roof, while around the base was yellow and brown. She sprinted, hoping her son would be there still.
As she turned the doorknob, butterflies sank deeper from her chest to her stomach. The unknown beyond the door was starting to worry her. She thought to herself “Will Seth be there?” and as she opened the creaking wooden door, she had her answer.
What she saw shook her to her bones. Shivering she gazed. Shattered was her heart. In front of her was the most horrifying event she had ever bared witness to, worse than losing a son. Valerie was suspended in the air, hung by her neck in the middle of the tool shed. Her features were ghostly white, and blood dripped from the ceiling down to the floor, Like crimson leaves falling from a dying tree. Her eyes, gone, her lips, removed, her corpse slashed and bruised. Rigor mortis had begun to set in. And then she saw it.
Inscribed on the wall of the shed, written in blood, Valerie’s blood, were the words “We abhor you for what you have done, you buried your daughter and prayed for a Son”. The S in the word son was the same S as in the letters from Seth. “Oh God, what have I done?” she said in a voice of terror equal to her deceased daughter.
She turned to exit the shed as quickly as possible to avoid having to look at this horror any longer. Out of the darkness she saw big red eyes moving towards her. All the red leaves had fallen from the big black barren tree.