The Haunted Wordsmith has a story tag which she starts and then passes the baton. You can continue it to where you want! There are no set number of days/ blogs it must run so anyone can choose to finish it or extend it. This is her start to the story and the following progress so far:
I have been tagged to write the next part by The Britchy One from Bitchin in the Kitchen
(Finish The Story Oct #3) ‘Number 604’
David had been a postal clerk long enough to know not to think too much about what people receive in the mail. Under normal circumstances, he followed that unwritten rule, but Number 604 and their numerous mysterious letters, parcels, and the monthly large case wrapped in plain brown wrap fed his curiosity. All the mail ever delivered to Number 604 was stamped with vintage stamps, wax seals, and no return address. If that wasn’t enough, David swore that many of them were addressed with quill and ink or other calligraphy pens.
It was another sweltering day in the city, and as David made his rounds, the heavy postbag kept slipping off his shoulder and hitting the ground. He was very happy to see his last stop because that meant the bag would be empty for the mile walk bag to the postal truck.
David slipped the mail into their proper slots while singing to himself. He stopped mid-song when he turned over an old battered envelope with vintage stamps and found the wax seal had broken after being dropped so many times. With a quick glance around to make sure he was alone in the building’s lobby, his fingers teased the envelope flat.
Should he or shouldn’t he? Did he dare risk losing his job because he was curious about the mysterious owner of Number 604? What on Earth could have been in all those letters and packages?
Job be damned, his fingers slipped under the envelope’s lip and opened the envelope revealing …
The single sheet of paper, so thin, like parchment, seemed to jump into his hand. He looked over the spidery handwriting and realized that no one ever wrote like this today.
My Dearest David;
It has taken so long for you to succumb to your curiosity. During this time I have waited and waited.
I realize that this is confusing to you, but know my love, I have been waiting throughout the cycles of time for you. Every life you have lead moved you further and further away from our love. Now though I sense that you are ready to find me.
I shall wait upon the cliff where first we met.
Please my darling, don’t make me wait.
David stared at the words written and began to feel. Warmth. Desire. Memories teasing, just out of reach. He began to fold the letter up, realizing that he must deliver it. However, did he have to? It was actually addressed to him, even if the address was to Number 604.
David did not realize that he was being watched. That through the peephole of Number 604 a brilliant green eye gazed upon him. Crimson lips, wet with saliva, parted and a whispered breath whistled. She hoped that he would succumb, he would take the bait. For she had waited a long time to…….
Bitching In The Kitchen
…see him fall into her trap. As she looked at him, she allowed herself to wonder at her self-restraint. She had hated him and planned her revenge for so long and the waiting had taken its toll.
She was all alone now. Her parents, broken after her sister Tanith’s disappearance had given up on lives and died of broken hearts. Dave’s refusal to speak of the events of that day had destroyed her family. Two young kids, they’d gone into the haunted house but only one returned. Finally, she could make him reveal the events of the day.
She watched him read the letter. She knew he couldn’t resist the mystery, it was what had drawn him and Tanith to that haunted house after all. She knew he’d go to the cliff and she knew she’d be waiting to meet him, ready to…
Kristian F’s Addition:
extract from him his final confession, before exacting her revenge.
She was more than just her sister, she was her twin. They had done everything together until Dave had come along. He’d taken her away and then lured her into that place from which she never returned. She had felt the moment when her life had left her body. She had never felt whole again.
For years she had dwelt on it, wanting and desiring her revenge. It was pure chance that had led her to cross paths with David again. Serendipity that had caused her to move into this neighbourhood and made David her postman, and she was not going to let this bit of good fortune pass without taking action.
She ran upstairs to change into a more appropriate outfit. She could see from her balcony window that David was walking quickly back up the street. Would he go home to change, or would he rush straight for that lonely stretch of cliff?
She opened her wardrobe and put on her black tracksuit and grabbed the crossbow that she’d been keeping for just such an emergency.
She thought she had prepared everything but…..
I think I will tag my pal, Kristian of Life Lessons from around the Dinner Table.
I have also included the following Word Prompts:
FOWC with Fandango — Balcony
Kristian W’s Addition
When she reached for the crossbow it wasn’t there. She flung everything out of her closet searching high and low for it, she knew she had put it in there only yesterday, so she could grab it and run. She frantically searched her house, thinking maybe she put it elsewhere and she was slowly losing her mind. She searched behind the sofa, under her bed, she even checked the freezer as she had once placed her car keys in there. She chuckled at the thought, “Of course you wouldn’t put a crossbow in the freezer, Tanith.” She said to herself.
Molly, her corgi was looking at her as if she lost her mind.
She grabbed the only other weapon she owned, a Model 70 Winchester rifle that had once belonged to Tabitha, the only difference they had, Tabitha loved to hunt.
“I can make this work.” Tanith said to herself. “I must finish this, only then will the spell be complete, only then can I save my sisters soul.”
She took one last look in the mirror and set off to the cliffs to await David.
Only when she got there David was already waiting for her, crossbow in hand….
To continue this story, I nominate The Eclectic Contrarian.