Chapter One - The Beginning

March 3rd, 2017

B-1, 32, Craigworth Street, Northon. Did this place exist? She didn't know. Would her package reach somebody? No answer. Did she even want to know? No. But why was she thinking so much? That address came to her, almost like a voice saying, "This is the one for you, sweetheart!" If it would be found, it would be found. If not, then not. It was all fate.

It started raining as she was but a few steps from the post box. Why did the sky cry today? Did she have a hand in its distress? She hoped not. She really wanted a clear conscience before it all ended.

The post box, the box that would decide her fate, was here now. Or would it? Hadn't she already decided it? But would she let it act? Would she post the package? She shook her head to get rid of the thoughts. She would. And why wouldn't she? Did she have any reason? Any at all? It had to be done.

She lifted her hand. She lifted her hand and posted the letters. It was done.

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March 5th, 2017

"One Large Cappuccino!" Wilder called out.

"Another order of the same!" Chad, the guy in the next counter yelled.

"A Java Chip, Katelyn." Wilder strained his throat. He turned to look at the forest green clothed blonde blending the chocolate chips into the rest of the drink she was preparing. They had become steady friends in the short three years he had lived in Northon. Katelyn was one of the only people he could trust in this town. 

He smiled as she beckoned him over to switch places. Everyone knew Katelyn hated preparing the drinks and Wilder loved it. No humans. No speaking. Only him, and his beautiful thoughts. And of course, the chocolatey, coffee covered whisks and caramel coated cups. 

"I did the Java Chip, Wild. You can begin with the Caramel Frap." She smiled.

"Okay. Thanks, Kat." He lifted his arms and stretched. 

Northon was a calm town. It was nothing like the metro city he came from that was always buzzing with life and energy. But it was cheap and really close to his college campus - what else could he ask for? His job didn't pay enough to let him afford any luxuries. Had it been his hometown he wouldn't have been able to pay for the necessities. But Northon allowed even an occasional treat. Northon was a good town. 

But living in a small town had its problems. His sister, who had skipped higher education for her own startup couldn't really see any scope for expansion here. Living away from Wren, his twin, was a huge heartbreak for Wilder. But he couldn't see another option. 

He looked down at his watch. Only five more minutes and he could go home and work on his assignment. With school in the morning and work during the afternoons, he usually had to pull all-nighters to finish his assignments. But Wilder was a proud A grade student. 

'Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!' He reached down and pressed the tiny button on his watch that shut the alarm. He felt relieved. The assignments had to be submitted next week and they were really hard.

He bid goodbye to Chad, the guy at the counters and kissed Katelyn's cheeks in a completely platonic way before leaving. 

The walk home was rather lazy. That thing writers always pointed out about country air? The laziness? It was real. Mrs. Snow, the blonde passed him in her black sedan and stretched those red lipstick covered lips. Wilder always had a hard time smiling at people. Maybe he was naturally grumpy. Maybe he was anti social. He didn't like to think about it.

But the real  surprise was waiting for him at home.

A package.

There was a brown, unorthodox shaped package on his doorstep that day.

It was his first package in years. His parents had disowned him, and he had no friends in his hometown. Not that he minded being alone then.

But he did mind this random token of love from someone who didn't sign their name on it. Was the address wrong? Was it delivered to the wrong place? He had no answer. But he had to take both, the package and his internal questionnaire inside for now. It was going to rain.

B-1, 32, Craigworth Street. Pickering. The address seemed to be correct. But who sent it, and from where? There seemed to be no return address on the thing. Was it for somebody else in his building? Not possible. He was the sole resident. Heck, even if he wasn't, the flat number was his.

He got a minute to look better at the package as he entered his apartment, that had peeling brown wallpaper as its identity. The package was a rough cross between a circle, square, and a staircase. It was thick, but surrendered when he pressed it. He decided to open it.

Inside, there was a bundle of envelopes and papers held together by a piece of string. Attached to it was a dry orange tulip. In one corner was a paper, rolled, sitting lonely and sad. He decided to open it first. It didn't make the whole situation any less perplexing.

Dear reader,

So this letter wasn't for anyone? Was this some kind of practical joke?

I don't know you, and you don't know me. Yet you're reading this. Isn't it beautiful? I'm handing over the story of my life to a complete stranger. I don't even know whether you exist.

Who mailed this, and were they insane?

If you do, then, Congrats! You hold in your hand the letters I wrote to my sister Adelaide, and you have all the rights to open them and read them, because they'll never reach her. Why? Because I didn't mail them to her. Simple. I mailed them to you.

Why was he even reading this? This was not getting any less confusing.

So, I know for sure you are not Adelaide. At least, not my Adele.

But back to you. It was simple, really. All I did was write a random address on the package, and then let the Fates work their magic. When I wrote this address, I didn't know that a place like this existed. I just wrote. So now, these letters have reached you, and you hold the story of my life in your hands now. If you don't want to read it, well, I really didn't think of that. Do what you want with this package.

He was intrigued. It was stupid, but he had always been a sucker for mysteries and confusing letters and tapes and whatnot.

But if you do read this, then read carefully. That is all I have to say. And learn. Read and learn. Believe me, you won't regret it.

This letter was almost like a dream come true. His very own Agatha Christie style, incredible, impossible mystery. He was going to read this. And if it was like this person promised, he wouldn't even regret it.

Love, 

Gem.

Author's Note

Whatcha think?

Reviews

[Shasha]

This one is great, I am really impressed by the way you write! Going to chapter 2!

[Vasilees Sybissyl]

Thank you for the beautiful review!

[Soumya Deouskar]

Woah! I can't say whether the old or the new one is better, this is just awesome! Waiting for more!
Especially I liked 'Agatha Christie style' use!
When will be the next chapter out?

[Vasilees Sybissyl]

Thank you so much! The next chapter comes out tomorrow. Watch out for it! Thanks once again!