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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Teens
- Theme: Drama / Human Interest
- Subject: Loneliness / Solitude
- Published: 04/27/2014
April 4th, Day 8:
Dearest Mara,
I hope this letter finds you well. I miss you dearly. Not a day goes by that I don’t shed tears for you. I have no regret for what I did, only for the impact it has had on you. Not only have you lost your mother, but having to grow up without a father as well must be terribly difficult for you. I trust your aunt is treating you well, and that things are going okay. Each night, before I sleep, I imagine you in a happier place. Better than the home I provided for you; better than I ever could provide. I imagine you wearing beautiful dresses and attending school; doing things that normal children do. If only I could hear back from you, and know these things are true. If only I still had you here, and could hold you in my arms. No, I don’t regret what I did, but I wish I didn’t have to be away from you. I miss having you close by and being able to protect you. I hope to see you soon.
Sincerely,
-Father
April 6th, Day 10:
Mara,
I had a dream last night that I was able to see you. I was set free from all my burdens, and managed to find you. I held you in a sweet embrace, and I didn’t want to let you go. When I woke up, I longed to go back to my dream. I tried to fall back asleep, but I could not. Each night I hope that dream will return to me, but I fear it will not. My long, mundane days are growing old and I wish to be free of them. I would give anything to be able to see you again, even if only for a few moments. I treasure the times I had with you in the past.
-Father
April 10th, Day 14:
Dear, Mara,
I have finally come to the truth that these letters will never reach you. They are collecting in the back corner of my cell, and I have no means of getting them to you. It was difficult for me to let go of that dream, but I’d rather believe the truth than hold on to a false hope.
-Father
April 15th, Day 19:
Mara,
It has been nearly three weeks since I was imprisoned, and I’m beginning to get to know the other prisoners. Directly across from my cell is a larger man named Gordon. He doesn’t talk much, and isn’t very friendly to anyone. He is a former city guard, and a strong alcoholic. I’ve heard mixed stories from the other prisoners, but they believe he murdered his wife and son in a rage after having too much to drink. In the cell to my right is a young man named Tyson. He has darker skin, and is not from here—doesn’t easily open up to anyone. He was a mercenary, and got caught when he was involved with some drug lords. To his right is a bony little fellow with fiery orange hair. His name is Elias, but he goes by Eli; says he hates his name. Despite his amusing appearance, he was a dangerous criminal and drug dealer.
How did I get mixed up with these people? I was a father and a husband; I never thought I’d end up like this.
-Father
April 16th, Day 20:
My sweet Mara,
I’m becoming frustrated with the way this situation is being carried out. The mayor of this city is too lazy to deal with the criminals himself, so he leaves it up to his people to do so. While we sit here and rot in jail, the “important people” have extended councils regarding each prisoner, what crime they have committed, and how they plan to deal with them. Each day, I see one or two prisoners escorted out through the heavy double doors. Whether they’re being set free or being executed, I do not know. I wait with great anxiety for the day my decision will be made. Either way, I want to leave this wretched place.
-Father
April 23rd, Day 27:
Mara,
Today is your eighth birthday. I wish more than ever that I could be with you. I’ve been cycling through all the mental pictures and memories I have of you, and can almost hear your voice. I can almost feel you in my arms, my hands running through your soft, brown hair as I look into your deep green eyes. It’s almost like you’re right here with me. Almost.
-Father
May 1st, Day 35:
Mara,
I woke up today to a disturbing sight. Across the narrow hall, in the cell opposite mine, Gordon had hanged himself with some sheets and extra clothes. To be honest, I don’t blame him. He had no family or friends, and was more than likely going to be executed anyway. I do feel bad for the poor man, though. I can still see his lifeless eyes gazing back into my cell, his limp body suspended a few inches off the ground. I had hardly known the man, and wouldn’t dare call him a friend, but it was disturbing for me to see him go like this. I’m beginning to wonder how much time I have left before my fate is decided.
-Father
May 2nd, Day 36:
Mara,
After seeing Gordon’s body, I was brought back to the night that got me into this mess in the first place. I remember the man who broke into our home in the middle of the night. He was an average-heighted man, not too heavily built. Your mother was the first to wake up and realize that something wasn’t right. I awoke when your mother left our bed, but I didn’t think much of it. It wasn’t uncommon for one of us to get up in the night. Moments later, when I heard her scream out my name, I threw the covers off and rushed out of bed...we lived in a corrupt city with many bad men. This wasn’t the first time our house was broken into. When he saw your mother, he threatened her with his gun. I tried to help, but I was too late. I heard an ear-splitting explosion of a gunshot in the quiet night air, and I rushed out to the kitchen to see her body fall limply to the floor, the intruder standing over her with a gun in hand. I immediately screamed out in rage as I charged at him and slammed him to the wall. We struggled for a bit, but he was smaller than me and was no match for me. I put my hands on his throat and squeezed as hard as I could, tears flowing down my cheeks as I did so. I did not let go until long after the man had slumped down to the floor, and lie motionless in my kitchen. I was breathing heavily as I finally released him, and stared at his corpse. Suddenly, I turned around and saw you, Mara. Your horrified expression still haunts me to this day. I tried to approach you, but you ran away, screaming. I don’t blame you for your reaction; I probably would have done the same thing if I were you. But hear me out on this, my sweet girl…I’m not a killer. I love you, and I only want what’s best for you.
-Father
May 4th, Day 38:
Mara,
I’m beginning to find that these letters are the only thing keeping me sane. The long days are growing longer. The sleepless nights seem to never end. I can hear your voice echoing in my ears, “Daddy!” It haunts me, and I don’t know how much more of this I can take. Eli was escorted out today. I don’t know if he was killed or set free, but he has not returned, and I don’t think he will. I’m still holding onto the hope that I may someday be able to see you again, but deep down I’m wondering if it is in vain.
-Father
May 11th, Day 45:
Mara,
Spring is here, but the biting cold of winter is still lingering. Today was a rainy, stormy day. Water began seeping through the cracks in the back of my cell early in the morning, and did not stop until later that night. I scrambled to move my letters out to a dry, open spot so they would not be damaged. I hope one of the ruthless guards does not see them and take them from me. They’re all I have left. I don’t know what I would do if I lost them. I’m huddled up against the wall in the thin sheet I have, trying to stay warm. I’m shivering violently, cold and wet. I think I’m going to become ill.
-Father
May 15th, Day 49:
I’ve come down with a terrible sickness because of the cold. I have a high fever and a violent cough. I haven’t slept for a long time; hallucinations and terrible temperature swings are keeping me up at night. Though my body needs nourishment, I haven’t eaten for days. I am weak, and can hardly write this letter. I just want to be done.
May 29th, Day 63:
Mara,
It’s been two weeks since I’ve written you. I’m finally over my awful illness, and have recovered my strength for the most part. Things are thawing out, and I can smell the fresh air each morning when I wake up. Tyson, the last of the prisoners I had gotten to know, was escorted out today. Though others have taken their places, I feel alone. What little familiarity I had has now been lost. I have no one left to talk to but you…and I’m only talking to myself. What kind of a madman am I turning into?
-Father
June 3rd, Day 68:
Mara,
I was quite distressed today when the guards moved another prisoner into my cell. I knew right from the beginning that I was occupying a two-man cell by myself, but I hadn’t really expected them to fill it with someone else. My personal space has decreased, and I feel quite uncomfortable having this man in here. He doesn’t talk much, but he’s in my space, touching my things. I don’t like that.
-Father
June 6th, Day 71:
Mara,
Something terrible happened today. My new cellmate found my letters to you and began looking through them. When I demanded he stop, he made crude jokes about you and refused to give them back to me. He began to mockingly tear one of them, and I lunged at him in a panicked rage, my hands to his throat. As we struggled in the cell, one of the guards was patrolling by and saw us. He immediately got between us and broke up the fight. After that, all my letters were taken and I was lashed in punishment. What few privileges and rights I had were taken away, and things became much stricter. Now I lie alone in a cramped cell with my feet shackled to the wall in heavy chains. I have lost everything. I just want it all to end…
-Father
September 1st, Day 158:
Dearest Mara,
I have but one small scrap of paper left, since my things were taken away, and I have saved it until this day. I am worn down and weak, and constantly hear voices and see things that don’t truly exist. Though I still dream of meeting you again someday, I fear that it is in vain. Things have been quiet over the past few months. All my letters are gone, but I still continue these things in my head. I keep a mental journal; I talk to you often. Even though I have lost everything, I still have you in my heart. They have taken everything from me, but they cannot take my thoughts and my feelings. This, I am thankful for. The warmth from the summer will soon fade away, and the frost of winter will return. However, I do not think I will be here for another winter. My days are numbered. Recently, I overheard the guards speaking to one another. It sounds as though my prison sentence will soon come to an end. Perhaps the people have decided my fate; I do not know. But I will find out soon enough. Whether through death or freedom, I will soon leave this place, and move on to a better one. I trust that you are well, and that you are enjoying your life as a normal child. I am thankful you do not have to see me like this. However, I do hope I can see you again someday. Maybe, if you’re willing, we can try to start over. I can be your daddy again, and you can be my sweet little girl. Maybe I’ll even find a new mother for you. I still hold onto these hopes; they are all I have left. I love you, Mara, I really do. This will be my last letter.
May our paths cross again someday,
-Father
Letters to Mara(Jake S Stiglicz)
April 4th, Day 8:
Dearest Mara,
I hope this letter finds you well. I miss you dearly. Not a day goes by that I don’t shed tears for you. I have no regret for what I did, only for the impact it has had on you. Not only have you lost your mother, but having to grow up without a father as well must be terribly difficult for you. I trust your aunt is treating you well, and that things are going okay. Each night, before I sleep, I imagine you in a happier place. Better than the home I provided for you; better than I ever could provide. I imagine you wearing beautiful dresses and attending school; doing things that normal children do. If only I could hear back from you, and know these things are true. If only I still had you here, and could hold you in my arms. No, I don’t regret what I did, but I wish I didn’t have to be away from you. I miss having you close by and being able to protect you. I hope to see you soon.
Sincerely,
-Father
April 6th, Day 10:
Mara,
I had a dream last night that I was able to see you. I was set free from all my burdens, and managed to find you. I held you in a sweet embrace, and I didn’t want to let you go. When I woke up, I longed to go back to my dream. I tried to fall back asleep, but I could not. Each night I hope that dream will return to me, but I fear it will not. My long, mundane days are growing old and I wish to be free of them. I would give anything to be able to see you again, even if only for a few moments. I treasure the times I had with you in the past.
-Father
April 10th, Day 14:
Dear, Mara,
I have finally come to the truth that these letters will never reach you. They are collecting in the back corner of my cell, and I have no means of getting them to you. It was difficult for me to let go of that dream, but I’d rather believe the truth than hold on to a false hope.
-Father
April 15th, Day 19:
Mara,
It has been nearly three weeks since I was imprisoned, and I’m beginning to get to know the other prisoners. Directly across from my cell is a larger man named Gordon. He doesn’t talk much, and isn’t very friendly to anyone. He is a former city guard, and a strong alcoholic. I’ve heard mixed stories from the other prisoners, but they believe he murdered his wife and son in a rage after having too much to drink. In the cell to my right is a young man named Tyson. He has darker skin, and is not from here—doesn’t easily open up to anyone. He was a mercenary, and got caught when he was involved with some drug lords. To his right is a bony little fellow with fiery orange hair. His name is Elias, but he goes by Eli; says he hates his name. Despite his amusing appearance, he was a dangerous criminal and drug dealer.
How did I get mixed up with these people? I was a father and a husband; I never thought I’d end up like this.
-Father
April 16th, Day 20:
My sweet Mara,
I’m becoming frustrated with the way this situation is being carried out. The mayor of this city is too lazy to deal with the criminals himself, so he leaves it up to his people to do so. While we sit here and rot in jail, the “important people” have extended councils regarding each prisoner, what crime they have committed, and how they plan to deal with them. Each day, I see one or two prisoners escorted out through the heavy double doors. Whether they’re being set free or being executed, I do not know. I wait with great anxiety for the day my decision will be made. Either way, I want to leave this wretched place.
-Father
April 23rd, Day 27:
Mara,
Today is your eighth birthday. I wish more than ever that I could be with you. I’ve been cycling through all the mental pictures and memories I have of you, and can almost hear your voice. I can almost feel you in my arms, my hands running through your soft, brown hair as I look into your deep green eyes. It’s almost like you’re right here with me. Almost.
-Father
May 1st, Day 35:
Mara,
I woke up today to a disturbing sight. Across the narrow hall, in the cell opposite mine, Gordon had hanged himself with some sheets and extra clothes. To be honest, I don’t blame him. He had no family or friends, and was more than likely going to be executed anyway. I do feel bad for the poor man, though. I can still see his lifeless eyes gazing back into my cell, his limp body suspended a few inches off the ground. I had hardly known the man, and wouldn’t dare call him a friend, but it was disturbing for me to see him go like this. I’m beginning to wonder how much time I have left before my fate is decided.
-Father
May 2nd, Day 36:
Mara,
After seeing Gordon’s body, I was brought back to the night that got me into this mess in the first place. I remember the man who broke into our home in the middle of the night. He was an average-heighted man, not too heavily built. Your mother was the first to wake up and realize that something wasn’t right. I awoke when your mother left our bed, but I didn’t think much of it. It wasn’t uncommon for one of us to get up in the night. Moments later, when I heard her scream out my name, I threw the covers off and rushed out of bed...we lived in a corrupt city with many bad men. This wasn’t the first time our house was broken into. When he saw your mother, he threatened her with his gun. I tried to help, but I was too late. I heard an ear-splitting explosion of a gunshot in the quiet night air, and I rushed out to the kitchen to see her body fall limply to the floor, the intruder standing over her with a gun in hand. I immediately screamed out in rage as I charged at him and slammed him to the wall. We struggled for a bit, but he was smaller than me and was no match for me. I put my hands on his throat and squeezed as hard as I could, tears flowing down my cheeks as I did so. I did not let go until long after the man had slumped down to the floor, and lie motionless in my kitchen. I was breathing heavily as I finally released him, and stared at his corpse. Suddenly, I turned around and saw you, Mara. Your horrified expression still haunts me to this day. I tried to approach you, but you ran away, screaming. I don’t blame you for your reaction; I probably would have done the same thing if I were you. But hear me out on this, my sweet girl…I’m not a killer. I love you, and I only want what’s best for you.
-Father
May 4th, Day 38:
Mara,
I’m beginning to find that these letters are the only thing keeping me sane. The long days are growing longer. The sleepless nights seem to never end. I can hear your voice echoing in my ears, “Daddy!” It haunts me, and I don’t know how much more of this I can take. Eli was escorted out today. I don’t know if he was killed or set free, but he has not returned, and I don’t think he will. I’m still holding onto the hope that I may someday be able to see you again, but deep down I’m wondering if it is in vain.
-Father
May 11th, Day 45:
Mara,
Spring is here, but the biting cold of winter is still lingering. Today was a rainy, stormy day. Water began seeping through the cracks in the back of my cell early in the morning, and did not stop until later that night. I scrambled to move my letters out to a dry, open spot so they would not be damaged. I hope one of the ruthless guards does not see them and take them from me. They’re all I have left. I don’t know what I would do if I lost them. I’m huddled up against the wall in the thin sheet I have, trying to stay warm. I’m shivering violently, cold and wet. I think I’m going to become ill.
-Father
May 15th, Day 49:
I’ve come down with a terrible sickness because of the cold. I have a high fever and a violent cough. I haven’t slept for a long time; hallucinations and terrible temperature swings are keeping me up at night. Though my body needs nourishment, I haven’t eaten for days. I am weak, and can hardly write this letter. I just want to be done.
May 29th, Day 63:
Mara,
It’s been two weeks since I’ve written you. I’m finally over my awful illness, and have recovered my strength for the most part. Things are thawing out, and I can smell the fresh air each morning when I wake up. Tyson, the last of the prisoners I had gotten to know, was escorted out today. Though others have taken their places, I feel alone. What little familiarity I had has now been lost. I have no one left to talk to but you…and I’m only talking to myself. What kind of a madman am I turning into?
-Father
June 3rd, Day 68:
Mara,
I was quite distressed today when the guards moved another prisoner into my cell. I knew right from the beginning that I was occupying a two-man cell by myself, but I hadn’t really expected them to fill it with someone else. My personal space has decreased, and I feel quite uncomfortable having this man in here. He doesn’t talk much, but he’s in my space, touching my things. I don’t like that.
-Father
June 6th, Day 71:
Mara,
Something terrible happened today. My new cellmate found my letters to you and began looking through them. When I demanded he stop, he made crude jokes about you and refused to give them back to me. He began to mockingly tear one of them, and I lunged at him in a panicked rage, my hands to his throat. As we struggled in the cell, one of the guards was patrolling by and saw us. He immediately got between us and broke up the fight. After that, all my letters were taken and I was lashed in punishment. What few privileges and rights I had were taken away, and things became much stricter. Now I lie alone in a cramped cell with my feet shackled to the wall in heavy chains. I have lost everything. I just want it all to end…
-Father
September 1st, Day 158:
Dearest Mara,
I have but one small scrap of paper left, since my things were taken away, and I have saved it until this day. I am worn down and weak, and constantly hear voices and see things that don’t truly exist. Though I still dream of meeting you again someday, I fear that it is in vain. Things have been quiet over the past few months. All my letters are gone, but I still continue these things in my head. I keep a mental journal; I talk to you often. Even though I have lost everything, I still have you in my heart. They have taken everything from me, but they cannot take my thoughts and my feelings. This, I am thankful for. The warmth from the summer will soon fade away, and the frost of winter will return. However, I do not think I will be here for another winter. My days are numbered. Recently, I overheard the guards speaking to one another. It sounds as though my prison sentence will soon come to an end. Perhaps the people have decided my fate; I do not know. But I will find out soon enough. Whether through death or freedom, I will soon leave this place, and move on to a better one. I trust that you are well, and that you are enjoying your life as a normal child. I am thankful you do not have to see me like this. However, I do hope I can see you again someday. Maybe, if you’re willing, we can try to start over. I can be your daddy again, and you can be my sweet little girl. Maybe I’ll even find a new mother for you. I still hold onto these hopes; they are all I have left. I love you, Mara, I really do. This will be my last letter.
May our paths cross again someday,
-Father
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