Dear Grace,
I can tell you have a smile on, at the prospect of reading my letter, but sugar-girl, wipe that smile. I have no news about boys or my lover to share; my family is as it always is—sad.
I write to ask if you have heard of the city with walls of jasper, streets of gold and a pearly gate? Oh Grace have you heard of the city that needs no light; for their king is their light? I heard there’s neither night nor day, and its people are always gay. Grace, have you heard of it? I plan to make my trip there, but I may have to slit my wrist or befriend my father’s old friend; the noose. But Grace I think it’d be worth it, I have lived life at the mercy of fate for far too long, perhaps they could take my numbness away, perhaps they could make me happy. Oh Grace, I know that would be too much to hope for, but I got nothing to lose that life hasn’t already taken. And before I forget to tell you, my lover has wed Suzanne, and she’s carrying his child with joy; I can neither know love nor bear children. Grace do you see reasons I need to go?
There’s nothing really to live for; I’m a traveler tired of my journey.
Yours truly,
Lisa.
P.S please write back; I’d love to hear your words . . . one last time.
The writer would love replies to this letter. Send your reply, along with a short bio and picture to monalisaigbe@hotmail.com
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Good luck!
Monaleesaah is a black skinny writer and singer, who can be a substitute therapist, and can be baited and thus kidnapped with pounded yam.
P.s she loves, white, black and grey
3 Comments
I’m scared
Hmmmmmmmmm
Dear Mona,
Your letter didn’t not meet me well my friend. Emeka my husband died last month and like you know already, I bore him no child. I’m supposed to marry his younger brother so I can taste of my late husband’s wealth because whether I like it or not, I, a barren strange woman can’t take their son’s wealth. The family says It’s tradition.
You see, after I got letter and saw the city you talked about, i thought maybe i could come with you, but I’m not quite sure that the wrist slitting or the noose will get us there. Can we find another way?
While you think about it, I want you to know that I’m praying that we don’t meet there the ill-fate we’re running away from here.
Wait for me.
Yours in pain,
Isowa.
*blinks rapidly* I’m not crying.