This one hurts.Even the ghost post worker had to sit with it for a while.It’s a jagged piece of glass, written by a sister for the brother she didn’t get to finish knowing.That kind of grief that’s hard to explain unless you’ve been there. Maybe you have.If you find this letter, read it gently.It isn’t… Continue reading Marked Undeliverable
Let me set the scene:I’m standing in front of the Doritos like a normal person.I am not a normal person.I am holding a letter that tastes like smoke.I’m about to slide it between Sweet Chili Heat and Cool Ranch.Because that’s where it belongs. Three pages of restrained grief, betrayal under glass.It doesn’t name names.It doesn’t… Continue reading I Am Holding a Letter That Tastes Like Smoke
The envelope’s nothing special.Jane liked it that way. Said Daphne wouldn’t open anything too pretty. Inside? A letter she never meant to send.She wrote it after her seventh visit. Or maybe her seventeenth.There’s a tally sheet. Some angry scribbles.One line just says: “you left.” It’s not sweet.It’s not fair.But it’s honest. I don’t think Jane… Continue reading The Last One She Wrote
Harriet wrote like the sea had taken a bite out of her and never gave it back. She waited for a man who left with a promise and didn’t return with a body. Just silence. Long enough that people stopped asking, long enough that she forgot how to speak his name without choking on it.… Continue reading The One Who Never Let Go
The letter inside came from a man named Elias Rook.Five pages long. All of it bleeding with the kind of honesty that only shows up when you’re not going to survive the night. He followed orders. Stood where they told him. Carried the sword.Did everything right.And still, people died behind him. This isn’t a story… Continue reading Ashes speak louder than swords
I left this one on a desk. A plain one—fake wood, not trying too hard. The kind you sit at when you’re pretending to be okay. When you’re getting through the day but part of you is still somewhere else. Still waiting. The envelope is dark. The kind of brown that feels like old journals… Continue reading THE ONE WHO NEVER CAME BACK
Little Ghost Post 