Love Letters From The Sixth Sense

Late in the evening I came down from the attic where there were many things I had locked away in storage and forgotten about since the darken past shadowed my isolated loneliness was considered a heartbreak addiction. With a haunting folder in hand, I returned to the downstairs light where my wife of so many years had just hung up the phone.

“Kids are all right across the street,” the one who I exchanged vows with and was much younger than me exclaimed with an angelic sparkle, “they have pitched a tent in the front yard.”

“Looking outside over the bushes making sure everything was safe and no monstrous stalkers roamed the neighborhood, “You know what I found upstairs,” I did announce.

“What?”

“Love letters you sent me,”

She smiled grabbing the file before peering at the scribbled autograph notes, “these are not in my handwriting!”

Having better illumination, reality hit me right in the face these were not penned by the only one I ever loved.

“You are right,” I agreed, “you do not cross your tees or dot the I's like that.”

“Who wrote these, Morty?” She gave me a glare.

Shrugging my shoulders and telling her that I had not a clue my bride headed towards the second floor shutting the bedroom door. Feeling the deathly breeze surround the setting sending a message I took the command seriously.

Turning around I fell into a seat on this Friday night when suddenly the flat screen magically came on since my buttocks touched the remote control on/off switch and there was a movie that I had not seen starring a young woman who I had not thought of since my youthful days.

Tragically the female actor passed away a few decades ago long before I walked down the aisle. Automobile accident occurred from a situation that no one really knew what happen.

But her image carries on in this supporting role that everyone knows if they saw the film presented on the late show. As the script unfolds the main character writes love letters then mails them. If a response finds her post box, she will find the individual and give them a broken heart.

She has only a few scenes playing the other woman who wrote a letter looking for a tease and in the end the killer gave her the squeeze. Laughing remember the crush I had on her I took another glance to the findings in the attic. Reading what was on the page it came to me that it was remarkably like the film. To catch my breath, I walked outside to see the tent and the children were having fun.

Then a ghostly figure appeared, “so you finally found that love letter box I do see. I wrote them to you from me,” she said in a rhyme, “you know it is lonely sitting on the set and I once saw you rent one of my movies and thought what the heck.”

She then kissed me on the cheek and thank me disappearing into the night.

Earlier the next morning our offspring came in from outside and were laughing, “Harvey here wrote a love letter to the girl he sits next to in the second grade.”

I looked at my son and told him the truth, ‘make sure the young girl gets it, since it could be one of the loveliest things she has ever read.’