The Daddy Long-Back Letters
Sunday morning came softly and without much notice to John Ansell. While neighbors readied themselves for church, John slept with an old friend; his past. He awoke from a mild stupor around nine that morning and cursed the sunshine that poured cheerfully into his bedroom window. He looked at the crumpled piece of paper that lay next to the half empty bottle of bourbon and wondered how it was anyone knew of his day before he became the respectable John Ansell. Reaching over he picked up the crumpled paper and unfolded it. He read it again, and this time out loud to see if it made any sense by hearing it…..
“Hey John, or whatever it is you call yourself these days. I see that you have done well for yourself since leaving Tucson. Sitting there now are ya in that big fancy house with all that money in the bank…looks like you would want to share some of that guilt with others less fortunate. You don’t know me…(yet), but I sure know you. I know all about that dark place in the desert you used to frequent, and if you don’t want anybody else to know, well I suggest that you become a little bit more…how shall I say it?... Friendlier; yes, that it, friendlier with the likes of me…”Snake”….”I’ll be in touch, oh and that drawing you’ve got…well that is a clue to who I am…ha ha ha
John dropped the letter to the floor and cupped his face in his hands and softly wept. “Snake” he thought, no one knew that name but…but he’s dead, I know he is dead John muttered aloud, he’s dead because I killed him”.
J. Allen Wilson © 2008
MORE TO COME LIFE PERMITTING….