Ginger's Letters Home

[Pixel]

"Dad"
553 Edgar Ave.
Mailing Box 003
Neuarc City - HN11-915567

Dearest, beloved father*,

Thank you oh so much* for sending me to the middle of nowhere to die at the hands of a bunch of magical lunatics. When you told me I'd meet my match here, I definitely thought you were making one of your hilarious* jokes. Though so far, everyone has been more than happy to plow me into the ground, where I clearly belong*, according to you. If I remember correctly, the last thing you said to me was to 'not die.' 

Truly, the best piece of advice you have ever given me, maybe even the most helpful thing you've ever done in your whole life!

Even though I was sure the piece of shit you put me on would sink, I managed to get here in one piece. They lost my luggage, somehow.

If anyone from school comes asking for me, tell them I died or something. I don't expect you to write back, so I'm going to pretend you already told them this, and assume they felt like a bunch of pricks, like the phonies they are.

The people at this school seem cooler than the people at home. I played Manaball for the first time, and I am now the champion of the sport.

You probably thought I'd get killed here, with my big mouth and strong attitude. I won't. I'm going to grow until I can say what I want to whoever I want. I'll get so powerful, I'll crack the planet in half. I might have ruined your life, but mine's only beginning.

Also, I tried alcohol, and wrecked a bar, so fuck you.

Hope you miss me* and regret having sex with your secretary.


Ginger,

Autumn, 1831


*Sarcasm

[Pixel]

Headmaster Alcaster
110 Eldritch Boul.
Mailing Box 003
Neuarc City - HN11-525331
 
Dear Headmaster Alcaster,

I was informed by the guidance counselor to keep in touch during my exchange, but they didn’t give me their mailing address. Pass this letter on to them when you receive it. You might as well read it, since you’ll be opening it and reading this header.

I have made some friends here at the academy, but when I see a dork, I will call a dork out. You see, the island is split into these factions, and this one particular faction has reign over a large hole in the ground. I know what you’re thinking, and yes, I do break in constantly. But these dorks are always blocking my path, and thus, I inform them that they are indeed dorks.

I have taken the liberty of using the word dork as much as possible in this letter as you seemed so disapproving of the term. There are also a few students who might be dorks, though I have yet to confirm this theory.

The faction in control of the mines are definitely dorks, though.

Your suggestions for anger management have been useful, or at least they would have been if I got angry ever. I think of the beach, and then I realize that beach and bitch are similar, and then I think of the bitch that pissed me off to begin with. Maybe if the dorks let me into the mines more often, I'd have a place to blow off steam.
 
Dorkingly yours,
 
Ginger

Spring, 1832

[Pixel]

Tony Marucco
34 St. Higgins Ave.
Mailing Box 708
Neuarc City - HN12-322985

 Yo, dork.

It's Ginger, the one you said that didn't have a soul. I've been kicking a lot of ass here in my new school. How is your dad? Is he still a surgeon? How about your mom? Does she still make jewelry? Well, ass-hat, I am now both a certified doctor, and the lead artificer in a large trading company. I guess you can't talk shit about your parents anymore, fucko. If I had to guess, you're still into those cringey Kissy-Mew novels that you wouldn't shut the fuck up about. Yes, I knew you read them, you massive phony.

I didn't just write to you to boast. I'm following up on something shitty you said before I left, because it's been on my mind since then. It was so utterly stupid, it just annoys me that a human brain was able to produce such nonsense. You said: "At least now you won't have to stand up for yourself anymore." What the fuck does that even mean? Do you have any idea how apeshit people go here? Have you even ever been out of the city? Was it a fat joke? It was just such a useless thing to say, you actual clown. Skeletons claw themselves out of the ground and attack people here. You don't know a god damned thing.


Allie Lambert used to think your voice was annoying, by the way.

Sophie thought so too.


Ginger,

Summer, 1833

[Pixel]

Aconitum to Zinnia Plant Emporium
995 Montessori  Boul.
Mailing Box 662
Neuarc City – HN11-157321


Hello,

This is a letter for someone who might work here, or used to work here. If she does not, please mail it to her. The information I have about her is attached to this letter.


-BELOW IS NOT FOR YOUR EYES UNLESS YOU ARE MY MOM-



Hey,

It’s your daughter, Ginger. You might remember me from a few years ago, when you decided to ditch me with the asshole that scorned you. He sent me off to study far away, but I’m having a good time so far. Someone else wanted to be my mom, and she’s very nice to me. I’ve impressed my professors and standing out as a student in general, and I have friends now. I also found love. It would have been nice to share that moment with you. My life is coming together without you, it seems.

Yep, things are great. My earth magic has reached a peak of mastery, and the earth and I are truly one now. I'm strong, like you used to be, and I don't run away from my problems. I haven’t touched the nature tree even once, despite understanding it. I guess I never needed your help after all.

You probably won’t get this letter, since I don’t even know where you are, or if you’ve been keeping an eye on me. I only had good memories of you before you left. You used to take me everywhere, and we’d make little earth villages in the garden. Grilled cheese and tomato soup...


Why didn’t you say goodbye?


Ginger,
Spring 1834

[Pixel]

It is the dead of night...

You are comfortable in your bed, dreaming dreamy dreams, when the postbox seems to rattle, and stir you from your slumber.

Groggy, and confused at who would deliver a letter at this late hour, you get to your feet and slowly make your way towards the door. An immaculate letter rests beneath the mail slot, the address and writing too difficult to make out in the dimly lit room. You reach down to pick the letter up, and try to squint in order to see the letter's sender. The envelope seems to be signed, but in your half-awake state, you can hardly process how the letters function together.

Yawning, you return to bed, and open the letter.

Dearest friends,

Don't you worry about me, it's dark and empty up here, but I'll be waiting for you. My wounds are still present, but they don't hurt anymore. Fate is a cruel mistress, that will snatch you up from your life and cart you off at the drop of a hat. Take comfort in knowing I did not grovel or plead, or leave your world undignified. As I lived, I faced death with a grinning face, and fire in my heart. I shouldered burdens that I never spoke of, feelings that never blossomed, of them I am finally free.

And so are all of you, of me.

My recklessness probably hurt you more than it did my enemies, and in my final moments, I realized this. As you read this letter, imagine I'm right there with you, because I will be with you, all of you, as part of the land. You'll find me in every solemn boulder in the field, every flourishing garden, every ant hill and mountain, for the earth and I are finally one.

Be strong.

Go forth with courage.

I'll be waiting on the other side.

As you read the letter, you swear it is narrated to you by a woman's voice. It sounded so familiar, as though it were someone you once knew.

Before you can process what you had just read, your eyes open, and you find yourself soaked with sweat in your bed.

You look around for the letter, rubbing your eyes with confusion.

Despite your thorough efforts, you are unable to locate the letter.

Was it a dream?