Mailbox Miseries Series

The Final Chapter

Written by Sara A. Harris

At the edge of all hope, I glance into the stomach of my dank mailbox, a dark adaptation of reality, and there it is… a literary assailant masquerading in the form of a SASE.  Failure strikes while scrawling swirls of days-old black ink, written in preparation of return, laughs at me.  Don’t they understand my suffering dedication?  Can’t they sense my anguish, as if by some clairvoyant blackhole in the postal universe?  Don’t they realize what they’re missing? 

Okay..obviously not!  But in scornful meditation the air rips from my lungs… I’m suffocating and like a knife to my heart, my ego collapses.  My buoyancy is gone and I’m shocked into oblivion by a level of excellence that feels virtually unattainable.  And the walk of shame begins. 

Everyone must be watching.  I think silently through a stream of tears.

Glancing just beyond my shoulder one final time, my mailbox, a silhouette form like that of a tired scarecrow, is always waiting for me.  I feel its presence as it stands resolute in front of my house glaring… knowing I cannot resist the curiosity it ignites.  I’m caught in the clutches of temptation and that flagrant, hollow crypt-keeper knows I will come again and again.   Powerless to the cloud of emotions that veils my usual character, it is the sentinel to my guardhouse faith.  Uneasiness settles in as I wait, lingering blow by blow, crumbled beneath the force that kicks me while I’m down for tomorrow will be unchanged…  Repetition at its worst. 

Tomorrow finds me. And from a faint distance, the remorseless growl of a stop and start engine resonates through open air of light and dust, and I know… its coming back for me. 

 Dum-de-Dum-Dum-Dum!

Just a little writer’s remorse at its best!  Thanks for everyone who took time to read my useless rantings! Okay, okay… for now I’m dunnzo on the pity-party, but work with me here. This isn’t over til’ I say it is.