14 Feb
5:50

Smash Story

The Last Letter

By HiraNaz, Lahore

Miss Margaret was making herself a cup of coffee when suddenly she sensed a gripping sensation in her chest, she tried to catch her breath and with much effort she succeeded. She pulled a chair with great difficulty and sat on it then while vacantly staring at the sky. She knew her end was near.

I know that when I will be dying there will be no one to hold my hand, to ease my pain, to encourage me to not be afraid. Now when the angel of death is spreading its wings around me I know there will be no one to cry after me and that is the most horrible feeling one could die with!

Miss Margaret woke up from a dreamless sleep. She put her slippers on and after wearing her spectacles, parted the curtains of her bedroom. It was another lonely day. She sighed and went into the kitchen; she needed her cup of coffee…

At the age of 72, Miss Margaret is a bony, fragile creature who has long been a victim of rheumatism, having intelligent eyes and an aura of an erudite around her. Fifty two years ago when she completed her academic studies she chose to be a professor but after 15 glorious years of her career, she retired from her profession and became an avid traveler. She explored the depths of sea and wandered in the vastness of skies. She explored the continents, the great cities, the countries; she did all this on her own, being alone.

She never married and the reason was very simple. She wasn’t ready to commit and she never committed, she never had a companion, and never had a friend. After travelling a great deal, she retired to her apartment with her memories intact and her books around. Her pension was enough for a single soul and she also inherited enough money from her parents to spend the rest of her life with ease. Consequently, she was living her life on her own terms without any difficulty. She became an avid reader, an occasional writer, a gardener, but she could never become happy! Life passed by and so did her parents, and her youth. Upon reaching the age of 50, she was no longer a happy and a cheerful person. Instead she was grumpy and desolate.

Miss Margaret was making herself a cup of coffee when suddenly she sensed a gripping sensation in her chest, she tried to catch her breath and with much effort she succeeded. She pulled a chair with great difficulty and sat on it then while vacantly staring at the sky.She knew her end was near.

Later that night she did not go to bed. Instead she came to her writing table and typed the last letter…

The next morning people found her dead. The doctor said she had passed away in her sleep. As she had no relatives, the neighborhood took care of her funeral that was more of her last journey. They were putting her in a coffin when they found the letter that was written by Miss Margaret before her death. It was decided that her father would read the letter before the final rituals of her funeral take place.

The whole neighborhood was gathered in the graveyard for a final goodbye to Miss Margaret. The coffin was ready to be put in its place when the father cleared his throat and said:

Everyone pay attention! I am going to read the last letter of Miss Margaret.

The letter addresses to no one in particular. It has been written as if she was writing a last page in her journal…

And the father starting reading it aloud

“All my life I have detested company not because I was a misanthrope,but because I was a narcissist. I have always been so absorbed with myself that I never cared to invest my emotions in people. I was a twisted thinker so I thought and made myself believe that I don’t need a human company. I compelled myself to believe I just need adventures around and then I became a seeker of every possible experience that was in my reach and that I could afford. I explored the depths of the sea and travelled through the vastness of the sky. I visited great cities, explored libraries, but I could never be happy with any of it.

After 50 years of my life I had everything peculiar to boost about, every experience to be proud of but I could never say that I was happy. The reason was very obvious; I never cared for human company. I never got to know the pleasure of a companionship, the bliss of being in a relation because I was too reluctant to commit. I never tasted the joy of having my own children, and of having my own family. I had books but I had no one to tell my tales to; the tales of my adventures. I failed to achieve contentment because I never had anyone to share my experiences with; I never cared for human company and now look, what has happened?

Now that I am going to die I know that it will be a lonely death…

I know that when I will be dying there will be no one to hold my hand, to ease my pain, to encourage me to not be afraid. Now when the angel of death is spreading its wings around me I know there will be no one to cry after me and that is the most horrible feeling one could die with!

Remember me not as someone who lived a wonderful life, someone who was an erudite, a blue stocking woman. Remember me as a lonely soul, someone who had a pricking solitary journey throughout her life, someone who was never happy, and was always alone.”

When the father finished reading the letter every eye was full in tears. The people who were therewere unable to learn anything when Miss Margaret was alive, but now when she was in her coffin, her last letter have taught them the most valuable lesson. She taught them that life is to be with humans. It is to seek company, to share our joys and sorrows with humans. She taught then that a person who does not care about a companion can only live a life like Miss Margaret’s. A life with a pricking solitary journey…

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