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Pisani Makarada


Pisani Maskarada
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a short jobbie.
The correspondence began by a mistaken address on the outside of the letter, though the name was correct. Once delivered, Andrew responded, intent on telling the writer, Nina of the mistake, he was not the one she had been writing. Another letter came, telling Andrew that he was indeed who she had meant to write. She then spoke of the coming war between her own country and his. Andrew couldn't believe it, seeing as how his country had always been peaceful, no wars to speak of in its history.

Several more letters from Nina and Andrew began to learn things about the mysterious woman, dream of a face he'd never seen, and see the logic behind her words of war. His mind would pick up on things he'd see in his life, things Nina had told him with the earliest letters. For nearly a year this continued, until Andrew decided to travel to the country and meet Nina, the war she had predicted becoming obvious to him, even if it wasn't to the rest of the country.

Andrew looked at the last letter as he boarded the plane, the mot specific event that Nina had mentioned so far, as well as the date for the following month. He was sure she was going to be the cause of the war, how else would she know so much.

The ten hour flight had been long, boring and Andrew was on edge as he approached the address he'd written so many times. The car stopped outside a two story white house. the paint was fading, the porch sunk in. It was far below the expectations his dream had created.

Nervously, he approached the door and knocked, waiting for the woman he'd come to know through her letters to answer.

He was surprised when a young boy answered and looked up at him with a child's curiosity. It was only a second before a woman followed, wiping her hands on a stained apron, smile on her face.

"Go on, Jacob." she said to the boy, sending him off. "Can I help you?" she asked.

"I'm looking for Nina." he said, suddenly doubting he was in the right place. What he knew of the woman, though limited, hadn't left him with the impression of a mother, especially since no children had been mentioned.

A sadness entered the woman's eyes, mixing with the confusion that sat there. "Mother's been dead nearly a year now." A pause. "How did you know her?"

Andrew couldn't answer and rudely stared for nearly thirty seconds. "I must be at the wrong address" he said, pulling the envelope out of his pocket and looking over it, before handing to her. "Do you know where this is?"

The woman before him looked at the envelope, to the man, and then back again. "You're here." she said, staring at the delicate writing that was her mother's. "When did you get this?" she asked, looking up at him finally.

Andrew knew not how to answer, seeing as how he was at the right address, the woman's mother was Nina, and...she was dead. "About a year ago." he lied. "I didn't realize she had passed, I'm sorry." he said, holding his hand out to receive the letter. After a few more words, Andrew turned and left the house, his mystery only more confusing.

By the time Andrew returned home, there was another letter waiting for him. He dropped it on the table, haunted by all he'd learned. His curiosity finally getting the best of him, he opened the letter.

Dearest Andrew,
Monday, our countries go to war. I hope you enjoyed your time in my country before it is torn to shreds. Take with you the knowledge I was able to pass on in hopes that you will survive the next five years. Remember, there is always light upon a new day. Find your moment and hold upon it.

With love,
Nina

Andrew looked at the note. It was a farewell, he knew it to be true. A farewell from someone who is dead? he wondered. Immediately, he took out a sheet of paper and wrote back, looking for the answers to the questions he now had. The answer that would never come.




 
 
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