Letters To Nowhere [EDITING]

●The pursuit.

The wait for the reply was as long as a thirsty person waiting for a sight of an oasis in the dry endless desert. No matter how many mirages you wish to see and will for it to be the truth, it isn't and you are left yet more thirstier than before. This is what is weird isn't it the fact that the thought of something makes us want the thing more than the actual thing itself.

Chaitali knew that the wait for the write back was hopeless, but she for a change had tried becoming optimistic about things. What she also did for the first time in her life was try and take things into her own hands and take action as she saw fit.

She decided to go looking for the house. She was the world's most unsocial person in the world, but for some reason this was the one thing that her lazy brain demon couldn't talk her out of. She was going to go find the house and prove to herself that this time the hope she had placed was not on someone that didn't exist, rather this time she really had someone that she was writing to and that she was not crazy to want this letter thing to actually work out.

Around a week later than her last letter, she came back from class and headed out on her determined pursuit. The Address was not far from her building that she knew, but the walk there seem to take forever. It was like she was walking for days with her heart pounding in her ears, maybe she was having a heart attack. The thought of turning back crossed her mind with every step, but she kept the fall of her foot, one in front of the other, remain steady, almost in a rhythm.

She reached  the house number, which turned out to be a" small house, amongst the rows of apartments. "That's a nice change"  she thought. She was very sure that she was going to pass out from the sheer ridiculity of the entire brazen act, but she remained steadfast and walked to the front porch past the tiny iron gate. She rang the bell, and stood there all the while thinking that the front of the house wasn't kept well, her mother would has an OCD fit if she were made to stay her even for an hour. 

An old woman answered the door, and Chaitali sighed a breath of relief, not that old people were not intimidating, but this was way better than a big burly man answering it, or was it?

"I don't want to buy your dictionaries or your carpets, Go Away!!", the old woman burst out as soon as she took a good look at chaitali.

"Uh-no, ma'am, i am not here to sell anything.", Chaitali  quickly blurted out.

"Then I'm not in the mood for charity either, Get Going, Leave!!!", she old woman said dismissively. "Well, aren't you a ray of sunshine!" thought Chaitali, mentally rolling her eyes.

"Not for that either, I'm here to talk about letters actually." said  Chaitali, as her heart started beating in its right place again instead of her ears.

"Letters? What Letters? I don't write letters", said the old woman, and looked at Chaitali as if she was talking about some alien device instead of simple letters.

"No, I am the one who wrote them actually, to your address.", the woman looked even more confused, so Chatali explained to her the entire process of hoe she found the journal in her locker and wrote out of sheer helplessness. The woman didn't seem to be as agitated after a while, even though she still wanted this weird girl off her porch. She told her that her granddaughter used to go the same college as her, which explained the journal. But she seemed to have no clue about any letters, as she didn't receive any. Disheartened and hungry, Chaitali walked back home, all the while thinking one thing, "Where did the letters go?"  

That evening the wonder and curiosity got replaced by regret and anger. She cursed herself as what was she thinking doing something so ridiculous. Writing letters to an unknown address, hoping for---hoping for what? She knew she had seen too many dramas for her ow good. she put away her enveloped and other equipments, and decided to never do such a childish thing ever again in her life. Life.

Suddenly it hit her like a bomb. In her pursuit of having someone on the other side, she had completely forgotten the main reason why she began to write in the first place. Life, she was done with that. But it was that moment this ridiculous idea had whisked away her mind her time from all the dark demons that kept haunting her. The letters did serve their purpose, they were not useless, and they made her realize that she meant something too, that she was real enough to feel and hurt and be excited. She realised that she meant a great deal to herself, screw if there is someone out there or not as long as she was there for herself, she could face anything at all.

So this time she took out the empty journal and addressed it to the person that actually her the most...

Dear C...

the end.

A/N: Hey guys, I know i have been AWOL for quite some time now, and i really have no excuses. Except for the truth that life happened, and drifted me away from this story. I swear I'll edit it out to perfection, as soon as my finals are over. And really felt sad that i couldn't finish this tiny story in a go as i planned....but anyway...it did happen at last.

I will make sure that my future works are way way systematic and in tune. Heartfelt thanks to you guys who reached till here...I am sorry too. THANK YOU!! <3<3 :)

P.S. this was my first story published anywhere...:) I do have another one that i am working on at the moment, for which i promise i will keep my word to word above. Have a great day! See you soon. :):)