A Letter Home (Closed)
Aug 9, 2014 17:44:48 GMT -5
Post by Father Stanley Cupper on Aug 9, 2014 17:44:48 GMT -5
Father Cupper sat in his home under the gentle light of a lamp resting on an old oak desk, a pen in one hand, a paper sitting in front of him. He gave a gentle sigh, smiling slightly at the sound of Bart snoring in his pet bed, and the quiet clacking sound of Morts trotters as the little swine paces his kitchen, he'd fallen in love with the linoleum for some reason. Turning his attention back to the task at hand, he set pen to paper.
Sarah,
I hope this letter finds you and the wee ones well, and I hope that either by the time, or before, this letter reaches you, I'll have been able to get a good phone service and actually hear your voice. Sadly though, at time of writing, most local providers are charging more for international calls than the airlines would to just fly over there every odd week. I know I mentioned that I was moving to another part of America, last we spoke, but I figure I aught fill in a bit more detail, now that I know what that actually means.
Pilot Ridge is much further north than El Paso was, closer to Ireland's spot on the globe, though a titch more land locked, though it does have a good number of bodies of water for fine fishing and relaxing. (Caught a woman on one such excursion, I'll give details when I get to call.) Weathers hot and humid now, as we're in the grips of summer, but I full expect the winter to be colder than mothers stare on report card day once was, though I must say, the folks here are kind as a kitten with cream.
I know its been some time since I've been home, but should all go well here, I aught be able to take a week of spring for myself, and I would very much appreciate it if you could give mother that news as well as my love.
Be sure to save some for yourself,
Stanley.
With that, his letter was done, the paper was folded, and set in an envelope. With a creak and a crack, the old man stretched his back, and rose, and went off to bed.
Sarah,
I hope this letter finds you and the wee ones well, and I hope that either by the time, or before, this letter reaches you, I'll have been able to get a good phone service and actually hear your voice. Sadly though, at time of writing, most local providers are charging more for international calls than the airlines would to just fly over there every odd week. I know I mentioned that I was moving to another part of America, last we spoke, but I figure I aught fill in a bit more detail, now that I know what that actually means.
Pilot Ridge is much further north than El Paso was, closer to Ireland's spot on the globe, though a titch more land locked, though it does have a good number of bodies of water for fine fishing and relaxing. (Caught a woman on one such excursion, I'll give details when I get to call.) Weathers hot and humid now, as we're in the grips of summer, but I full expect the winter to be colder than mothers stare on report card day once was, though I must say, the folks here are kind as a kitten with cream.
I know its been some time since I've been home, but should all go well here, I aught be able to take a week of spring for myself, and I would very much appreciate it if you could give mother that news as well as my love.
Be sure to save some for yourself,
Stanley.
With that, his letter was done, the paper was folded, and set in an envelope. With a creak and a crack, the old man stretched his back, and rose, and went off to bed.
