Letter from Mrs. Sarah Schatteleyn to Miss Lucy Goedhart
My twin my darling my LUCY
All is not well with me not AT ALL well
NO
ive a BLINDING PAIN in my head
i didnt think it was possible to experience such pain and LIVE
i feel like taking a SPOON
to my eye and scooping it
out out OUT OUT out
anything to make
it STOP MAKE IT STOP makeitstoppleasemakeitstop
i often think but only when SHE allows me to think because how can anyone think with a pain like this like something rooting through your head or or or theres a word for it and i know it but it wont come to me i think shes taking away my words now too oh god oh god oh god ohgodohgod please no but when she lets me think i think how good it would be to be DEAD because then at least it wouldn't hurt
only i cant because thats what SHE wants and no matter what i cant give her what she wants not NOT EVER neverNEVERNEVERNeVErnevER
shesaDEMONanUNHOLYthingallVILEallUNCLEAN
i wish i could KILL her or at least hurt her like shes hurt me
seehowshelikestohaveher brainfeellike a salted slug
see you HORRIBLE THING you can rob me of some of my big words but i can use other words to describe what youre doing to me
ithurtssomuchlucy
please please PLEASE come to me my sweet sister i am terrified of what i might do if you dont
Sarah
Telegram from Mr. Michael Schatteleyn to Miss Lucy Goedhart
Received at
Veenpoort 11:06 28/09/1887
Sarah deadly sick. Please come immediately. No need to send word ahead. Will ensure someone there to meet you at station no matter the time. Just hurry. I fear for her life.
Michael
_________________
The train left the station at noon.
By then, so many little things had gone wrong that Lucy couldn't help but wonder whether her journey was ill-fated. Firstly, she had intended to be on an earlier train, the one that left at ten, but one of the horses pulling the carriage taking her to the station had thrown a shoe, delaying her by almost two hours. When she finally arrived, the heel of her left boot snapped off, causing her to sprain her ankle. Once she was seated within the train, she thought herself momentarily safe from the common misfortune that had dogged her that morning. This proved to be an illusion when a fellow passenger, a middle-aged woman who smelled strongly of rose water, dumped her travel bag onto Lucy's lap.
Startled, Lucy jerked in her seat. The book she had been idly flicking through, a collection of gothic tales translated from English, fell from her lap. In between its pages, tucked there carefully to prevent loss and creases, lay the most recent letters from her twin sister, Sarah. They spilled onto the floor and under the seats.
"Oh my!" the woman said. She snatched up the bag as if afraid Lucy would make away with it. "I didn't see you," she said, by way of explanation. Then she added, "You really should be more careful, you know."
Lucy, who had dropped to her knees to gather her precious letters, only smiled wanly in response.
