June 22
Lettie has died again.
I thought that the sickness would stay gone from her, but it seems that the cure we were promised was a myth. Her mind took to the hallucinations quickly this time, and by 2 p.m. she had gone over into that place from which no one returns. This time, I think it is permanent.
Best,
Roger
June 29
We buried Lettie in the yard.
Mama wanted it to be final this time, so that we can move on. I will send you flowers from the service, if you’d like. The sickness has caught on to Amy’s eldest child, so I think you should stay away another week.
Best,
Roger
July 4
I got your letter this afternoon. I am sad to hear about the hotel, but do not fear. If you keep to yourself you are sure to be safe, as I have been doing so consistently and have yet to contract the thing.
Best,
Roger
July 6,
I write with bad news.
Your father and mother are sick. Will update you daily.
Best,
Roger
July 7,
Your parents passed in the night.
Please know that they did not suffer, as your father took both their lives before the disease could take their minds.
I am so sorry,
Roger
July 11,
Amy’s boy has survived.
We are of the opinion that it must be due to his condition. Since the sickness takes our minds, mama says that he must have been safe, as his has been different ever since the accident. . We have written to the doctor, and perhaps he will find us a cure from this.
Best,
Roger
July 17,
I am sorry to hear of your neighbor passing, but what of your mental state? Are you well?
No news here.
Best,
Roger
July 22,
Mama has caught the sickness. I found her eating the ashes of father that sat on the fireplace. She does not trust me, and thinks that I am the devil.
I sometimes think that I am living in hell.
Best,
Roger
July 27,
I have put mother in the chicken coop for her own safety. She has eaten the feet off of each of the chickens, but does not touch their bodies, nor the food I place outside for her. I hope, of course, that she will recover. I fear, however, that I should have killed her yesterday.
Best,
Roger
July 30,
Mother has died.
Best,
Roger
August 2,
I am glad to hear that your situation has improved. I hope that I will see you soon, as no one else here seems to be sick. Perhaps the disease has died out with mama, and we will have peace again.
I will write when two weeks have passed without incident, as the doctor suggests that I do not call you home immediately.
Best,
Roger
August 3,
The sun has grown warmer and quite irritating to me. I suspect that the disease must originate from there, and so I have shut myself inside the house for the time being.
I hope you are well.
Roger
August 4,
I like to crawl on the table, or on the floor, or under things. I think I understand what the worms feel. I feel so happy here, in the dark.
Roger
August 5,
I’m running out of stamps, so I’ll have to go outside.
I have to go outside, it’s not my fault.
Roger
August 5,
I went outside, but the postman saw me, so I had to take him back with me.
We are here, safe and sound, inside my stomach.
Roger
August 5,
There are many stamps inside his clothes. I took them, so I am the postman now.
R
August 5,
There are teeth inside his skull. Teeth and shiny things and rings!
I’ll give you some when you return.
When will you write me?
R
August 6,
I have seen the face of God, and it is my own! He whispers in my ear, and I listen to him.
He is telling me that you should come home.
I have made us dinner, and it will be waiting.
R
August 6,
God is eating my left eye, so I will need to borrow yours.
R
August 7,
I am sleeping inside the postman tonight.
R
August 7,
I am I am I am I am I am I am
To you
R
August 8,
Alone
Emily Sanders was born and raised in the Deep South. She has a bachelor’s degree in history from the University of Mississippi, and her car will be eligible for an antique license plate in three years. You can find her on Twitter at @3msander.
Letters From Roger is the winner of the Apparition Literary Magazine March Flash Fiction Challenge, which was based on the Photographer/Image prompt for March: Claude Cahun
