Day 55 – Two Letters – Part One – Victoria

Inspired by the time I received a little red notebook in the post from someone I had never even met, let alone knew the name of. I opened it up to discover that the notebook actually belong to my friend, and fellow aspiring writer, Alex Brown, and that this kind person had found his notebook in his local library and had sent it to the only address the notebook contained.

Word count: 882

The still morning was broken by the sharp trill of her six thirty alarm clock. A hand surfaced from the duvet, like a dolphin leaping from the ocean, and slammed down on the alarm to silence it. A moment later and the rest of Victoria appeared, throwing back the duvets and sliding into her slippers in one swift, mechanical motion. The morning routine had begun.

Shower. Hot water, near boiling, just as she liked it. Steam smothered the bathroom walls as she lathered up and cleansed her skin and washed her hair. Brush teeth; prepare skin for make up. As her face absorbed the lotion, cleanser and moisturiser, she stepped into her walk in wardrobe.

Victoria was by no means rich, she was just a little luckier than most. Her parents had bought her a gorgeous house in the suburbs. Whilst it had two bedrooms, she lived a lone. Character dripped from every room in the house: it was almost an antique, with a cottage like feel to it. Great dark oak beams ran across the ceilings. Downstairs there was a wooden fireplace, a stack of logs next to it, anticipating winter.

A visitor might have thought it would have been a warm house; a house of living and loving. But the atmosphere would have change if they were to meet its owner.

Victoria pulled a neatly ironed pencil skirt and pink floral blouse from the wardrobe. She unwrapped a new pair of tights from the packaging. Once she was dressed she took residence by her dresser and opened up the drawers. They were filled with make up. There were lotions and tonics and face creams and night creams; there were foundations and tinted moisturisers; there were porcelain powders and eye brightners. There was an array of bronzers of varying degrees of natural browns through to pinkish rouge. Her mascaras were laid out in order of brush size and her eyeliners were all of a similar type. Every piece of make up she had ever bought or given could be accounted for. There was no room in her life for misplaced articles.

Twenty minutes later she rose from the seat. Her face was smooth, smothered in layers of make up, but she looked to a degree, quite natural. Victoria was never the type to lean towards the fakery and fanciful road that make up can lead to.

The toaster popped up her steaming, seeded toast and she swiped them away to a plate to cake in a layer of butter and marmalade and to compliment, she poured herself a tall glass of squeezed orange juice.

Birds sang outside whilst she ate, but all else was silent. There was no radio nor television humming in the background. There was no soft symphony or the strum of some guitar coming from the stereo. Only the crunching noise of eating toast and the slurping noise of sipping juice could be heard. This was the typical morning in the life of Victoria’s caged world of strict routine and regulated events.

The phone rang as she stacked the washed dishes on the dryer.


It was Victoria’s mother.

“I’m great, and you?”

The post slipped through the letter box in the front door.

“When does Dad get back tomorrow?”

Victoria scooped up the letters in her free hand and placed them on the kitchen table.

“And we’re still on for dinner tonight?”

She started preparing her lesson plan notes for school and folded them into her satchel.

“Brilliant. Well, I’ll see you about seven tonight? I’ve got to dash, I’m already two minutes late and there’s an assembly at school this morning that I have to be there for…And you. Bye.”

She put the phone down and began to rifle through her satchel to check that everything was all set and that she had everything she needed. But from out of the corner of her eye she spied the letters that had arrived that morning. Under the pile of bills and advertising letters, there was a small brown parcel.

Victoria frowned; she was not expecting anything and it was months away from her birthday. She brushed the other letters out of the way and opened the parcel. From out of it she pulled a red notebook.

Intrigued, Victoria opened up the notebook to read a scrawl of very unfamiliar writing. Though messy, she’d had enough experience of terrible writing from being a teacher to recognise some of the words. It seemed to be describing someone’s life – it was very detailed, as if it were a diary written in third person. From what she was reading, Victoria assumed that it had been sent to her but checking the parcel, she confirmed that it was definitely sent to her and to her correct address.

Victoria glanced back at the notebook and almost put it down if it were not for the fact that down on the very last line of the first page, she read her own name. Perhaps it was by chance that the man had known a Victoria, but reading on a slight fear crept into her mind. The diary seemed to be describing a teacher named Victoria, with long red hair and green eyes… who would murder the man the diary had been writing about…

~ by S.G. Mark on December 1, 2011.

One Response to “Day 55 – Two Letters – Part One – Victoria”

  1. OOOOOoooo good one

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