ShortStories4

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A BIT OF JOY ON A DARK DAY

May 15, 2001
Dear Elizabeth, Thank you for your words of encouragement. I can tell you have a kind spirit. I don't get very many letters from my family or old friends, which is why I signed up for the pen pal program.
Sometimes, it is easier to share your thoughts and feelings with a stranger... A stranger with an open mind and heart, that is. I do believe you have this quality, Elizabeth, or else you would not have written to me.

Unfortunately, my family cannot forget my past or support the changes I have now made in my life. I have one niece in Florida who writes to me. I'm originally from Orlando, you know. She writes to me when she visits the beach because her father tells her how much I loved the beach when we were kids. She paints a portrait with words of the crystal blue waters and warm sand between her toes. It brings back memories of early childhood. I was free then, in every way.

How does it feel to be free, Elizabeth? I have forgotten the feeling.
One thing I have learned is that you should not take anything for granted. Sometimes, when I go outside in the afternoon, I sit alone on a bench, close my eyes, and turn my face towards the sun. I concentrate on the warmth I feel on my face and every breath that I take. You see, the time I have to breathe fresh air and feel the sun on my skin is measured, so I must enjoy every second of the simple things.

I thank you again for your letter. It was very kind of you to write to me and tell me a bit about yourself. I am eager to get to know you better. Your letters will give me something to look forward to. I think that is what I miss the most. each day for me is the same. I know you might feel like this sometimes also, but always remember that you have the opportunity to break free from life when it becomes too routine or mundane. That is something I can never do. Seize all the opportunities you have to try and see new things.

August 8, 2000
Dear Elizabeth, It sounds like you are enjoying the time you have alone now that your kids are at summer camp. It is wonderful that you have decided to take some time for yourself and travel. Are you taking my advice to try and see new things? You write lovely letters. When you told me about your flower garden, I felt as if I could almost smell the fresh scent of the flowers in the summer breeze. My momma used to garden also. I think that's how she sought solace after my father died. I wonder if she gardens now. I write to her weekly, but she never responds. I guess she does not forgive me for all I have done. I don't blame her. It's too much to forgive.

Why do you want to know about my life here, Elizabeth? It isn't something you can understand. Every time I close my eyes at night, I feel thankful that one day is over, but when I awake in the morning I am sorrowful that another day has begun. One thing that I am grateful for is that I found my salvation here. So, what little hope I have is in my Lord. Maybe if I had found Him sooner, I wouldn't be here behind these cold, iron bars. I can tell you are a woman of great faith. Thank you for your prayers. I need them more than you know.

December 14th, 2000
Dear Elizabeth, I haven't been able to go outside because I am quite sick with the flu. Being sick in prison is one of the worst things I have had to endure while I've been locked up. There is no one here to give you warmth or comfort. I'm sure you are preparing for your Christmas festivities. Christmas is like a distant memory for me.

After my father died, we stopped celebrating the holidays because my mother was too depressed. She got remarried, and we moved to Texas when I was thirteen. I never did like him. Every time he looked at me, he had a strange look in his eyes. After they got married, I realized what that strange look was about. I told my momma he was sneaking into my room at night, but she told me to quit telling stories to get her attention. I really shouldn't be telling you about this, Elizabeth.   They told us not to talk about our past to our pen pals. But you won't tell, will you?

Sometimes I think my momma really did believe me. How could she not notice when he slipped out of her bed at night? After a while, I just stopped telling her. In a way, it hurt more for her to call me a liar and a home wrecker than it did for my stepfather to creep into my room and steal my innocence like a thief. I thought he would get tired of me after a while, but he never did, so I had to deal with it for five years. When I was eighteen, I not only decided to free myself from his sexual abuse, but I decided to make him pay. I wanted him to suffer every ounce of pain that I endured. So, one night, he snuck into my room, climbed on top of me as if he owned me, and I pulled the knife from under my mattress and stabbed him in the back and chest twenty five times. I guess I murdered him in my bed, so my mother would finally know that I wasn't lying. For some strange reason I thought she would tell me she was sorry for not believing me or protecting me, but she never did.   She hasn't spoken to me since that night.

I hope this letter hasn't upset you, Elizabeth. The holidays always have a way of rearing up ugly memories of my family and past. I remember sitting alone in my room on Christmas night and think of how I would make Christmas special for my own kids some day. It's funny how life throws you some surprises, some good, but most bad. Please continue to keep me in your prayers. I hope you and your family have a joyous Christmas. Having you to write to and share my feelings with has been my special gift from God this year.

February 9, 2001
Dear Elizabeth, I am writing you to say goodbye. It has been quite a blessing for me to have you as my pen pal while I was on death row. I know you must be shocked.   You see, the prosecuting attorneys convinced the jury that I was a wild teenager, who was seeking revenge on my stepfather because he was strict and tried to discipline me. I guess the jury didn't have a problem believing this after my mother took the witness stand and went along with all the lies. She told the jury that he came into my room that night to punish me for sneaking out to see my boyfriend, and I became violent and full of malice. My defense couldn't really prove my innocence because my medical records that night didn't show I was raped. For once, I had hurt him before he hurt me. I never told you that I was scheduled to be executed because I thought you might not continue to write me. I know that's a bit selfish, but if I didn't have your letters to look forward to, these past nine months would have been filled with depression and fear. But, you have brought me joy on my darkest days. I am not afraid to die because it means I will finally be free. At least I am now saved, and I don't have to worry about seeing my stepfather in Hell. Don't be sad for me, Elizabeth. I will ask God if He will allow me to be a guardian angel to the woman who was an angel to me here on earth.