Scott Moseley

Hufford Eng 220

The Song is the Story


Was She Real

I paced the white room, waiting. I had requested a pen and paper nearly half an hour ago, yet the servants still had not brought it. I sat down on the bed next to the wall, the metal frames and springs creaking under my weight. Just then, the little window in the door opened; a pen and some paper dropping through to the floor. "There." The servant said as he shut it again.

"Thank you!" I replied as I picked it up. Moving to the back wall, I leaned against it and sat down, placing the paper in front of me, for I had no desk. I took a deep breath and began to write.

"My dearest Helen,

I am so sorry I have been on this business trip, but you know my work, never as easy as it should be. China is a magnificent place though. I miss you very much. We haven't been together for some time now, but I still think of you every day. I miss you and I want you to know there can be no other.

No one can compare with you, your long brown hair, your green eyes, your sweet smile, your gentle kiss, your soft touch; no one.

I know I have had some problems before, and I thank you for being there for me and helping me out of those hard situations; my drug addictions, my smoking habits, me coming home drunk every night.

Thank you for dealing with me though I was in such a state. Thank you for waiting for me while I served those three long years in prison for the drugs I was trafficking.

Thank you for never giving up on me, even though your whole family told you that I would never amount to anything good, but now look where I am! I am a co-owner of a multimillion dollar corporation. You can take that back to your family and tell them they were wrong, that even though I only have a GED from high school, I am still successful.

When I get home from this ever lengthening business trip we will get married, buy a house and live life to its fullest. I am even entertaining the idea of having a few kids!

Oh, you are going to have to get me off my smoking habit again, the servants here have cigarettes, but I can't find a vendor so I get them from the servants, but the good news is I haven't had a drop of alcohol since I have gotten here so that makes your job slightly easier. These conferences seem to go on forever, all these doctors giving their opinions on things, after a while it gets annoying.

I wish I could be home now, but I think the conference finishes next week so I will see you then.

I love you and miss you, see you soon,



I sighed and looked around. Realizing I didn't have any stamps or envelopes, I got up and banged on the door. Again the sliding window opened. "Yes?" the servant asked.

"I seem to be out of envelopes and stamps, could I have one please?" I asked him. He nodded, shut the window and walked off. A few minutes later the window opened again and a stamped envelope dropped through. Picking it up, I folded my letter, put it in and licked the glue. 'Yuck, why don't they come up with glue that tastes good if we are going to have to lick it?' I thought to myself. I addressed the letter and knocked on the door again. When the window opened I slid the letter through. "Could you mail this for me please?"

He looked at the letter and then back at me. "I cannot mail this letter. The person it is addressed to does not exist." He said as he slid it back to me.

"What?" I asked loudly. "How could you say that? She has been my fiancée for four years; we met before I was thrown in jail, and I haven't seen her since I came to this conference! Mail the letter!" I shouted as I slid it back to him.

He looked at the letter again, sighed and slid it back to me. "She doesn't exist; you haven't seen her because you have been on medication, which apparently has just worn off." He looked down the hall, "Doctor!" he shouted.

"What are you talking about? I am attending a business conference. I left her back home when I came out here." I told him as I slid it back to him again. "Now send it!" I growled.

He just watched it fall to the floor on the other side of the door. "You are a patient at Wahana Mental Hospital, last week your fiancée's name was Jennifer, and you were a jet liner pilot. You have been here for two years, and you have never been in jail. Just hold on a minute and I will get you your medications and you will feel better." He said as he shut the window again. I didn't know what to think. The room suddenly became cold. A shiver went down my spine as I sat back on my bed, my arms wrapped around me. A tear began to fall from my eye. Was it true? Had my mind really conjured up this wonderful woman in my life? My imagination wasn't that good, was it? I didn't know what to think. Feeling alone, I laid down on my bed and stared at the wall. Was she just a figment of my wild imagination?