Anyway, it's rather abrupt place to start, but really the first half of the prologue was meant to be read along side this one, so...
Here is the end of the first half, just to serve as a little memory boost:
Now, Freeda wanted to meet this stranger. Needless to say Freeda was intrigued to find out who would care enough to go on for this long, know what Freeda liked and disliked, what she did most days, and could find and afford the magnificent types of paper by which they sent her the invitations, for surely they cost a fortune. Only considering these qualities the stranger was already fantastically interesting, but putting into account the fact that they had been able to do all this without being caught was a feat in and of itself. Simply put, Freeda’s curiosity was at the end of its leash.
And here's the real thing:
At the same time, there was an important potential consequence of meeting this mystery someone.
It was possible that this person was tricking her. Freeda was nearly positive, even if anyone else in her position would not agree, that whoever was sending these notes was not a threat to her. If they had been they surely would have acted long ago. And even if they had been biding their time... well, Freeda had nothing really to lose. But, at the same time, Freeda would much prefer to not find herself in a predicament with some sort of evil rogue and because she lived alone, aside from one maid who doubled as a cook, it would be much too easy for anyone to come by and take advantage of her solitude.
In retrospect that indeed was the strangest part to Freeda’s story. While for all intents and purposes she lived alone, nearly no one aside from the occasional tea party women and relatives passing through town, she was never bothered. The milkman exchanged empty bottles with full ones with about as much excitement as there is in a widow’s bed. When Freeda’s maid left for home in town after supper, which they usually shared, the house was the epitome of isolation.
Living fifteen minutes away from the nearest neighbor while walking quickly made accidental run-ins with others unlikely. Almost never were there passersby in carriage or on foot and each time there were Freeda would not bother to excite herself over it. She knew with a certainty that came from years of experience, that it would not be for her.
Strange was it then, that it just so happens that an apparently friendly stranger, with nothing on the surface to gain, would spend time entertaining someone who, quite frankly might be labeled a spinster. Or old maid. Or perhaps just, middle aged loner. In any case the invitations from the mystery person were unexpected, though admittedly convenient.
Most of the time the invitations were put in easy sight and Freeda would find them as soon as she stepped into the room. Or house for that matter. With the same envelopes and labeling each time, her watery brown eyes became accustomed to spotting the invitations, even in the midst of a mess. But occasionally invitations would pop up in the most unexpected of places.
Once, after nearly a full week of no invitations Freeda had resigned herself to the idea that the stranger had given up and there would be no more letters. After a second week passed by Freeda stopped searching for the invitations subconsciously. But finally, when a third week was nearly finished another letter appeared. Unfortunately it was Freeda’s maid was taking her sheets off the bed to wash, rather than Freeda, who found the invitation. While taking the sheets a crinkled envelope with Freeda’s name written on it fell out of a pillow case.
The maid, unsure of what to do, left the letter on the mattress to give to her boss when she was finished with cleaning the room and remaking the bed. Unfortunately, having many things on her mind, the maid forgot the letter and while making the bed accidently made it with the letter underneath the sheets.
Now, a month had passed with no invitations, from the stranger or otherwise, and Freeda was becoming increasingly depressed. She refrained from talking to the maid and did not invite her to say for dinner as usual. Her skin became sallower and took on an unhealthy tinge, her eyes gained wrinkles in the corners and the whites of them became lined with red. She spent long hours reading and staring out her bedroom window. Not a week later and Freeda had taken to bed, lying listlessly for hours on end.
One day though, Freeda woke up only to find that there was a letter wedged slightly inside of her half open mouth, the corner dampened with drool. Ecstatic, though still sluggish, Freeda had sat up and spat the envelope into her hands and eagerly ripped it open. And there, on a ripped corner of blue shiny paper was:
Oh ye of little faith. Look under your sheets.
Freeda did so immediately. She threw her legs over the edge of the bed and stood with the vigor of a spry teenager. She tore off the cover on the bed, followed quickly by the sheets and there, of course, was another letter. Almost sheepishly, reverently, Freeda leaned down to pick up the letter and only looked at it for a moment before sticking a thumb under the seal and popping it open. In this second envelope the paper appeared to be of a canvas-like texture, the words were written in dark blue paint:
Bathe quickly, then eat a good breakfast. You look like you need it.
Freeda had nearly squealed with girlish glee, but restrained herself only from making any noise. In a heartbeat she was yelling down to the maid that she felt much better and that she wished to have a bath.
Soon enough Freeda was back to her usual health and still receiving letters nearly daily. Sometimes more often. It was now, three months, nearly exactly, after Freeda’s quick rebound that she had begun questioning the origin of the letters. She was also somewhat concerned for her own sanity—what if they stop for good?—but she was too happy to much care about that.
And today, a Monday, the sixth of July, she had received her first invitation of the week. She could only wait some seconds before reaching over to grab the envelope and tear it open. From inside a yellow and purple piece of paper shaped as a butterfly fell out and written on it was:
Ready for a new week? It’s a nice day, I’d suggest a walk in the yard.
And Freeda agreeably looked out the window to see rays of light shining through the panes of glass and tried to forget, for the time being, her frustration with her mystery friend. As she hurriedly shucked her night gown and dressed in a blouse and skirt she found it wasn’t very hard and soon all she was thinking of was going to bask in the warmth of summer.
In another room a figure stood unnoticed gazing out the window. As Freeda emerged from the front door and nearly skipped around the corner to the yard the figure smiled and then without a sound, dissolved into the shadows.
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And that is that. I hope this kept your attention! I'd love some feedback! Thanks!
-Maggie
The characterization is wonderful. Keep writing!
I think, just for "flow" purposes you should either put a comma after the "by" or just take "by" away entirely. Or do nothing. Maybe I'm just crazy.