Young Writers Society

Yes, I am back.

It has been roughly a week since I first began writing on this forum, putting today, September 15th,about two weeks from when I first had my...troubles.

To address a few things:

1. No this is not fake. A bunch of people commented on my last post claiming that this was written by a bot or wannabe writer. It isn't. I'm just a teenage girl who came to a bump in the road, and sought help from strangers on the internet. This being said, I've loved writing since I was young, but I don't share it often, which would explain why I might have a few grammar mistakes, but a broader vocabulary than some modern nineteen-year-old.

2. I know that I left all of you on a cliffhanger. I'm sorry. I realized a little too late that I was going to be...well, late, to my doctor's appointment and because of my illnesses all pregnancy thus far, I did not want to miss it in case I was given vital information. You understand, right? Besides, I didn't think that anybody would see it. Who gives a damn about a small town girl with a possible internet stalker?Apparently, a lot of people.

3. Thank you, to those of you who told me my story last week was boring. I know. It has only just begun, calm down. Alright, if you are still here reading this after all of my droning on, congratulations. You are one of the few human beings who has more of an attention span than a mouse. Read on J

So, I guess this is my life now. Where I left you off I had promised to continue the story the next day…oops. Anyhow, my boyfriend Harvey and I had just finished trolling the message sender, writing to them that his relationship with this “Florentina” seemed rough and maybe the dude needed some relationship counseling. It was funnier when it happened. But, then again everything seems funnier to me when Harvey is around.

Like I said in my last post, he has a great sense of humor and figured that since I put so much of my life online through my youtube channel and countless social media accounts, a fan had tried to troll me and had succeeded. Easy enough for me to swallow, so I agreed, he left, and I took a nap.

The next day was my first day of online school. I was meant to be going into my sophomore year of college at the University of Delaware, but my pregnancy had left me feeling so sick and depressed that I tended to have trouble getting out of bed, so online schooling seemed to be the easiest solution to my dilemma of wanting to learn, but being physically unable to go and learn. I was sitting on my bed, lights off so that the room was pitch black. The walls are navy blue and my curtains are a thick gray, so despite it being around noon, there was no light in my bedroom. I had just woken up, my fatigue getting the best of me, though it was earlier than I had been awake all summer. I opened my computer, but before I could check and see my first day of school assignments, I saw that I had gotten an email.

Florentina my love. I see you through your window, and I watch you breathe as you slumber. I wish to be next to you for eternity, but glass parts us. I miss you. Visit me sometime, darling. For if you do not wish to greet me by the river, I will give my love to another.

Fucking weird, I know. The old-timey language made me feel uncomfortable, and if it wasn’t for my love of horror movies, which almost left me immune to creepy shit like this, I would have been terrified. The only thing that kept me calm was the fact that I KNEW that there was no way anyone was staring through my window at night. Why? Because.

No, that isn’t my explanation! Really, no one could reach my house besides my neighbors, who I was fairly certain weren’t pulling these pranks on me.

I live in Dover, Delaware, in a big house, in a forest, off of a highway. The entrance to turn off of the highway is covered by heavy brush, so you have to be fully aware that it is there to see it. Once you make the turn, you have to drive down a steep, bumpy hillside through the forest. There are fifteen houses, fourteen of which cannot be seen from the highway. Basically, if you don’t know that there is a neighborhood down there, you can’t see it. That being said, leaving the neighborhood is equally as difficult as entering, and so our neighbors have developed a close relationship with us in the decade we have lived here, and I had often played with the other kids in the river that runs behind the houses, or the jungle jim that all of the fathers came together to build.

So, with that information you can see why nobody was looking through my window; nobody can find it. And, even if they could, you’d need a ladder. It isn’t possible and I didn’t even want to entertain the idea of it. So, I brushed it off and did my school work.

That night, I went out to dinner with my childhood best friend Daniel. He is the type of guy who has been in a fair share of relationships, and set me up with my first boyfriend, a total asshole who cheated on me after we had been dating for a year and a half.

For a girl who is expecting, and has a loving boyfriend, I hate romance. I don’t see why people can’t be independent and live their own life without having to share it. I guess that makes me a hypocrite. Anyway, I was eating with Daniel and we were waiting for the check to arrive. As I was shoving salad into my face in the crassest way possible, our waiter came to the table, laying down the check, and then holding out a piece of paper to me. The paper was yellow and lined from what I could see, and the ink was bleeding onto his fingers where he was holding the paper. He smiled a bright, warm smile. One that you would expect a waiter to wear when they bid you good bye after your meal. “A man came in and told me to give this to the young lady at table 7…I presume that is you?” He said, nodding his head a little toward the paper.

He had been holding it for too long, but my social anxiety took over my body too much that I could hardly reach out and take it from him. I did, but not before half of the ink had already blead into his palm. He left without a word, and I smoothed out the paper to read it carefully.

“Harvey wrote you a love letter?” Daniel asked. I shook my head with a little bit of a laugh, because he knew that Harvey and I don’t do those types of things. We aren’t a sappy couple. I mean, we only just celebrated our one-year anniversary yesterday, we weren’t madly in love or anything. So, I reviewed the note, asked the waiter if he wrote it, asked him to describe the man, and asked Daniel if he was playing a joke on me. This is what I got:

• 1.Florentina, you have wronged me. You haven’t reciprocated my love. Fine. I will mo_ e on. I have found a new love, R_ _ _. She loves me like you never did. Go on, and love that _ _ n that I saw you with the other night. How could h _ poss_ _ ly love you like I have. I _i_ h you the best, as _ _ both move on, and _ rea_ _ new _ _ _ _ _ with other people.

I love solving riddles and puzzles, but my head hurts so bad right now that I can’t be bothered to decipher. Please, write down below what you think the message says. If I don’t know, I may just go insane.

• 2.The waiter said he had not written it, and that he could prove it because he had been in the kitchen when the man walked through the door, but was told by another waitress to talk to the man since he was serving my table, not the waitress. She was questioned, and witnesses said that they saw the man walk in with the note, and it had not been written inside of the restaurant.

• 3.The man wasn’t particularly tall, he had curly black hair, but wore a long beige jacket so long that it covered the rest of his face. He had an undetermined accent.

• 4.Daniel was not playing a joke. I could tell from his face. We had known each other since we were infants and he has never lied to me.

So, I leave you with this tonight. I am heading to bed, but I will hopefully write soon. Something happened to me yesterday and today, in fact, but I can’t write about that right now. Not with this migraine. Please, if you are still reading this try to decode the message. I’m sure for some it is simple, but I just can’t do it in this state. I’ll see you guys tomorrow, please continue sending me your stories of similar occurrences, I’d love to see how you escaped them.

-Violet