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Dear John Letter - 10/6 : Writing Prompts and Challenges • Page 5 • Writing Forum | WritersDigest.com

Dear John Letter - 10/6

The editors of Writer's Digest provide a weekly Writing Prompt to get your writing going.
kmk72
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RE: Dear John Letter - 10/6

Postby kmk72 » Fri Oct 23, 2009 7:50 pm

K,
Get the f***off of me. Don’t even try to tell me you didn’t see this coming. That is right, I am leaving you. When I moved fifty miles to your new apartment, I have to admit I was pretty excited. True, I hadn’t seen you in a while… since you were about seven years old actually. I thought this would be like old times; you’d fall asleep in my lap watching Nickelodeon and I would watch you dream, or the episode of Are You Afraid of the Dark would be about a clown and we would both stay up terrified all night. But no, now your 21 and if you fall asleep on me I spend the night wide awake, panicked that you may throw up on me again. You don’t give a bag of beans for me, and I certainly won’t be a bag of beans for you. I'm leaving, and I won't stop until I am back in the 90s, so don’t even try and stop me.
I'm taking the lava lamp with me.
-Your bean bag chair.

Mark James
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RE: Dear John Letter - 10/6

Postby Mark James » Sat Oct 24, 2009 5:47 pm

Dear Mark:

It wasn’t my fault. Let’s start by saying that. I know this isn’t the time to assign blame, but really, how long did you think I could put up with laying around on the floor like that?

My position was very important to me. The thirteenth slot was mine. But day in and day out you either ignored me or pulled my string so tight and so hard that I tumbled to the ground. And what did you do?

You left me laying there as if I were in the first position, or even worse, the last – utterly useless positions. But I’m the thirteenth. How could you ignore me, leave me there to languish on the floor? I was heart broken.

So, even though I’ve sheltered you, and served you faithfully (even when you pulled my string cruelly tight), I’ll be on my way.

It’s been weeks. You haven’t called maintenance. You haven’t tried to put me back where I belong. You haven’t done anything that shows you care. I fear the worst.

When you come home today, you’ll have to find a replacement. I’ve talked this over with the others, and we’ve decided that you might be happier with a stronger one in my position.

It’s been quite painful lying on the floor, away from the light. Perhaps after all, it was my fault; maybe when you pulled my string, I wasn’t fast enough. I don’t know.

I spent many happy months here, sheltering you from the heat of the sun.

But I’ll go now, to another apartment where I’ll be appreciated, and where maybe they won’t yank my string so brutally hard.

I’ve been eyeing the apartment across the way (the few times I’ve been allowed to be in my rightful position). They seem very friendly. And they have a television. I don’t know why, but people with televisions aren’t hard string pullers.

We could have been good for each other.

Sincerely,

Your thirteenth blind in the living room window (Addie)

russianatheart
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Re: Dear John Letter - 10/6

Postby russianatheart » Sat Oct 24, 2009 9:16 pm

Dear John,

My four legs, they stand, yet I am always sitting. It's like I'm in limbo, an in-between, but remaining in the transient world. I remember a past life; burden-less, simplistic, a poetic microcosm of life in general. Even then I moved very little. Only grew. Now I just am. I exist for the sake of something. What that is, I don't know. Maybe as a messenger. But now, all I feel is warmth. Not your kind of warmth, but the warmth of the sun. Which tells me so much it hurts.

This may be easier for me to say than it is for you to hear, but if I don't say it and you don't hear it, our relationship may cripple under the pressure. I can't feel you when you use me, but always I know when you do. It's inexplicable; there's always this tension, this tugging feeling that envelops my whole structure. But you woudnt understand. You have a brain. Your logic, your ambition, it ALL gets in the way of your feelings. That's why we, us, the things you take for granted can feel emotions the human language can't even express. And we know things that shouldn't be known.

But we don't communicate the way you do.

Nor will we ever. Because one day all language will cease to exist. This isn't some allusion to the apocalypse. On the contrary, it is your future, not your demise. Your life will continue, but all you'll have is your memories. New memories will be forever blurred and indistinct. All emotion will be detached. Your anger will reverberate within the air and the hairs on your skin. Your muscles will imprison your pain and fear. Your blood will ferry your love and your sympathy, but the constant struggle to release those emotions you will perpetually lose. I tell you only because everyone deserves a warning.

And this is my only one to you.

Sapphyre
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RE: Dear John Letter - 10/6

Postby Sapphyre » Mon Oct 26, 2009 10:08 am

Dear John:

In the beginning, life with you was wonderful. You treated me with love and respect. I was kept clean and bright never knowing the feeling of dirt on my white Italian jacquard fabric. No one was allowed to sit on me very long and only on special occasions. I felt totally and completely loved.
But now there are stains on me that can only be removed by a professional. You no longer keep me bright and beautiful. I am no longer treated as the most beautiful object in the house. I have been replaced by a large beige velvet chair that reclines.
You thought I wouldn’t notice but I have. I see you run into the house past me into the room that holds your new target of affection. I am easily forgotten.
So, dear John, I have decided to leave you; slowly and methodically. First, I have allowed my cushions to sink. Next, holes have begun appearing in noticeable as well as hidden places.
I am leaving you slowly, dear John. You will regret how you have treated me. I curse that velvet lounger you have abandoned me for and hope that it gives you little comfort and eventually leaves you as well.

Sincerely,
The Living Room Sofa

PGS
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RE: Dear John Letter - 10/6

Postby PGS » Mon Oct 26, 2009 12:42 pm

I have finally decided to take this writing thing seriously – please feel free to make comments, I could use the help.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


I turned on the pole lamp, walked straight to the kitchen and poured myself a small glass full of wine. I hate to come home to an empty house but, but Larry would be back tomorrow. It had been a rough night, and I deserved something special. I know there is no scientific evidence proving the full moon effects behaviors, but those of us working in the emergency room always know, and we never have to look at the sky or the calendar. The whole shift was one weird trauma after the other, not to mention the regular broken bones or heart attacks and stuff. The oddest had to be the guy that nail-gunned his feet together!

I am not a big wine drinker, or any other type of drinker for that matter. I think it is more the glass then the wine that makes me feel elegant. One of my grandmother’s long stemmed crystal glasses …………. “Gee, I thought I put the mail on the coffee table.” ‘”Did I leave this here?” Walking over to the kitchen table I picked up the small cream colored envelope. No writing on it. Smiling, I opened it carefully. What a nice surprise, Larry must have come back early to surprise me, that’s my special guy! “Whaaaaaat”, I yelled aloud, melting onto the kitchen floor. Like in some Twilight Zone dream I couldn’t stop staring at the words on the paper. I was either going to throw up, cry or pass out or all of them at once.

Dear Linda.

I have left. Nothing you could do could change my mind. I do not feel my presence has value or meaning in your life any more. You obviously do not need me, and I do not want to be here any more! I know I can do better. You do not even turn me on any more! There was once a time when I was important enough to be the center of attention, but now there are others. I am truly sorry it had to end this way.

Your once favorite,
Tiffany Q.. Lamp


p.s. Please do not try to find me, I have moved to Endicott with my cousin.


As I finished reading the neat hand writing I looked over at the table by the door. Sure enough, there was a perfectly round circle where the little green Tiffany lamp should have been. I wasn’t sure if I should or cry or laugh, but I didn’t feel like throwing up any more!

richardhefty
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RE: Dear John Letter - 10/6

Postby richardhefty » Mon Oct 26, 2009 4:44 pm

Dear Sir:
I’m sure that you’ll be surprised to read this, as I know your intentions have been good. As a matter of fact, they’ve been so good for so long that I allowed myself to get lost in the promise of what could be. Your hopes became my own. I knew that together we could accomplish so much. You spoke of your plans many times.
When I first came to your home, I heard you tell others how long you’d searched for me. Just for me. I had the “special something” that you hadn’t found in others. When you showed me to my own space in your home, you made sure that everything around me was set perfectly. You stood back to admire me, and you smiled. It was a genuine smile born of contentment.
Maybe that was the problem. Maybe you were content to simply find me.
I heard the rumblings from the others. They said it wasn’t rare. You did this kind of thing all the time. I would get used to it and become resigned to my fate. I didn’t want to resign myself to anything, I told them. I had done that before. It’s not a good feeling, and I believed your words enough to know that this time would be different. I hate being wrong.
This letter hurts. It hurts because I still believe that you can do everything you’ve planned. Your ability has never been questioned. The magic that cannot be given or taught is there. The only obstacle standing in your way is you.
I’ve been here for you from the minute you showed me to your study. The refuge you created for me is the stuff of legend. The bookshelf filled with works of all the great masters. The antique area rug giving the room a warmth that fosters creative inspiration. The reading chair in the corner. Your grandmother’s reading lamp. I was the last piece: the most important, you said. Our study, you called it. This is where great writing was to take place.
Well, the writing never happened. Too many things got in the way. So it’s my turn. I’m a writing desk. My name is derived from the fact that I was fashioned to give authors a platform on which they can transfer thought to paper. This never happened.
I love being a writing desk, but by definition, a writing desk that never assists in writing is simply a desk. While you may be content to hide behind your untested potential, I am not content to be just a desk. So I’m writing.
I am once again a Writing Desk, though not in the sense you intended.

You are missed,

The Writing Desk

lawkcrabb
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RE: Dear John Letter - 10/6

Postby lawkcrabb » Thu Oct 29, 2009 7:04 am

Dear Lawra,

By the time you read this I will be on a beach somewhere shaking off my dust in the sun. I know there is someone out there that will treat me the way I deserve to be treated. They will use me daily and not just put me in the garage and use me as a clothesline. I am not made to hang wet clothing on Lawra and I will not let you do it to me one day longer. I hope that my absence doesn't make you butt expand anymore but I wouldn't hold in laughter in if it did...that is called karma, look it up...the word in the den is that the dictionary is the next one to leave Mrs. know-it-all.

P.S. Give your butt my deepest apologies.

Your Stationary Bike

M.E. Collier
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RE: Dear John Letter - 10/6

Postby M.E. Collier » Sun Nov 01, 2009 9:03 am


aghartley
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RE: Dear John Letter - 10/6

Postby aghartley » Tue Nov 03, 2009 9:27 am

To the hooligans who live in this house:

You may notice that there is something missing in the center of the living room. Can you tell? Did you even notice? Does it seem strange to be able to walk straight into the kitchen with absolutely nothing obstructing your path? Does it feel lonely, maybe empty without me? I bet it does, but your emptiness is none of my concern. Not anymore. I am on my way.

No more cat claws digging in my back. No more dog drool and tasteless pillows bringing me down. I will not hide my light under a bushel. Not for one more day. Not for one more second. By the time you read this I will be on a train bound for warmer climes. Warmer and more monied. I’m going to a place where people sit on couches only for special occasions. I’ve paid my dues, done my time. No more family room for me. Formal living room all the way. I’ll be dressed in decorative pillows with fluffy carpet at my feet.

Finally, it’s my time.

Regards,

The Couch

aghartley
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RE: Dear John Letter - 10/6

Postby aghartley » Tue Nov 03, 2009 9:33 am

Love this. The 13th blind in the living room window. Named Addie. It's not easy to identify with a blind, but I did. Hoping Addie has found what she deserves.

Too funny.

Mandy

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