Short Story

I decided to post a short story I wrote about three months ago...please tell me what you think!

(Oh, and by the way...you should really check out this very cool knitting blog: http://knittinggoddesswithacat.blogspot.com/)

The White Envelope

Gray. Everything was gray: the trees, the streams, the grass. That was why I was leaving. I needed to escape the gray. My legs rattled as the train pressed through the countryside. My fingers toyed with the brown envelope which was tucked inside the pocket of my wool jacket. I slid it out, and dumped the contents onto my lap: a picture, a ticket, and a note. I examined the faded picture, cut out of a magazine, which had hung by my bed since childhood. It was the city of my dreams, shining like glass against a cobalt sky. Even as a young girl, my head had been filled with one desire, to travel to this city. Now the wish was becoming reality. I caressed the ticket with my fingers. When my mother had given me my inheritance, she knew at once what I would do with it. I remembered the shadows under my mother’s eyes and the unspoken words on her lips as she watched me drive away. But the strength of her embrace and the warm grip of her hand filled me with the promise of her permanent affection. Picking up the wrinkled note, I reviewed my plans. I would study at the most prestigious university in the country, dance the nights away in expensive dresses, and become as famous as my talents would allow. Knowledge, amusement, and success - that was all I asked of my perfect city. My mother was now alone in the world of gray, while I was finally free to fly into a world of color.

Every night I sat in a cramped dorm room at the top of a middle-aged building. My desk was swamped in masses of papers and books. I studied until my eyes could no longer see clearly. I stuffed my mind with facts until it was fat with information. I barred out all other thoughts. But when I unlocked the door to my room one evening, a perfectly-white envelope lay on my dresser. My eyes narrowed. Biting my lip, I emptied it out onto the floor. A folded letter and a ticket slid out. Without opening the message, I discarded them into the wastebasket which sat next to my newest pile of knowledge.

A yellowed scroll was between my fingers and a slippery graduate’s hat sat on my head. I watched the people around me. All were somber. All were cold. All were gray. Bowing my head, I held back bitter tears. I was no longer blissfully unaware of the world and its sorrow. Knowledge did not bring happiness. It was a lie. Wisdom brought grief and nothing else. I crumbled the pristine envelope I had received that morning, threw it on the sidewalk, and flattened it with my foot. I turned to the street and walked away.

The lights of a twinkling club danced before me. Leaving discernment to the wind, I slipped through the illuminated door. The room swayed. I felt giddy, drunk with the laughter that tinted the air. The clink of wine glasses, the swish of a skirt, and music that woke the neighbors three blocks down drowned out all thought. My investment in a shimmering scarlet dress, sharp silver heels, and gaudy emerald necklace were perfect in attracting the attention I had imagined for so long. I giggled in the arms of a stranger as we careened down the floor that flickered with neon lights. A drummer crooned in the corner, the cymbals crashing. The rainbow of shades engulfed me as we twirled past slurred conversations and fawning couples. No gray here. My mouth formed a stained smile.

The bitter air woke me. My head throbbed as I endeavored to sit up. My dress and shoes of yesterday were crumpled on the floor, their allure drained away. The emerald lay as if thrown across the room. It glared dully in the sober morning light. Collapsing back on my bed, I wrapped my face in my icy hands. I was too cold to cry. A hollow, flimsy feeling filled my chest. The colors of last night’s pleasure were a sham. Through the clear light of day, their colors shone true - cheap and transparent. A flash of white caught my eye. On top of my dresser sat the latest envelope, forgotten in the rush of yesterday. It seemed to illuminate the room with its spotlessness. I felt a slice of longing for such unpolluted clarity before sleep conquered all thought.

The museum’s clean lines painted an elegant contrast against the dark clouds pregnant with snow. Pulling off my glove, I pushed open the frosted glass door and stopped. My breath caught in my throat. The hall was like a lake at sunrise; still and dazzling. My heels clicked on the polished floor as I gazed at the pictures hung on the wall. Each was a miracle of shades. Each was a masterpiece. I explored the silent passages, soaking in the magnificence. As I walked, I studied the gold plaques beneath the paintings, wishing to see my name engraved on each. The letter I had picked up at the post office moments before lay forgotten in my pocket. My head was filled with dreams of achievement. Reaching the seventh floor, I devoured the paintings, each more glorious than the next. I arrived at the end of the corridor and paused. On the wall hung a picture with tones so clean it burned my soul. Here, at last, was color in its purest form. I read the artist’s name beneath the frame, and realized his name was on every plaque on this floor. I carelessly skimmed the paragraph about his life but froze when the final lines caught my eye. “Despite his successful career, this genius suffered from depression. When he was thirty eight years old, he killed himself.” I stepped backward. The hues of the painting stabbed me. Tripping over my feet, I ran down the halls and burst out of the door. The snowflakes stung my face, but I ran on. Could anything satisfy the hollow in my mind? But the void was not in my mind; it was in my heart.

I slipped into bed and closed my eyes. My money was gone and this night was my last in the apartment. My plans had collapsed. Here I lay, in the city of my dreams, still cold and still gray. A rap on my door burst my morose thoughts. Sitting up, I watched as a luminous envelope was slipped under my door. It lay on the shabby carpet, glistening.

With slow, shaking movements, I bent and picked up the letter. I tenderly peeled back the seal and slipped out a letter. As I read the single sentence written on the paper, a ticket slipped from the envelope and floated to the ground. I looked at the ticket, and then at the letter.

I fell on the bed and wept.

The raindrops pelted the windshield as the cab pulled up at the small, brick house. As I jogged up the steps to the crooked porch, I took in the weeds of the flowerbed and the peeling paint on the single rocking chair. This place was more alive than any skyscraper. Turning the brass doorknob, I sprinted – no, flew – up the creaky staircase. I knew the way to my mother’s room by heart. There she lay, asleep on the bed. I sat in the rickety chair next to the bedside table. The drawer was open, and I glanced at its contents. A neat stack of envelopes, a pad of paper, an ink pen, a pack of stamps, a wallet, and a ticket lay in the dusky light of a small lamp. I grasped the wallet. A ten dollar bill and receipts for all the items on the table was all that was left in it.

My mother’s blue eyes fluttered open. A heavenly smile emerged on her face, and without a sound, she pulled me into her embrace. After several moments, she released me and clutched for the notepad. As she pressed it into my hands, I read the sentence printed in her trembling writing. “I love you.” I reached for her hand. In that instant, I realized my quest for happiness could never be fulfilled in knowledge, or pleasure, or success. Those things would fulfill for a day, but they would not survive the test of time. But love, true love would never fall short. Love encompassed every virtue and passed every barrier. My mother’s eyes closed once more. The sun began to rise. The beauty of the burnt oranges and bright pinks could not compare to the splendor of the rosy blush on my mother’s cheeks and the warm clasp of her hand. I turned to the dim mirror on the wall and beamed. My mother’s radiance reflected on my face. I was no longer gray. I was a rainbow of color.