The Post-man tried to walk up the stairs without making a sound. Somehow the old-man heard him and opened the door.
“Any letters from my son?”
Every day the old-man had asked this question for the last year.
Every time the answer had been the same, “No, if there was a letter, I will deliver it to you.”
Then the old-man would sigh, shake his head and go back, closing the door behind him.
The man’s son had died. No one had the heart to tell him. Some thought he knew but did not want to accept it.
“Any letters from my son?”
The Post-man had come prepared, “Yes, ” he said.
“Please can you read it?”
The post-man knew that the Old-man could not read.
Pulling out a scrap of paper from his pocket, he started, “Dear father, I hope this letter finds you in good health…..”
Very sad
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Like life at times 🙂
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Dad’s are tough. And to me that oldman’s dead son is kind of archetypical. It symbolizes somewhat those sons who broke away from their fathers. It’s tough but many fathers lose their sons to death or to dishonor. I see my reflection in that archetype of the dead son. I applaud your writing ability. Very much.
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Thanks for taking the time to read the story
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Love the ending. Heartwarming.
Keep writing, my friend.
Spread the human kindness. 🥰
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