It was a quiet Tuesday afternoon when Emma Thompson, a 17-year-old high school student, found the letter. It was tucked beneath the old doormat of House No. 42 on Maple Street — an abandoned house that had stood silently for over a decade, gathering dust and whispers of forgotten memories.
Emma wasn’t supposed to be there. Her mother had warned her countless times to stay away from that side of the neighborhood. But curiosity, as it often does with teenagers, had a stronger pull than fear.
She picked up the yellowed envelope. It was sealed, with shaky handwriting that read: “To whoever finds this.”
Emma hesitated for a moment before opening it. The paper inside was fragile, and the ink had faded in places, but the words were still legible:
"If you're reading this, you must be the one. I don’t know your name, but I’ve been waiting for you. This house holds a secret. Not of ghosts or treasures, but of a promise — a promise I couldn’t keep. Please, go to the attic. You'll understand."
Chills ran down Emma’s spine. The house groaned softly as if exhaling after holding its breath for too long. Her heart pounded, but she couldn’t stop herself from entering.
The inside was as she had imagined — dust-laden furniture, cobwebs swaying in the sunlight, and silence that felt too heavy. She found the staircase and climbed to the attic.
It was there she found a small, wooden chest. Inside were photographs — black and white, curled at the edges. A young man and a woman, smiling, standing in front of the same house she was in. Letters were scattered around, filled with words of love, separation, and longing.
One letter, dated 1955, stood out. It read:
"My dearest Lily, if this letter ever reaches you, know that I waited. I waited beneath the oak tree every Sunday, just like we promised. But time was cruel, and life even more so. I couldn’t find you, but I never stopped hoping. This house... it’s where we dreamed of growing old together. If fate has any kindness left, someone will find this and remember us."
Emma sat down, overwhelmed. The weight of lost love, unfulfilled promises, and years of waiting echoed in her heart. She realized that the man had kept coming back, week after week, year after year, holding onto hope that Lily would return.
But she never did.
As Emma left the house, she looked at the old oak tree across the street. It stood tall and proud, as if guarding the memories of those who once loved beneath its branches. She decided then and there to share their story — a tale of timeless love that deserved to be remembered.
And from that day, House No. 42 wasn’t just an abandoned place. It became known as “The House of the Last Letter.”
Written by Aghastya Tripathi
Published by Novel Mint Publishing