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The Outbreak: Letters (1)
#WritcoStoryPrompt86 (80)
P.S. This is one of my self-indulgent lengthy works (Off topic warning).
O Sweet Mina,
Ay, good bidings from ye, thy worries unraveled; whence t'is disheartening pain, from thy soul to yonder. Your second trimester hath come, thou art assured - your tender words speak true to thy fragile mind.
Good grief, enough frolicking about; you'd say. I guess you didn't know how much relief your mere words (slanted: /yes, mere words!/) brings and means to me. Can't help grinning from ear to ear - thou shall be the father of the Abigail, child o sweetest like flowing milk and honey! Should she bear even a fraction of her mother's splendor, she'd shine gloriously like the morning star, yielding jealousy from Venus, overshading Adonis, beaconing and towering over the night as the only light!
My frolick-ness apparently cannot be stopped without you putting sense into me, my Saint; the lack of your serene, imposing presence in your last letter saddens even the strongest of man. Have I, beautiful Adonis, lost my charm over you, my lady? Over countless restless nights, turning and tossing over my blankets - I decided I missed your scathing comments (slanted: /have you finally LOST it?/), got up and wrote you this, which I hope is a pleasant surprise.
I am well, North Antarctica, the land of ice and snow, has an overabundance of floating glaciers. No, I have yet to see the-polar-bear-of-your-dreams, which is a good thing I suppose, since it wouldn't end without a strife in jealousy or animosity between it and I - one cannot live while the other survives. If I happened to meet one and cannot return, mourn for your husband killed-by-love-rivals-including-bears.
Worry not, I enjoy the highest tier of life quality: all-year-round freeee (-zing) open-air conditioning, atmospheric flickering LEDs, and a nice background ambience (my fellow researcher/roommate screamed and threw a pillow at me) where I write this 'frolicsome' letter that you laughingly called.
The only one missing is you. My irritable mind can only (and barely!) hold together with the thought of you. Wife WANTED. If this persists, at the end of the year, you'll hear the death of me in the mouth of keen neighbors...
P.S. This is one of my self-indulgent lengthy works (Off topic warning).
O Sweet Mina,
Ay, good bidings from ye, thy worries unraveled; whence t'is disheartening pain, from thy soul to yonder. Your second trimester hath come, thou art assured - your tender words speak true to thy fragile mind.
Good grief, enough frolicking about; you'd say. I guess you didn't know how much relief your mere words (slanted: /yes, mere words!/) brings and means to me. Can't help grinning from ear to ear - thou shall be the father of the Abigail, child o sweetest like flowing milk and honey! Should she bear even a fraction of her mother's splendor, she'd shine gloriously like the morning star, yielding jealousy from Venus, overshading Adonis, beaconing and towering over the night as the only light!
My frolick-ness apparently cannot be stopped without you putting sense into me, my Saint; the lack of your serene, imposing presence in your last letter saddens even the strongest of man. Have I, beautiful Adonis, lost my charm over you, my lady? Over countless restless nights, turning and tossing over my blankets - I decided I missed your scathing comments (slanted: /have you finally LOST it?/), got up and wrote you this, which I hope is a pleasant surprise.
I am well, North Antarctica, the land of ice and snow, has an overabundance of floating glaciers. No, I have yet to see the-polar-bear-of-your-dreams, which is a good thing I suppose, since it wouldn't end without a strife in jealousy or animosity between it and I - one cannot live while the other survives. If I happened to meet one and cannot return, mourn for your husband killed-by-love-rivals-including-bears.
Worry not, I enjoy the highest tier of life quality: all-year-round freeee (-zing) open-air conditioning, atmospheric flickering LEDs, and a nice background ambience (my fellow researcher/roommate screamed and threw a pillow at me) where I write this 'frolicsome' letter that you laughingly called.
The only one missing is you. My irritable mind can only (and barely!) hold together with the thought of you. Wife WANTED. If this persists, at the end of the year, you'll hear the death of me in the mouth of keen neighbors...
