Jasmine Daniele

"The mail carrier"


The mail carrier was a senile man in his late sixties who did not heed the orders

of the sender. When Mrs. Halding informed Mr. Frewer that the telegraph was urgent,

he muttered under his breath and set out in his carriage at his usual pace of one mile

per two hours. The telegraph was supposed to reach Mr. Sawyer no later than two

hours after it was sent, but it did not reach the woodshop for six hours. Immediately

after being placed in Mr. Andrew Sawyer’s hand, the envelope was ripped apart and the

contents read swiftly. The man did not have to read the letter thoroughly as he was able

to understand the just of the message by finding the keywords. Andrew thanked Mr.

Frewer and hurried him out of his shop so he could close down.

Within the hour Mr. Sawyer was trotting away in his horse. With ease, he pressed

the spurs of his boot into the thigh of his steed, Everest, enough to irk him into a faster

speed. The six hours that it took Mr. Frewer to make from the house to the shop could

be reduced by two thirds if Andrew pressed on at this pace. The leather of the saddle

was beginning to wear onto his calves. They were sore and begging for him to stop the

vigorous trek, especially on the uneven terrain. But he was determined to make it home

as promptly as possible; there was much at stake when he would arrive there. Over

the course of his ride, the sky had drastically changed from a pleasant blue to a dark,

depressing gray. Andrew could sense the storm, lingering in the sharp air, but refused

to acknowledge it. He and Everest could ride it out, he was sure. Andrew jumped

slightly as a crack of thunder rumbled over his head. Thankfully for him, he arrived at his

house right as the rain tumbled down. Dismounting and running towards the front door,

Andrew reached for the knob, he became irritated when he found it locked. He was at

his house, for God’s sake, and he was locked out of it? He banged loudly amidst the

heavy flow of rain and the incessant thunder and lightning.

“Open the door!” He screamed, his fist still beating at the door. After what

seemed like eternity, the wooden door creaked open enough to let the man through. He

pushed the rest of the door open and ran to the bedroom. The first thing he processed

when he entered the room was Mrs. Halding sitting on the edge of the bed crying. No.

His eyes immediately shifted to the bed and to the woman laying in it. Her eyes were

closed and her arms were gently folded in her lap. No. Andrew rushed to the bedside

and lifted the woman’s head.

“No.” He spoke aloud. He pressed his ear to her neck: silence. He put his fingers

to her wrist: nothing.

“No.” He uttered more intensely, brushing the woman’s hair out of her eyes.

“No. No. No!” He cried, tears dropping from his cheeks to hers as he hung his

head over hers. Andrew held her head tightly to his chest, his hand stroking her golden

Andrew wanted to curse Mr. Frewer for being so incompetent. If the letter was

put into his hands four hours earlier, he could have made it to her and helped her

survive. He wanted to curse the fortune teller at the circus. He could replay every

minute of the scene vividly in his mind. The carnival was in town for just one week and

Amy was begging him to take. Her womanly ways finally got to him and he gave in

and took her. They bought some popcorn and passed by a Fortune Teller’s booth on

their way to the Ferris wheel. Amy tugged at Andrew’s arm, leading him towards the

booth. He protested at first, but his desire to make her happy was stronger than his own

feelings. He peeled back the curtain to reveal an old man sitting criss cross behind a

glass ball. He ordered them to sit, which they did, as he read their fortunes. The words

still pierced in his head, ‘You will die in childbirth.’ At this point, Andrew was fuming mad

and confused. He abruptly stood up and took his wife by her hand and marched out of

the tent. Who was he to tell them that she was going to die?

Andrew forgot about the man’s words after a while, but a few months later when

he came home from work Amy turned to him in bed and told him she was pregnant.

Excitement and utter horror were the two most potent feelings in his body at that

moment. He hid the horror and hugged Amy tightly, deciding against reminding her

about the fortune teller’s words.

And now here he was, holding her limp and motionless body, sobbing and hating

himself for not being there. He heard Mrs. Halding clear her throat behind him.

“Andrew?”

The broken man turned his head towards Mrs. Halding and his eyes gazed on a

baby wrapped gently in a blanket.

“Amy asked that she be named Andrea.”

Andrew slowly reached for the girl and pulled her towards his chest. The love of

his life had died, but a new one had been graciously put into the world by God.