The Land of The Lost - Chapter II

It had all started with a letter. He got home from work, left his car in the parking lot just outside his beautiful stone-walled house and walked to the front gate. His hands searched for the key to the mailbox behind rock. He reached for it, opened it and found a letter. Like so many others that arrived by mail everyday. He didn’t care. Folded it, slid it to his pocket and walked into the house, with a big smile on his face: a promotion. His wife was cooking dinner, his two children were playing outside, the sun was shining and the air had this roastbeef essence. Everything seemed to be going well for him…
He walked into his study and as he removed the jacket, the letter fell. He picked it up and opened it quickly, not caring about who the sender was. He sat down at the armchair, glared quickly at the ceiling and began to read.

“Dear Mário,

I haven’t forgotten you, although I’m sure you don’t remember me. I doubt you would. The big city makes people forget their origins… Makes them forger their values, principles and beliefs. With you it would be no different.
See, we aren’t as isolated as we used to be when we were teenagers… The café owner decided to buy a TV. It came from the big city. Everyday, people sit in the café and stare pointlessly at the little black box hearing about the world, after so many years in complete ignorance. And one day we saw you on the news. You’re a big shot now, eh? Owner of one of the biggest telemarketing corporations at such a young age? When we were little we had never heard of telemarketing before…
So I guess you’re still wondering how I found you. I asked the mail man personally if he could find you and deliver this to you. Now that you’re a star, you must be too busy to answer letters. I hope you can answer this letter.
The TV pretty much gave us the answer you refused to give us all these years, which was the reason why you went there, in the middle of the night, and never came back. You always wanted too much.
Everyone is eager to see you. You can’t blame them, they haven’t seen you in more than 10 years!
Sincerily yours,

Ema”

He closed his eyes, and felt himself go back about 30 years before, as a teenager, living in that nameless village, lost somewhere where the skies are blue and there’s grass as far as the eyes can see. He remembered Ema – she was this girl, as old as he was. They used to hang around, go cycling in the fields, climbing the old oak tree and counting the stars while her head rested on his shoulder. That was it, he couldn’t remember anything else. But why had she sent him a letter, after so many years? And why her? He kept the letter in the drawer, locked it and left the study.

Days passed, and he kept thinking about this Ema… And he slowly began to put the puzzle pieces together and to construct an image, until he could see her perfectly inside his head. He did remember her.

They were both 16, she was a curly haired brunette with big, hazel eyes. She had small, callous hands from working in the fields for so long. She had small, red lips and smelled of lavender. He knew this because it was during one of those nights, when they were watching the stars, that they had professed their love for each other and fell within eachother’s arms. They had shared this intense friendship and love for a long time, since they were little kids who played on the dusty trail. But Ema… She had always been sick, all her life. She had a disease no one knew, not even the village’s doctor. The only way they could find a cure was to go the big city, but she way afraid, so she stayed in the village. She was a pale and fragile human being, condemned to suffer her whole life from something she did not know what was the cause or what was the treatment. Even so, she had always been happy, and smiling. He remembered her: happy and smiling Ema.

He chose not to reply, he’d rather not make a fool of himself by going back. He didn’t know anyone anymore.

If only the letters stopped coming…