This story came from a wonderful chance find in Skoob
, a second hand bookshop in London. Maria opened Tom Wolfe’s “From Bauhaus To Our House
” and in the back page was this incomplete story. What’s more, a postcard was wedged inside the back that had early drafts scribbled on it, all but illegible.
I considered continuing the story but I think its power comes from its incompleteness; all tension, no release.
I am wondering where this writer was when he was struck with the idea. Did he happen to have this card? Or did he ask for it inside Wanda’s classics (a shop I can find no evidence of anymore)? And having drafted it, he scribbled it down into the book, and then… did it become part of a larger narrative? A search for the sentences didn’t reveal anything online. Or did he forget about it entirely, and this book found its way donated to Skoob and then into our hands and out into the world via Postcardwala.
Thank you anonymous author.
|sent from: London, UK. destination: Santa Monica, California, USA
They came for her at nightfall. For seven hours she had squatted in the cellar, gnawing at her fingernails until they were raw. The room itself did not scare her. It reminded her of the little rooms she had come to know in the Home, with bars on the windows and crucifixes on the walls. What was frightening was the terrible not-knowing. Then when she had bitten her left thumbnail it seemed to the bone, the bolt in the door creaked. The padlock key –
– Author unknown