The letter of truth by Soungjin (e ink manga reader .txt) 📕

“Excuse me sir, excuse me. Yes, I am James Willian, yes I’m here to meet with Sir, captain, Timothy, yes he is my uncle” James was in the local hospital. He was looking for his uncle. 404, 404, 404, James would rant to see his cranky uncle. 404, of there it is, James though. He found his uncle’s room. The nurse asked him for his details, name, age and reason for coming. James replied simply, James Willian, 20, my uncle. The nurse made a nod and went inside of the room. James took of his leather coat and his hat.
James was a noble class family. Although his family was long gone, he was living in luxury. His father used to serve to the king as the advisor. He had a moustache and a short beard. He was young, 20 he was. He was tall, and well known. He wore a black suit to meet his, as he likes to say, uncle of 14th century.
“Get him in.”
James heard thunder inside of the room. The nurse came out, making another fast nod and left. He went in carefully, trying to take away attention. He put his coat and his hat in the table beside the door. He made a knock
“Hello uncle, it’s splendid to meet you.
As James went in, there was his uncle, short but strong. He looked like in his early 40s. He was sitting in the bed looking through the widow and looked back to James. The eyes that glared at him looked like an eagle’s climax of catching its prey. The long rectangular face, that symbols Napoleon, shadows the wall. His long nose pointed straight to him.
“Hello… who are you sir? Are you sure you’re in the right place?” Uncle ranted
“Uncle its me, James, your nephew calm down,” James spoke with little care.
Uncle quickly looked back facing towards the window. He seems to be facing at the shore line outside, where sailors load and unload to their ship to engage the German Empire. He stayed low for a while. James didn’t know what or how badly it happened that his uncle, for the first time felt….depressed? He stood up tapping in this old uncle’s shoulder. Uncle quickly looked back, refusing to talk to him.
The room around was small and compact for a person who will be staying for the next few weeks. There was the wooden drawer next to the door. The wall was ripped white. The door and the chair stayed together next to the drawer. That was all for the room, drawer, table, chair, bed and a window. James could see couple of cups, a pot of tea, bunch of old clothings, a left over bread and his glasses in the window. James thought 2 things, boring and dull.
“Uncle, if you have a problem you can talk to me, why are you like this, you always stand against our meeting and never sat down until you get what you wanted. You are a rich man, where did your strength go?” James asked. James, who was now 20 and a collage graduate, tried to stay out of this situation, but his grandparents and his siblings died in France, where there was war between the European nations. His dad ran away at the young age. Later when James was 10, his mother introduced him his uncle, to the house. The uncle visited often but continued to boss him around, like his father.
The uncle he used to know now just vaporized in thin air. Everything changed his clothing, his style of fashion, personality and his eager attitude. As James realized his Uncle used to live in the southern part of the English channel. He lived in a mansion, with some maid. James had never been to his house and thought about going. James was happy where he lived, in the city, where technology bloomed and people were protection.
James was surprised when his uncle didn’t say anything for a quite a long time. Although James knew he had to start talking to take away the awkwardness in the room, he asked “Uncle, what happened to you? I thought were on your way to France, but what are you doing here?”
The uncle spoke nothing much, not a word for a minute. James though it was not appropriate to force him to talk so he just waited, waited until the uncle started to speak, weirdly and strangely.
“Have you ever felt that modernism is changing everyone’s life?” the uncle chanted to the window, stared to me, and looked back to the window. As James see Uncle was looking at the new motorized car and trains which he had never seen, well in his life.
“Pardon?” James replied, tilting his head to the right. He hasn’t understood what his uncle said. James mind was full of confinement, what was he talking about? Although he’d knew it was uncle’s first time in the city, he had never expected that question out of all of what his uncle asked.
Uncle turned back to James, James tried to loose eye contact but his eye lured him in. Sadness, sadness filled his mind. He uncle didn’t say anything but his lips moved.
“The city outside was blooming with cars and trains, pathetic!” Uncle said, his face was now trying to fit in a dot. He was mad alright. As James realized, his uncle, who was usually unclear of his goal, was a traditionalist.
The uncle was mad for modernism, as James guessed. But the confusing thing is why is his uncle here ? Why not in France with his butler for a trip?
James hesistated to ask but he was scared. The uncle showed no sign of care or activeness, but something shocked him.
“I want to give you this before I die,” The uncle spoke slowly, surprisingly which made James very shocked. He tried to eschew this situation but he still wanted to know. Why he came.
The uncle silently laughed. James, who was mindless, was not on his right mind, am I seeing things right or not.
The uncle stood up, got the wooden chair next to him and asked him again the same question, now silently and seeming more important than his ranting over debt problems.
He sat down, sipping a cup of coffee. He gave James an envelope, which seems to be couple of years old.
James was confused, to accept it or not, budging his hand. His hand was wiggling, that his senses told him to grab it. He grabbed the side of the envelope, taking it away from his uncle’s moldy hand. James tried to tear open the envelope, seeing the content of it. But his uncle laid his hand on the envelope,
“Later, after you leave me, or maybe after I die, for now keep it as your treasure,” The uncle spoke, with his straight face staring at his eyes. The wideness of the uncle’s eye aware him, he nodded, put the envelope in his pocket, acting like this event never happened.
But soon the uncle’s expression changed too, he was back to his non-sense talking and James was back to listening. James, in the other hand, was tempted to open it before leaving him. But that would disobey his uncle, as maybe his final request. James hid his hand in his left pocket, where he had left the envelope. His had was moving around the pocket, trying to find the flap. His uncle kept jabbering about life and people around. James made a quick stare to the left, turned back to uncle and acted as if the ant crawled in his crouch.
But the uncle was acumen.
“You wanted to read it right?’
James was partially shocked and amazed, quickly putting his hand to his back. The uncle leaned his body to the right, as James’s perspective, looking at the pocket. He leaned back, facing toward him, like a hostile encounter. His eyes glared at him, one was open, and the other one was twitching. James knew he should change the topic before any serious events occur and get his envelope snatched back. Quickly James asked another topic, is his butler good for service? His uncle quickly, again, changed attitude. Blabbering about his butler, there was a knock, “Mr. William, Your time is up, Timothy needs to go to his dinner.”
‘Well then, looks like our time is up, see you later around,” the uncle stood up, patting James’s back, walking away with the nurse. James look back at his uncle, who also looked back and smiled, and went away. James opened the envelope, got the old letter, which looks like from 7 years ago or so, read it quickly. He was doing nothing much but read. It was a apology letter:
Dear James William
I have been sorry about you being alone with your mom after I left you. I am dearly sorry. I have to keep away the truth though, but by the time you read this, I think you are ready to face the truth, the truth has to be told inorder to cleanse myself, from the irritability from holding it. I am sorry for it, as your father would be proud of you I am accually…….
The rest were dark and not lucid. He folded the letter, put it back to the envelope, brought it with him and went away.

Publication Date: 07-31-2012

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