The Letter

The paper came from pennies made with her sweat and the muscle wrenching wringing of other people's clothes. The boiling water to wash them in had been the back breaking labor of carrying the buckets from the only tap in the square. The fire under the enormous cast iron kettle built from precious kindling. (There was no "hot and cold" here in this time and place.) The soap; sparingly shaved from a hard brick of harsh lye.

She had saved each and every penny that hadn't been needed to feed the family. Saved and saved and when her brother had finally come to rescue her with such news, she had been ready.


 For she knew that she would not, could not stay in this city!


 The filth and misery that was the place of her birth would be replaced with a greener, wider country that they promised was free of conflict between this religion and that. Cousin against cousin and neighbor against neighbor. It would never stop.


 Katie felt her red rimed eyes fill with tears as she picked up her pen to write the letter.


 Dear Mr Werbowski..... She began.....