Old Letters for justprompts
The scent of cooking (the word ‘cooking’ used in the loosest way possible) scubbo wafted through the camp; promising full, if rather sickly, stomachs soon. The regiment had stopped here for a few days, Jackrum’s little book may have been a handy weapon, but it also took far more time to use than a sword in the gut of someone in your way. Maladict had to hand it to Polly, the girl knew how not to go to war.
The vampire took a deep puff from her cigarette, watching the smoke rise and fade into the night sky. She’d been in the army for a year now, but it felt like much longer. She looked back on that first week with the fondness that recollection brings, even though deep down she knew that it was quite possibly one of the most miserable weeks of her life.
And yet...in some ways it was the best. She’d gained her freedom, she’d become an actual person (albeit a vampiric one) in her own right. No longer was she just some crazy bint who randomly appeared to seduce someone on a four poster bed with silk-bedsheets, then quickly vanished again leaving the victim to whatever fate befell them. No, those days were gone.
“Letters for you, M’am...Corporal...SIR!”
Maladict turned her head lazily in the new recruit’s direction. In an attempt to make up for the fact that he didn’t know how to address her, he was saluting excessively with a look of utter terror in his eyes. Mal suspected Threeparts had been telling stories about her again.
“Thank you, solider,” she said, reaching out and taking the envelopes from him.
The young kept standing to attention, unsure as to what to do next. Maladict let him stand there as she idly flicked through the letters. Judging by the postal ink on them, some were quite old. So much for that grand postal service Ankh Morpork kept going on about. She flipped to the last one, her eyes raising to look at the nervous soldier steadily. His arm had begun to shake from the salute he was still managing to hold.
“Dismissed.”
“YES SIR...M’am...Corporal...SIR!!!!.” the solider made another flurry of an arm movement, before marching as close to a run as he could manage.
Kids. The lot of them. All wet behind the ears. Maladict chuckled under her breath, before opening the oldest letter. She instantly regretted it, just as instantly as she recognised the handwriting.
Dearest Maladicta,
I hope this letter finds you well. It has taken us some time to find a place to send this, you left us no address to contact you with.
No, Maladict thought, I hadn’t. That was the point of running away. You ran away. It wasn't like popping off on holiday for a short while.
Please come home, Dear. Your father is beside himself. You need not worry about an argument, we will not start one. You can just come home, and everything can go back to normal. We have kept your room just as you left it, and all your gowns are well looked after
You have proved whatever point you wanted to make, so return to us and we can forget this silly little solder thing.
With love,
Mother
Maladict crumpled the letter in her hand. She didn’t have to read the others, she knew it would be much the same, with increasing determination for everything to be As It Was. The vampire stood, walking over to the fire in the middle of the camp, over which the pot of scubbo was quietly bubbling to disgusting perfection. After the briefest moment of indecision, she dropped the letters into the fire.
From now on, she’d use Jackrum’s old trick of diverting the mail. It was clearly a good idea.
Xposted to justprompts and cheesemongers