Fax
A Haibun
It was a Tuesday evening when the fax machine started printing papers in a frenzied fashion. Various photographs and poems came through on the silky muted grey paper. Outside the window, the frost had begun to settle into the window cracks. The coffee beans were roasting by the open fire, next to the leather couch that had seen better days.
If I hadn’t known, I would have thought that a rumour was being spread about me due to the plethora of documents I’m receiving. Only, I know the real reason why this is happening to me. They have returned from their purgatory, the ones who fell from grace long ago. Repressed by their desire to write, their desire to talk. If they are stronger than ever before, that means that they should be knocking on my door very soon.
Before they came to Realise what they’d been through I knew they wrote too.