The letter to the lost souls

she looked into the night sky, holding her letter in hand. The wind was whispering in her ear, like neglected voices weeping to be heard. She felt the paper start to wither under her touch, wet by the damp air. Slowly, she lifted it, level to her line of sight. Like she was holding out a gift, or showing an audience the ink stained words she’d written. And she dug deep into her pocket. Deeper. Digging. Searching. Dammit, where is it? Ah. There. She pulled out a lighter, her brother’s cigarette lighter, and brought it into view. She ran her nail over the ridges of the small gear. And she pressed. Fire lit her view. She watched it, flickering, struggling to stay strong in the cold. She moved it closer to the paper, closer and closer… She smiled as it burned. It was the only way. The words had to be gone in order for their intended owner to receive it. “A letter to the lost souls,” she whispered. And the smoke curled into the sky, whisking her message away