Full Body Chills - Every Year on My Birthday, I Receive a Letter

Episode Date: October 30, 2019

Every year on my birthday I get a letter. I never feared death before but these letters have changed everything for me.Every year on my birthday, I receive a letter.by: Richard SaxonYou can read the original story at FullBodyChillsPodcast.comThis episode is brought to you by Simplisafe, to learn more check out simplisafe.com/fbc Looking for more chills? Follow Full Body Chills on Instagram @fullbodychillspod. Full Body Chills is an audiochuck production. Instagram: @audiochuckTwitter: @audiochuckFacebook: /audiochuckllcTikTok: @audiochuck

Hi listeners, this is Ashley Flowers, and I have a story I want to tell you. A story about some of the strangest letters that I've ever received. So gather around and listen close. Today marks the 20th anniversary of my father's death, taken away by a single senseless act. But it also just so happens that today's my birthday. He'd been working late, as he often did, regardless of birthdays or holidays, and I understood it was a painful memory for him. And though our relationship had always been a bit strained, I never blamed him for making a living. Because a single father he had a lot on his mind and I respected that

But that night on my 18th birthday. My father was hit by a drunk driver on his way home He never even made it to the hospital His insides were so utterly torn to pieces by the impact that he simply died before the paramedics could even show up. A few weeks after the funeral, I was trying to piece together the legal mess that comes following someone's death, inheritance, and so on. It certainly wasn't anything a teenager should have had to deal with, but I was alone, like no close family, no one to guide me through the world anymore. Ironically, his lawyer seemed to know more about my father than I did. After dealing with whatever assets were left behind, the lawyer had been given a set of instructions, all prepared by my father should he meet an untimely demise. So I signed all the necessary documents and was given some advice on how to survive the loss of a loved one. Then I received a letter.

It was wrapped in a beautiful silver envelope only decorated with my name. I opened it, careful not to rip it apart, and I started reading. Dear Ashley, I'll start this letter by admitting to one undeniable truth. I'm not a good man, and I've been an even shittier father. I've made plenty of mistakes, left too many things unsaid. I could make up the excuse that I'm simply the product of my time and the people that raised me,

but I'll cut through the bullshit and just apologize. Your mother died while giving birth. It's a hard fact to live with, and though I've seemed cold at times, I need you to know that I never blamed you for any of it. How could I? You came into this world as a beautiful little creature, never asking for life, yet appreciating every moment of it. I'm writing this on your birthday. You've just turned 18, and I'm staying behind at work to finish this up. I don't think I'll hand it to you yet. I'm still not done dealing with my own issues, but I promise that as soon as I'm able to man up, I'll tell you all the things I should have said as you grew up. That I'm proud of you. That I love

you. I wish I could say this to your face, but I'm a coward. Taught myself that emotions are for the weak. So for now, I'll put this on paper. It'll be waiting among my other things and my last will and testament should anything ever happen to me, but that'll hopefully be many years from now. And by then, you won't even need this letter to remind you. You're a better person than me, Ashley. I hope you know that. I'm sorry I haven't been a better father, but I promise I'll change. I love you, dad. My father had died the same day that he wrote that letter. He probably instructed the secretary to send the letter to his lawyer in the morning. I don't really know how else that he would have gotten a hold of it.

I read the letter a couple of more times before folding it neatly back up. Then I just sat down on the floor and cried. I kept it together for so long, but right now I just couldn't anymore. I tried to remember the smiles on our faces and the moments we shared because that's what truly mattered, not the words that could have been said, but the time that we did spend together. And that would have been it. My father had passed and life moved on. I kept our small house for myself. It was already bought and paid for. And I kept on with my studies. Then one year later on my birthday, I received another letter. It was beautiful. The same silver envelope, just like the last one. And on the front were these like pattern of vines and bizarre looking symbols. And in the very center, written crudely, but

not without charm, was my name. And I recognized the handwriting. His handwriting was unmistakable. The letter, without a doubt, came from my father. But I couldn't figure out how. I mean, he had to have sent it over a year ago before his death. And the more I thought about it, I figured he must have instructed his lawyer to send a letter to me every year on my birthday. And this sounded like something he never would have done, but I'd already been surprised last year. So I just opened it and started reading. Dear Ashley, where do I begin? I'm not even sure if this letter will reach you considering where I am, but I'm giving it a shot anyway.

It's been exactly one year since my death, though I have to admit time works a bit differently here. It feels like a hundred years have passed since you turned 18, yet I know that for you only one year has gone by. I'm not much of a poet, but I'm sure not even Edgar Allan Poe could have found the words to describe the beauty of this place. It's simply put, unbelievable. You need to know that I never suffered.

The car hit me at such a speed that it killed me instantly. No pain, nor any memory from the incident. My world just disappeared, and a moment later, I woke up surrounded by the most beautiful light. Where is here? I'm not exactly sure. I suppose it's heaven, though I can't say exactly what I did to deserve such a gift. It's like a city here, stretching endlessly as far as I can possibly see. Just buildings and spires covered in silver that stretch up into the sky, hiding among the clouds above. Perfectly constructed and each magnificent in their own way. There are no horizons here. The world only ends when it's too far away to comprehend. Just tiny figures dancing

in the distance, but it's beautiful nonetheless. Enveloped in colors I never even knew existed. It's perfect. We don't feel hunger, thirst, or tiredness, yet the food is bountiful and always tastes exquisite. I don't need it, but it's a joy just to feast nonetheless. Never feeling too full, never gaining or losing weight. There are some things that I can't tell you. The guards or angels, I'm not really sure what to call them, but they're telling me I have to follow the rules. Upon asking, they simply scoffed and told me to figure it out on my own.

They're certainly not the beautiful creatures that I expected them to be, but that doesn't really matter. What matters is that I'm looking for your mother, but in an endless city that's easier said than done. There's really no, like, registrar here, so no one can actually tell me where to find anyone, though I suppose with an eternity ahead of me, I'll just have to keep looking. The population is strangely scattered here, and no one I spoke to has been here for more than a few years. I suspect that there's some kind of hierarchy in this place, or maybe we have to wander further into the city to find our loved

ones it's a lot to take in and i wish i could tell you more but now i need to go in any case i love you ashley i wish i'd said that while i was still alive but at the very least this is better than nothing. Love, Dad. I wasn't sure how to react. Sure, I mean, it was his handwriting, but it had to be some kind of joke. I called up his old lawyer and asked if he'd sent the letter on behalf of my father, and he denied it, saying that his job ended basically the moment I signed over my father's remaining assets here on earth. Next, I turned to the few friends that I had, basically interrogating them about the letter without revealing its actual content. And they all acted innocent, which made me feel guilty.

They had been great as long as I'd known them, always there for me, and without them, I couldn't have survived the passing of my father. So without any further solutions, I had to just let it go. I put the letter alongside the rest of my father's belongings and forced myself to move on. And I almost forgot about it. I truly did. But then the third letter arrived, yet again, on my birthday, exactly one year later. Dear Ashley, I found her. After an impossibly long

search, I finally found her. Your mother, Helen, the love of my life. I knew she had to be here. She'd always been one of the best people I knew. I guess I should explain. As I said in my last letter, time doesn't flow as you'd expect, at least not here. Despite that, we keep track of it just like we do back on Earth. I suppose it makes it easier to look out for our loved ones. It just feels longer. Your mother, she's not exactly herself. I found her on top of one of the spires. Ashley, I've never seen her look like this. She looks nothing like the woman I knew and loved before, yet I know it's her. I can feel it in my heart.

She's so skinny, emaciated even, and on the brink of starvation. I didn't even realize that could happen. I myself haven't eaten in weeks, yet I feel completely fine. She just keeps repeating the same sentence over and over. I don't understand. I tried to be good. What did I do wrong? I tried to convince her to leave with me, but she doesn't even recognize who I am anymore. And I can't simply force her. Believe me, I tried. Up here, it's impossible to do anything to anyone against their will. I realized that when I tried to write down what I saw on the first day, but found that I couldn't form the words. It's hard to describe, but we have free will here as long as we follow the rules.

Anything else is literally impossible. The angels turned their attention to me after I hung around your mother for more than a few days. They told me to leave her alone. I tried to explain, but they wouldn't listen. I had to leave her, Ashley. I couldn't stand to see her like that, but I'll keep checking up on her, I promise. After I tried the few ideas I could think of, I asked some other people here for help, but most of them are just like me, new and clueless. The few veterans I found only tell me to let it be, that I'll get in trouble if I keep messing around. I've got to go now. They're looking at me.

I love you, Ashley. I hope we don't see each other too soon. Just live a good life. It's far too short. His handwriting seemed rushed towards the end. I must have read through that letter a dozen times, trying my best to figure out what was going on. Since I had no means of tracking this letter, I couldn't do much other than listen to my gut. As strange as it might sound, I believed every word I was reading. I decided that the best thing I could do is respond. I would write to my dad and see what happened. And honestly, I felt kind of stupid as I put the letter down in my doorstep, expecting it

to like magically vanish during the night. But even the smallest chance at contacting him in the afterlife was one worth taking. Of course, when I opened the door the following day, it was still there, mushy with smudged ink from the small storm that passed through over the night. Defeated, I could do nothing but wait for another year to pass.

As my birthday rolled around again, I hatched a plan to catch whoever was delivering the letters. I camped outside in my garden, waiting for the culprit. Hours passed. I waited from the early hours, but as midday arrived, I decided I finally had to call it quits and head back inside. And there it lay, on the other side of my front door, on top of my slippers. A perfect silver envelope with my name on it. Dear Ashley,

I found someone willing to answer my questions. They claim they've kept an eye on me for some time, but that I wasn't ready to see them, they kept waiting hoping I'd one day come around. I'm not exactly sure what they meant by ready but they say that until I see what this place truly is I won't understand. Unlike my other companions these people weren't smiling. They didn't seem healthy but appeared as sickly twisted human beings that have long since forgotten who they once were. They gave me a heads up, though, that time only passes as fast as we need it to. That year can feel like a century, or it can pass by in a week, whatever that means. They mentioned something they simply refer to as the dome.

They say it's in the center of the city, an almost impossible distance away. They offer to take me there once I'm ready, but I can't. I need to stay. I have to take care of your mother. Of course, the Silver City still stands tall and magnificent, but the food has lost its taste. Drink just feels unnecessary. I've indulged on occasion, tried to recreate the feelings I had when I first arrived here, but to no avail. My only purpose now is to find a way of reconnecting with your mother. I know I can get through to her, I just need to find a way. While I search for answers, I still visit her from time to time just to sit by her side as she stares off into the distance. Maybe I'll one day get a glimpse of what occupies her mind,

and hopefully she knows that she's not alone. I know she's utterly broken, but as long as I'm able to, I'll protect her. I promise you that. Happy birthday, Ashley. I'm happy I have the opportunity to stay in touch, even if it's impossible for you to respond. I love you, Dad.

That's how my life went on from then. Each year on my birthday, my father sent me a silver letter, just updates from the afterlife. And as bizarre as it felt, I felt happy to have a connection with my dad, though it had been partially tainted by the image of my sickly mother standing atop of a spire. On the 15th anniversary of my father's death, my life had taken a drastic turn for the better. I'd just gotten engaged to the love of my life after five years, and this all came atop of a promotion at work. All in all, life seemed to be going my way, and my birthday was just around the corner, and as always, I eagerly awaited that silver letter. And there it was, laying on my doorstep. Except rather than a perfectly smooth envelope with those vines and symbols that I'd gotten so used to, I found a crumpled piece of paper, one covered in erratic handwriting, incomprehensible phrases and drawings.

Ashley, she's gone. Your mother, Helen. I went back to the spire. I had an idea, but she'd simply vanished, leaving nothing behind. No trace that she ever even existed. I knew something was wrong even before getting there. The buildings have always seemed impossibly tall, but that time I just couldn't get up the stairs. They kept going for days, weeks of climbing, and once I finally reached the top, I was alone. I've searched the entire section of the city, climbed each building to the top, asked whatever person was willing to talk to me. I don't know what to do. I haven't eaten anything since we last spoke a year ago, nor have I had a drink. I don't sleep. I don't know what to do. I haven't eaten anything since we last spoke a year ago, nor have I had a drink. I don't sleep. I don't do anything other than search for her.

I wanted to send you a letter earlier. I needed to tell you what happened, but I had to wait because of those rules, those damned rules. A few weeks ago, I approached one of the guards. I don't know why I hadn't thought of it before, but if heaven was real, then God had to be somewhere up here. I asked the guard about it, and he laughed at me. He touched me on the shoulder and whispered a few incomprehensible words into my ear. It was like a veil had been lifted off me. I could truly see this place for what it is. A concrete jungle with a sky so dark, I don't know how I didn't notice it before.

The buildings around me, once what I considered works of art, so perfect, a creation that simply couldn't be built by man. I finally see them for what they are. Old, run-down concrete prisons on the brink of collapse. They should have fallen long, long ago, yet there they stand, defying all logic, a pitiful sight to behold. The people I came here with have long since gone. All of them are heading towards the dome. In their place, I'm finding more and more people who've been here for an eternity.

Hundreds, thousands of years, and they all seem the same. They're all diseased. Whatever features they once had, whoever they once were, doesn't matter anymore. They've simply existed for far too long. An eternity of time to wash away what once made them human. I think it's time for me to wander through the Silver City. Maybe I just need to reach the dome. Maybe I can find your mother there and maybe I can finally get some answers. Whatever the cost, I can't go on like this. I'm not sure how long it will be until I send another letter. The road toward the dome is different, but this is just something I have to do. I hope you understand, Dad."

Five years passed without another silver letter. The first year I was worried, the second I felt scared, but as the third and fourth rolled around, I honestly felt relieved. It was as if a heavy burden had been lifted off my shoulders. I'd never been much of a religious person before my father died, yet I never feared death. But now, knowing what awaited me on the other side wasn't the perfect heaven we'd all been taught about, I felt horrified. As guilty as it still makes me feel, I never wanted to receive another letter from my father. And honestly, I didn't think I would. But there's still this habit ingrained in me. And today's my birthday, the 20th anniversary

of my father's death. So I go out, check my front doorstep, and there on the ground lay a silver envelope. I slowly picked it up in uncomfortable anticipation. My heart was racing and my hands were shaking. When I looked at it, there were these crudely drawn pictures that covered the front, symbols I couldn't decipher and drawings of a dome-like structure surrounded by bizarre shapes that I assumed to be twisted spires. On the inside, I found another letter, but it was filled with meaningless phrases, jumbled words, and sentences I couldn't understand. It was a mess of erratic handwriting that were nonsensical and horrifying. From the several pages filled to the brim with text of varying sizes all I could make out was the following. They gave us everything we wanted all the imaginable

pleasures of the world and more, only to take it away piece by piece until there was nothing left but the memory of better times. A cruel joke played on us by whatever creature rules this place. I thought this was heaven, but it's not. I'm in hell. We're all in hell. But it's not a punishment. It never was. It's just all there is. Death is the beginning of a nightmare that never ends,

and there's no way out, no alternative. I'm going to enter the dome now. I don't know what I'll find on the other side, but I feel this will be the last letter I ever send you. Enjoy what you have left of life, Ashley. Because once it's over, you'll be right here by my side. This episode was written by Richard Saxon. It was produced and performed by me,

and David Flowers was the assistant producer for this series. Our theme was created by Justin Daniel. This story was modified slightly for audio retelling with the author's consent, so if you want to read the original version, you can go to fullbodychillspodcast.com. And be sure to come back tomorrow so I can tell you another story that will give you full body chills. Full Body Chills is an AudioChuck production. So what do you think, Chuck? Do you approve?