The Letter Page #5

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I wonder if you wanna hear it.

"Once there was this girl,

and she was very beautiful.

Not unlike you.

And one day

she woke up

and she realized

she had made a dreadful mistake."

That's it.

That's my story.

I wonder if you liked it.

Uh, no no, I, uh--

I didn't like it very much.

Well, I'm sorry

you didn't like my story.

Maybe I'll work on it

a little more.

Goodbye, Martine.

Thank you for the flowers.

They're beautiful.

I love you.

Be careful.

We're pretty sure she was exposed,

though I can't really say how,

to a catalyzed form of a leaf

of a tree found in Colombia.

It's called scopolamine.

The criminals use it

to break down the will

or the rational thoughts

of their victims.

They blow the powder

into their victim's face

like this, and the victim--

it's odorless, it's colorless.

How strange.

And while it's used medicinally

in very minute amounts

for a variety of conditions,

when it's combined with morphine,

it produces a state

called "twilight sleep."

It's also known

as a kind of truth serum.

It crosses the blood-brain barrier

and affects the central nervous system.

It's my guess that Martine's exposure

was at very small levels

but over a prolonged period.

"How" doesn't really matter, I suppose.

Unfortunately, the effect

of long-term exposure was--

well, there are obvious

neurological problems...

I worked more on my story,

the one that you read to me.

Here it is.

"I had begun walking

when it was still dark.

Now at midday,

when I was alone,

I sat under a tree--

a whispering ash.

And I felt a hand on my thigh.

A man was there, lying next to me,

touching my leg inside,

high above my knee under my skirt.

His hand moved higher, slowly.

I couldn't look at him,

but I felt his eyes on me.

And so I slept.

As I slept,

I dreamt that I wrote you this letter

and I put it in the sea."

Have a seat.

"And I heard now for the first time

the silver breath of wind

in the ash tree

whispering above me

as I saw the shadows

of the slender leaves

tremble against the skin on my leg,

high up where the skirt was raised

above the knee.

The shadows of the leaves

felt sweet on my skin

and I watched their soft movements,

touching me.

I felt the shadows across my skin

and I watched.

Love, Martine."

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