Dear Creepypasta [#Wattys2016]

How I met your mother

HOLY SHIT. I just woke up and found this note, folded very very neatly, on top of my alarm clock. You guys are the experts, and I am hoping you can tell me-- is there any way I can find this anything other than terrifying?

...

Hey, Clarissa, happy birthday! I know it's slightly odd that you'll find this on your bedside table in the morning, but I don't know where else to put it. Should I send it in a greeting card? Put it in your locker? Honestly, this seems like as good a way as any of introducing myself to you.

Hello, sweetheart, I'm your father.

I know it's been a lot of years, and I haven't really been in your life. But, even though you haven't known it, you've always been a part of mine. I never wanted to neglect you, It was always quite the opposite. I just never found the right time to, I guess, reveal myself.

Adult relationships can be hard, baby. I guess I'll start at the beginning.

The first time I met your mother, I was 14. This was the 90's, and for some unknown reason at that time a common reward for coming to class all semester was what they called a Skating Party. I hated them, I always did. You may remember I was never terribly coordinated. I always preferred the Pizza Parties to the Skating Parties. At one I got a delicious box of cheese and grease, and at the other I had to occasionally stumble pathetically around the edge of an oval filled with graceful, successful people circling and circling and circling on wheelss. I never really understood the appeal, I just knew I was terrible at it. But I was stuck there, we all were. So I tried.

At my school we had trimesters. Three chances, they told us, to capture the elusive rapture of the Skating Party. If we were attentive enough, if we were clever enough, if we turned all our work in on time... Or, as we all knew, if we didn't slip out and set the skating rink on fire while our parents were asleep. They planned this stuff at the beginning of the year. There was no way they were going to waste the rental fee on the roller rink.

I'm going to ask you, sweetie, not to follow in my footsteps, but I'm going to be honest with you. You're smarter than me, but I wasn't entirely stupid, and I was one of the kids who knew that the Skating Parties were as inevitable as taxes and death, and we tried to make them just a little more fun. Unfortunately my friend Jeff wasn't nearly as smart as either of us, and he decided that the best way to do that was to bring a bottle of his father's whiskey with him so we could share it in the bathroom between circles.

Never, ever steal your father's whiskey. It really isn't a good idea.

Anyway, honey, I was about seven swallows deep. You know what it's like when you're really sick, and your fever and chills give way to a leftward skip in your stomach, and suddenly nothing os okay anymore until you can get to the bathroom? Well, imagine you can't even wa,k because you're on wheels, and the world keeps shifting, and you're sinking down at the furthest possible point from the nearest toilet. And there you are, clutching your stomach, doing your best not to puke on the skates of everyone going by you, because you know they're just rented and it doesn't seem fair. And then, suddenly, there's your mother.

I can only put it so simply because you know her. At the time, I did not. So it wasn't your mother, to me. It looked like an angel. I was breathing hard, yes, and my eyes were out of focus. That kind of thing happens sometimes, honey. Maybe you'll have that problem too someday. But this time, as I sagged down and nearly collapsed onto the slick skate rink floor, a hand slipped down and caught mine, and dragged me back up. And suddenly I was skating along, light as air, in my rented rollerskates, alongside the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen.

I couldn't speak, of course. I was having a hard enough time remaining upright. But she held me up, somehow, despite my stumbling, until we got around the rink to the exit. Then she slowed, and so I did too, and she gestured to the gate.

"I think this is your stop," she said, and smiled.

Those were the only words she ever spoke to me. And they were the only words I ever needed to hear. Those words? Young as I was, I could tell that they meant "I love you".

I don't expect you to understand yet, Clarissa. I hope one day you do. I hope one day you see the beauty I saw then.

I clung to the side of the ramp, and your mother flashed a brief and beautiful smile as she sped up again and moved on. I knew I had fallen, and I didn't even know her name.

I found out.

Stacey Alyssa Montgomery. I know you know it, but even writing it down now sends a glorious shiver from my fingertips through to my shoulder. Imagine, if you can, meeting your mother for the first time. Can you even begin to think how that would feel?

Well, of course not. You're her daughter. You've always known her. But trust me, she was something special.

The next day I made inquiries of anyone who would answer. It turned out that we'd shared the rink that day with a school across town with the same sadomasochistic sense of reward as my own. I had the school's name. I didn't have hers. And this was before the internet, sweetie-- I didn't have too many ways to find out who this beautiful girl who had saved me from myself actually was.

I made it work, though.

*Schools have libraries. And, just in case you ever need to know this, school libraries always have copies of the school's yearbooks. So, if you happen to be in the library over lunch, and if you're young enough that you look like you're in high school, you can find out who absolutely anyone is. *

I'm going to skip the months of courtship. Your mother ended up with me, this much you know. And, Clarissa, baby? You're the most beautiful thing I've ever had a hand in making. You do look so much like her.

The problem is that your mother and I always had a bit of a stormy relationship. She always wanted more from me than I was able to give. I'm sure by now you know about pregnancy cravings. Well, when your mother was pregnant with you, hers were horrible. Pickles and ice cream sounds funny in concept. But hers were so much worse. She cried and vomited the whole time. But then you came, and there was no way that anyone could really think that you, my Clarissa, were not worth absolutely all of it.

Ah, but nothing beautiful lasts forever, and eventually, shortly before you were born, your mother and I had what you might call a disagreement. She burst out of the house and left me, flew in the middle of the night. Still, I've been watching you, Clarissa. I've been watching all of your successes, all of your glories. All of your grade school plays and piano recitals-- I haven't missed one. I wouldn't do that to you, my sweet. Every girl needs a father's love.

I miss you, baby. We've never spoken, your mother left before you were born. But you're 16 years old today, Clarissa, old enough to decide for yourself whether or not you want your daddy in your life.

Do you want me, Clarissa? I want you. I always have.

If you do, just look out the window and smile.

I'll be waiting for your smile, Clarissa. I love you. I've always loved you. I loved you at the first sight of your tiny, red, squalling face. You were so beautiful. Just like your mother.

Happy birthday, baby girl.

I promise I'll see you soon.

Deepest love, always,

Daddy.

...

Thing is, my name is Erica. My mother's name is Eleanor. My father, Sean, is asleep upstairs, with her. I'd wake them up, but it's just about dawn, and I don't think...