Letters Out of Time

Love survives the silence of History.

Chapter 1

A House and a Past

It was January 12, 2025.
Anna Veiga was eager to close the deal.

She was buying a house on São Damião Street, number 149, in the Borboleta neighborhood, in Juiz de Fora.
An old house, but remarkably well preserved.
Its moss-green walls and gray gate carried an imposing presence, worthy of residences from past decades.

There was just one last document to sign before the keys would finally be hers.

Once it was done, Anna left the real estate office, downtown in Juiz de Fora, deeply satisfied.

She got into her car — a yellow 1970 Dodge Dart.
It had been parked on Santa Rita Street, the same street as the agency, for about two hours.
She paid, left the parking lot, and the low growl of the yellow Dodge commanded respect.
It was as if the other vehicles instinctively made way, recognizing the weight and value of that entity on wheels.

Anna felt whole.
Almost unreal.

She drove gently toward Borboleta, which awaited her in silence.

Already at her new home:

Anna was excited and fulfilled, yet anxious.
She was waiting for the furniture to arrive.

The rest of the day unfolded like this: furniture and accessories coming in,
a constant coming and going, intense movement inside Anna’s house…

Until the sun decided to retreat. Shyly, it slipped out of sight,
letting nightfall embrace the city, plunging Juiz de Fora into darkness
and forcing it to respond with artificial lights.

The last person to leave the house that day did so at 6:49 p.m.

Anna took a deep breath. Now it would be just her.
She would clean and set the atmosphere of the house in those few hours before going to bed.
The next day, she had to work.

Anna worked at a German car company in the city. Not for long yet.
She felt happy there and took great care of her routines.

She organized what she could and, even so, managed to give the place a “new home” feeling,
which led her to take a shower and go to bed, satisfied.

The next morning:

Anna got up, prepared her coffee, scrambled eggs, and left for work.
That day, she would leave earlier, hoping to finish adjusting the house.

Her morning flowed gently, without major concerns.
Anna left the company around noon.

On her way back home, she stopped at Jardim Norte Shopping Mall,
where she bought a few items to complete the atmosphere of her new place.

After that, she had lunch there and headed home.

When she arrived, she noticed that in the spot where mail was usually delivered — bills, utility notices, advertisements — something was already waiting for her.
That immediately caught her attention.

Anna picked it up and quickly recognized it as a letter.
She greeted her new neighbor, Andressa, with a wave and went inside.
She placed the letter on the living room table and got back to work.
Her intention was to have the house fully arranged by the end of the day.

She adjusted things here and there, positioned objects, structured the living room,
touched up the two bedrooms, and finished in the kitchen.

Only then did she realize how time had flown by.
It was already 6:56 p.m.

She took a shower, ate something light, washed the dishes…

And then she noticed the letter, still there on the table, as if it were calling her.
There was something about it that stirred an uneasiness within her.

Anna picked it up. There was no return address.
She found that strange, but decided to open it.

---

Letter
No sender
Location: Łódź, Poland
Date: February 4, 1941

“Things are not yet so bad here in Łódź.
I promised I would write every week.
I hope the letters are reaching you.
I love you.”

---

A chill ran up Anna’s spine.
She removed her glasses. Rubbed her eyes.
She didn’t want to believe what she had just read.

Could she really be receiving… letters from Poland during World War II?

It didn’t seem possible.

Was someone playing some kind of joke on her?
But there was nothing amusing about it.
Anna felt the longing in those lines. The anguish of the one who wrote them.
It felt far too real.

She placed the letter in a drawer of a piece of furniture in the bedroom.
She thought about calling her father… telling him…
She gave up.

She went to bed with her mind boiling over:

How could this be possible?
Who could have done this?
The material, the paper, the ink… everything truly seemed to belong to that time.

Anna felt unsettled.

She got up, went to the kitchen, and prepared some tea.
She was genuinely struggling to detach herself from what she had seen.
From what she had read.

Anna was persistent. She made an effort and eventually fell asleep.
Sleep embraced her like a mother rocking her beloved daughter.

The next morning:

She woke up feeling fine, but before even getting out of bed, Anna thought about the letter out of time.

What did it truly mean?
What was the story of that house?

A series of questions spun through Anna’s mind.
She had breakfast and left for work.

At work, she encountered situations that irritated her.
That morning passed with rough edges.
Anna left for lunch feeling rather stressed.

She returned from lunch hoping the afternoon would unfold more calmly.
Fortunately, it did.

Anna’s workday came to an end. She said goodbye to her colleagues…
And headed home.

Her thoughts drifted back to the letter she had received.

What should I do with that letter?
Should I tell someone about it?
I don’t think I can tell this to anyone…

The drive home was gentle, despite the delicate traffic of a city that could no longer hold its breath.

Anna arrived home and avoided looking at the mailbox.
Inside, the house was organized, and that pleased her.

She took a shower, trying to relax…
Ate lightly, without excess, something simple.
She cleaned the kitchen and soon began to feel curious… called.

Anna really wanted to go check the mailbox.
But what if there was another letter there?
She wouldn’t even know what to do.

It was already past 7:00 p.m. when Anna decided she would go.
As soon as she arrived, she saw that yes — there was a new letter.

Anna took it in her hands and, even before entering the house, read the message:

---

Letter
No sender
Location: Łódź, Poland
Date: July 4, 1943

“Here, despair begins to leak through.
The tone changes. Something has happened.
I don’t know if you are receiving this.
People are disappearing.
The city seems to breathe fear.
If you can, write back…
Don’t forget that I love you.”

---

Anna felt the weight of the message.
Her heart seemed to be squeezed by an invisible vise.

She took a deep breath; the situation felt suffocating.
Anna thought about talking to Andressa…
Perhaps Andressa might know something about the house — something that could shed light on all this.

Still deeply unsettled and sensitive, Anna slipped the letter into the back pocket of her jeans, opened the gate, and lingered there, hoping Andressa might appear.
She stayed for a while, watching the passersby, hopeful.

---

Chapter 2

The Door Inside the Basement

Anna lost herself staring into time…
Until a voice reached her ears, like a light pushing back the darkness.

— Hello, Anna. What are you doing out here, girl? Standing there, staring at time… what’s wrong?

Anna smiled. It was Andressa.
Gratitude was the first thing that came to her mind, even before she turned and said:

— Dear Andressa, I’m so glad to see you. I really need to ask you something.
— Of course, Anna. I’m here.
— This house I just bought… does it have any history? — she said with a gentle smile.

— Anna… yes… — Andressa searched her memory.
A woman from Łódź, wanted by the Gestapo.
They said she was like a restless soul to them.
She was an excellent writer…
She managed to board using false documents. She was brought by a ship that quietly received refugees under the silence of the consulate.
She obtained new documentation with the help of a diplomat who also vanished from the records.

— My God! — Anna exclaimed.
— Yes… I remember more…
A foreign name. Miriam Rose… Rosenthal… I think…
Yes. Miriam Rosenthal was her original name.
Here, she went by Maria Luiza Dias. Born in 1912, if I’m not mistaken.
She moved here in 1944. Became reclusive, they say.
She never had children. Never left the house…
She died in silence.
She helped Jews escape Europe during World War II.
She exchanged letters with someone mysterious.

— Wow… Andressa, this house has a basement I haven’t even looked at yet.
For all I know, there might be things down there…
— Most certainly! If you want help, tell me and I’ll go with you, woman.
— I will want that. How about Saturday?
— Deal.
— I’m going inside now, I’m starving, my friend.
— Yes, go on. I’m glad I could help.
— Thank you so much… I really needed this.
— Good night!
— Good night…

Anna, both disturbed and strangely relieved, turned and went inside.
She had much to think about, to write down… she wanted to keep track of events.
Even though she knew that the letters she was receiving…
would not cease to be dark.

Anna entered, placed the second letter in the same drawer where she had hidden the first.
She grabbed her laptop and sat on the couch.
There, she wrote down everything she had heard from Andressa.

She opened her email — her Google account.
While scanning her inbox, one sender caught her attention: Hans Fischer.
The message was in German. Her anxiety grew.

Why am I receiving emails from a German? What does this mean, my God?

With trembling hands, Anna selected the text and pasted it into Google Translate.

Berlin — January 16, 2025

“Do you have a library in your house?
You need to respond to us.
This is an archive of the German government.
Reply as soon as you can.”

Anna’s chest tightened.
She struggled to breathe.

She decided to open the door that led to the basement.
Stubborn as she was, she faced the unknown.

Standing before the door, she made the sign of the cross and pushed.
A dry, prolonged creak scraped against her spirit.

Down below: a concrete staircase, darkness, and dampness.
Anna searched for the light switch. She found it.
The light came on — weak, but enough.

She descended slowly.
Her soul, nearly detaching from her body, seemed to resist the descent.

When she reached the bottom, her eyes widened.
Books scattered across the floor. An old filing cabinet.
And farther back… another door.

What was that other door?

She felt compelled.
She walked slowly.
When she got close, she pushed it open.

What she saw left her stunned.
Another descent. Even darker.

But Anna… did not go down.

She closed the door. Turned back.
Left the basement without taking anything from it.
But she carried the weight with her.

What kind of house is this?
What is happening to my life?
Should I leave this place?

In the kitchen, she prepared some tea.
Went to bed. Tried to sleep.

She managed to fall asleep.
Sleep embraced her.

And night is carried away by morning.
Carefully. Gently. Until it fully takes control.

The next morning:

With her mind crowded, Anna gets up, prepares coffee, and goes straight to work.
Inside her Dodge, everything feels smoother. Yet she senses it: something within her is being pulled toward 1942.

At work, she tries to forget everything.
She avoids contact with Germans — not out of prejudice, but emotional discomfort.
Fortunately, she manages to get through the day in peace… without major issues. At least there.

On her way home, she considers calling Andressa to come with her to the basement.
What was that door?
Where did it lead?

She remembers that Andressa arrives late.
She would have to wait until Saturday, when both of them would be off work.
Her friend could accompany her then.

Already at home:

Anna arrives, takes a shower, changes clothes, and decides to call her father.

— Dad!
— My daughter, how are you? I miss you so much!
— I’m well, Dad. And you? I miss you too!
— Your father has grown used to solitude, you know that… but I feel great.
— That makes me so happy to hear, Dad. I need to organize myself to come visit you!
— It will be an immense pleasure!
— Are you really doing well?
— Yes, my angel. And you?
— I’m well too, Dad. God bless you. I love you.
— God bless you, my daughter. I love you too.

She hangs up.
Considers eating out.
Changes clothes.
Takes the Dodge.
Crosses the city of Juiz de Fora until she reaches the drive-in on Rio Branco Avenue.
She parks the Dodge, places her order, and waits.

Anna is served, picks up the food, and heads back home…

---

Chapter 3

My Love Forgot Me

At home, Anna steps inside and immediately feels the air colder than usual.
Outside, the street was warm — typical early-year heat in Juiz de Fora.

Why is it so cold inside this house?

Anna changes clothes, putting on something warmer.
She prepares a hot tea, takes her laptop, and goes to bed.
She opens the laptop…

On the screen, a message:

“My love forgot me — I need help.”
Miriam Rosenthal

Anna startles, quickly closes the laptop, places it beside the nightstand, and pulls the comforter over herself.
She feels afraid.

A strange pressure begins to bother her neck.

What is happening?
This cold house… this message from a spirit on my computer…
I think I’m going insane. My God, help me.

Anna, a woman of faith, prays fervently until sleep takes her.
And sleep, with care, carries her into dawn.

The next morning:

Anna wakes up agitated. She needed to understand what was happening and, if possible, resolve it.
She gets up, goes to the bathroom, prepares her breakfast, and checks the mailbox.

There is a new letter. This one dated 1945.

---

Letter
No sender
Location: Łódź, Poland
Date: January 4, 1945

“This place has turned into hell, my love!
Perhaps this letter will never arrive.
Perhaps it was the last thing I managed to write before… you know, or can imagine.
If someone finds this one day, let them know:
I existed, I loved, I never stopped loving, and I dreamed of freedom.”

---

Anna no longer feels as shaken.
She goes back inside and decides to wait for Andressa to arrive.
She sits at the table.

She notices the digital clock on the kitchen cabinet: it read 3:00.
That made no sense.

Anna stands up — suddenly, the clock falls to the floor.
The situation deeply unsettles her soul.

She leaves the house.
She decides she won’t say anything to Andressa, but still wants to go all the way.

Andressa calls out to her:

— Come, my friend, I’m out here…
— Anna, how good to see you! Excited?
— Yes, very much.
— Wow, Anna… what a cold house.
— Yes, I’ve noticed that, my friend.
— It’s really cold.
— I’ll grab you a sweater.

Anna goes to the bedroom with Andressa and gets her a sweater.
Andressa puts it on.

Anna opens a drawer, takes the letters, and slips them into her pocket.
She thinks she might need them.

Both head toward the basement stairs.

— Everything okay? Are you ready? — Anna asks.
— Yes… a little apprehensive, but yes.

Anna opens the basement door.
The cold intensifies.
The darkness seemed to be watching them.

They descend slowly…
The basement, like an entity of its own, seemed to be waiting.
Something unsettling made the place dense, present… almost tangible.

Andressa points at a door.
Anna nods.
They walk toward it.

A sound begins to echo.

— Do you hear that? Richard Wagner — “Tristan und Isolde”? — Andressa asks.
— I think so… I hear something very distant.
— That’s from the World War II era. Why would we be hearing this here, Anna? I’m really scared!
— So am I. That’s why you’re here with me, Andressa!
— For fuck’s sake, woman…
— I know… but I need to understand what’s happening to me and to this house.
— Here? Now?
— Yes. Let’s go in…

Anna pushes the door.
The symphony now sounds clearer.

Andressa points:

— Look, Anna… the silhouette of a woman!
— Yes… it’s a woman.

She has her back turned, gathering flowers.
Suddenly, she stops.
Drops the flowers.
Turns slowly… and in an instant, stands before Anna.

She tilts her head, staring at Anna, who holds her breath.
Andressa cries in fear.

— I am Miriam Rosenthal. My love forgot me.

She tilts her head the other way, eyes fixed on Anna.

— I don’t think your love forgot you…

Anna doesn’t know how she managed to say it — but she did.

Miriam becomes less disturbing, though still profound.

— What are you saying? What do you know about my love?
— I receive letters. — Anna reaches into her pocket and pulls them out. — Look. They arrive in my mailbox, coming from Łódź. Dated:

1941:

“Things are not yet so bad here in Łódź.
I promised to write every week.
I hope the letters are reaching you.
I love you.”

Miriam’s eyes fill with tears.

— My Sophia… I feel…
— There’s more. Look…

1943:

“Here, despair begins to leak through.
The tone changes. Something has happened.
I don’t know if you are receiving this.
People are disappearing.
The city seems to breathe fear.
If you can, write back…
Don’t forget that I love you.”

— See how she always insists on telling you that she loves you?
Have you been here for many years?
— Yes, young woman. I lived much of my life here, in this house…
I fled the suffering imposed on us in Europe.
I saved many lives. I brought people to Brazil.
My Sophia… I couldn’t…

— It’s all right. She always loved you.
There is one more letter. Are you ready?
— Yes…

The spirit shrugs, as if already aware of the weight that was coming.

1945:

“This place has turned into hell, my love!
Perhaps the letter will never arrive.
Perhaps it was the last thing I managed to write before… you know, or can imagine.
If someone finds this one day, let them know:
I existed, I loved, I never stopped loving, and I dreamed of freedom.”

Miriam’s spirit floats before Anna.
An intense light floods the basement.
No one could say where it came from.

Miriam now appears gentle.
Welcoming.

— Thank you, young woman.
You pulled me out of the depths of absence, of forgetting.
You showed me that my love never forgot me.
Now I can leave… in peace.

— Go in peace, Miriam. Be reunited with Sophia.
She is happy now, waiting for you.

Miriam smiles.
She levitates slowly until she merges with the light…
Which gradually fades.

Until it disappears.

Leaving flower petals scattered across the basement floor.

Anna turns to Andressa.
They look at each other.
Nothing else needs to be said.

Now they walk together.
They embrace and remain there.
Among the petals.
In the present.

Because the past…
has finally found its way.

THE END 🌸