DEAR MR. EDiTOR -- one of the story in a True Phil. Ghost Stories (TPGS) 18

i've been readin' for a week. and it was just that i've found myself too serious readin' a kind of book that wasn't supposed to be my habit. haha! funny. well, i just wanna share this story. a story that affects my whole being. haha. (nman) waaha! seatbelt na ! harhar.

the story goes on like this ...

-- Martin is an editor of a bi-monthly lifestyle magazine for men. The stress of meeting deadlines took a toll on his appearance as he looks older than his age. te company's decision not to hire regular writers and to just look for contributors who would be paid per article added to his load. The company placed an ad for freelance writers in a national daily and in just a matter of a week, his email inbox had been flooded with inquiries. Part of his job was to screen those interested and shortlist them.
Martin was always the last person in the office, leaving at around 9 pm. Before going home one Friday night, he checked his email one last time and saw that there were a few messages needing his attention. Since he would spend his Friday night at home anyway, he decided to read his emails. One email caught his attention. It was an inquiry from a freelance writer named Danny. He was asking if Martin was still in need of writers and asked if he could send some sample articles. The editor replied and told Danny to send some of his works.
The next night, at around 9 pm, Martin was already cleaning up his desk when he suddenly had the urge to check his email one last time. Having forgotten about Danny, he was surprised to see an email from him again. This time, the email came wih an attachment containing his sample works. "Great!" Martin muttured to himself. Now, he has no choice but to go through Danny's sample works before he leaves for home. To his amazement, the articles were well. written. The materials were what he was looking for. After going through te samples, he wrote Danny an email saying that his works were good and they would see print in the magazine's next issue.
A month passed, Martin and Danny regularly communicated through email. Danny continued supplying Martin with good materials. Martin was very happy that he had found the perfect freelance writer of the batch. One day, he requested for Danny's contact numbers. Martin needed to talk to his writer. It took Danny over a week to finally give him his contact number and home address. Martin replied to danny's email asking him if he wanted to pick up his pay check. He also said that they could just send it to the address Danny provided. No reply came from Danny.
Three issues of the magazine came out containing Danny's articles. Queries from readers started to pile up on Martin's desk.. All were asking who the new writer was and that his articles affected most of them in a good way. His articles are very insightful, the letters said. The big bosses of the company started to get interested on the new writer. They wantedd to meet him in person. Martin, on the other hand, was puzzled. After providing him with his contact details, Martin had never heard from Danny again. Something must have happened, Martin thought.
The next day, he went to the address Danny gave him. This was after he tried reaching him through the phone number Danny gave him. The phone line has been disconnected. He decided to get off work early to go to Tauguig where the address was. He managed to find the house before it got tottaly dark. It was a modest two-story apartment located in a middle class neighborhood. He knocked on the door several times before a tall man in his fifties opened the door.
"Good evening, sir. I'm looking for Danny," Martin said.
"Are you a friend of his?" asked the man, puzzled.
"No, sir. Actually we haven't met. I'm Martin, the editor of (name of magazine). I'm looking for him to offer him a permanent post in our company," Martin explained.
"I'm his father and you're too late." He has an angry tone in his voice.
"Sorry, sir, but I just don't get it." Martin was uncomfortable.
"You asked for my son now when you didn't even bother to appreciate his works two years ago before Danny decided to take his own life! How dare you come to me now when you were tha cause of his death!" tha father of Danny was shouting now.
"Two years ago? But there must be some mistake! He has been sending us sample of his works for a month now. Is this some kind of a joke?" Martin was nervous.
Danny's father let him in; calmer now. He led Martin inside and told him to follow him. Danny's father opened a door that turned out to be Danny's room. Danny's father opened an old and dusty box he got from under the bed and showed the contents to Martin. Though he wasn't sure at first what it was, he suddenly realized that he was holding an old manuscript.
"It's been two years," the man told him. One morning, he found his son dangling from the ceiling, a rope tied qround his neck. Danny was heartbroken, he died a frustrated writer, his dather said. He sent his sample works to various magazines in the country but not even a single publication took notice of him dismissing his work as mediocre. What Marttin was holding was Danny's last works, a copy of which was sent to Martin's magazine two years ago. Martin's hand shook as he realized that they were the same materials that were printes in their magazine.

(SORRY FER THiS .. BUT ii NEED TO ENDED iT .. wooh! WAS JUST THAT 'EM RUNNiN' OUT OF TiME. I WAS JUST DOiN' THiS HiR iN A SO WHAT CALLED "CAFE" waa. BUT i'LL CONTiNUE THiS STORY TOMORROW. ENJOY READiNG!
THANKS FER THE TiME YU SPENT READiN' .. XD labyuu.