Perry - By Jasmin Tran

Written By: Jasmin Tran

Category: Short Story

Competition: Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026

In the realm of storytelling, few tales capture the imagination quite like "Perry," a short story by Jasmin Tran, writing under the name Perry. As a participant in the esteemed Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026, this entry delves into the complexities of family ties, inheritance, and the haunting echoes of the past. Through the eyes of Letha Hew, readers are invited into a world where the lines between reality and the supernatural blur, leaving a lingering sense of intrigue.

About the Work

"Perry" is a masterful exploration of psychological suspense, weaving a narrative filled with mystery and tension. Jasmin Tran crafts a vivid world where the protagonist, Letha Hew, grapples with the unsettling legacy of her grandfather's house and the enigmatic diary she discovers within. The story's atmosphere is rich with gothic elements, as each diary entry unravels deeper layers of familial secrets, culminating in a chilling revelation that questions the very nature of identity and memory.

Perry

Original Submission by Jasmin Tran

Perry

06/06/06

Dear Journal? Diary?

I don’t know how to refer to you yet. My name is Letha. Letha Hew. I found you in this…house. If you can call it that. It’s much too grand to just be called a house. It's a much more upper class place in comparison to the apartment I’m currently renting. Ignoring the dust that is. I inherited this place from my grandfather. He always terrified me growing up. He was fine the first few times, nothing out of the norm. He even treated me well. Then he became…strange. It was like he wasn’t himself the last few times I saw him. He would accuse all of his children of being demonic beings that were trying to lure him to the other side. Whatever that meant. Then the people around him slowly started disappearing from his side. The accusations were just too much. None of us wanted to be associated with him any longer. I wasn’t exactly thrilled to hear the news that I had inherited something from him. You came along with the house. A very shiny new book that had his name on it. ‘Peregrine Hew’. You’re quite pretty honestly. You have a spotless brown leather cover and shiny new pages that don’t have a single drop of ink on them. I don’t know why you were left behind in such a…frankly decrepit house. It’s old, dusty and clearly not well maintained. Plus I had to go pillaging for you in this giant place. Why would grandpa have you hidden in such a hard to find place when you’re part of the will? No matter. Ink looks better on your pages then the clean ones so I think I’ll continue writing in you. You can just be a small treasure trove of my secrets. Maybe I’ll find out more about this house. It’s quite fancy if you ignore the dust. But till another day my friend. There’s much to do in the wake of grandpa’s death.

Your friend,

Letha Hew

________________

13/11/06

Dear Chronicle?,

I don’t think that sits right either. Too fancy. But I’ll settle for it for now until I think of a better name. Grandpa’s house (for a lack of a better term) seems very…cryptic. Apart from the dust, it’s actually quite ornate. Definitely worth more money then grandpa had so I have no idea how he got it in the first place. You also seem like you were worth a pretty penny yourself. He had a whole stash of papers that were lined with gold! Though the will explicitly said not to sell anything. Just treat it as another asset to own and not sell. Something for me to keep in the family I guess. I brought it up with mum once. She said what worth could it possibly be? Could she not see the gold? Though I guess Mum had more money since she sold off my place without telling me and demanded I live in this house so I guess there’s that. It’s not like I can afford the upkeep of this house with the rent of the other place so I’m not complaining too much. Odd that Mum would do that without telling me though. It’s unlike her. She did it for my own gold good so honestly it’s ok in my eyes. I guess. I don’t know why but it feels like I want to keep writing in you. It’s like I can’t handle seeing clean pages in such a…beautiful book. But alas I have to go. There’s much more to be done. Only the first floor is functioning. On to the next floor. Maybe another month or two will make it as good as new.

Your dearest writer,

Letha Hew

________________

10/12/06

Dear Perry,

That sounded more right then the past two names. I think I might stick with that. Did you know that was what grandpa used to be called before he went batshit crazy? In a way it’s like I’m writing to him when I write to you. Odd right? Mum told me a lot of stories when I was younger of how he was the nicest person before something changed him. It made me feel like I knew him. But then he vanished along with grandma. I have no idea why. The house finally looks like a functioning house. There was much more hidden gold than expected and I can see why grandpa didn’t want anyone else to inherit it. I think he liked me when I was an innocent child. It shows I’m better than the rest of my family in his eyes. Though that’s a little…harsh. Grandpa was supposedly crazy afterall. But maybe less than we thought. I don’t know how but you’ve seemed to spruce up yourself in the time that I didn’t spend writing in you. Your cover seems much higher quality than before even though if anything you should seem more used. It’s like you're begging to draw my eyes towards you and keep writing in you. You should know that you don’t need to be pretty for me to write in you. You’re a book, that’s what you’re made for. To keep stories in your pages. But your spine has decorations that have seemingly bloomed from nowhere and words slowly appeared in a language that I don’t know at least. The strangest thing of all is that I can’t find grandpa’s name on you anymore. ‘Peregrine Hew’ is no longer in your pages even though I could’ve sworn you were written in ink. A permanent reminder that you’re not truly mine. But now…

I guess you’re more mine than his.

Your soul sole friend,

Letha Hew

________________

17/12/06

Dear Perry,

Something strange has been happening. I’ve been forgetting things and Mum would constantly be reminding me but it’s like she’s exasperated by my forgetfulness. Christmas is stressing her out. I’m just a human. What can she expect from me? She’s nearly taken over every aspect of grandpa’s house and it’s like she inherited the place. Not me. I hate that feeling. She’s trying to take over this house. My house. Why is she so against my decisions? I need to cut her off but I don’t know how. Do you have any suggestions? I doubt it. You’re still a book after all. We visited dad’s grave the other day and it seemed like even he was taunting me from the other side. He’s been gone for years now though. How is that even possible? But his gravestone kept reminding me that it wasn’t grandpa’s house. It wasn’t shiny or cleaned up or covered in gold. It was old and decrepit and made of stone. It wasn’t beautiful. Not like you. Though your pages still don’t have enough ink in them. Not enough stories fill your pages. With all the house cleaning finally done, I can finally write much more in you. The doctor said I should write more anyway. My memory has been fading more than he would like and he mentioned that the journaling might be helping even if it was just a little. I’ll write more. Don't worry Perry.

Your writer,

Letha Hew

________________

20/12/06

Perry,

Were your pages always lined with gold? Was your cover always spotless and creaseless? It’s like you’ve cleaned up more than the place and it’s making me feel awfully selfish. Mum saw you the other day and it was like she was in a trance. She reached out and her voice was almost lifeless. Her hand reached out to you and she wanted to write in you too. I didn’t let her of course. She forced herself to walk away after I told her no but then the next comment she made when she visited me last was strange. Her voice sounded angry. No, it sounded almost…deranged! She told me to burn you. To throw ‘that old book away.’ Can you believe it? Can’t she see you’re a priceless artifact to keep in our family for generations to come? They’ll all see at Christmas. Once your pages are spent, I’ll finally feel satisfied. Of course, I need to write enough for that. Mum’s just being selfish. She wants the house. She wants you. Well who am I not to defy my own mother’s wishes. She told me off for forgetting something again. It’s been happening more often. Just blocks of my memory just gone. I’m not worried though. If it was something worth remembering then I would remember. Clearly nothing else is more important than writing in you.

Your loyal writer,

Letha Hew

________________

21/12/06

Perry,

I’ve been told to stop writing in you. Burn you even. Mum keeps trying to take you away from me. I can’t let her take you though. I’ve locked myself in my house. No one else can get in. I can hear her shouts from the front door and it's irritating. I don’t care about Christmas! Writing is all I care about. Writing in your pages just makes you that much more valuable in my eyes. It’s like your pages have come to life now that ink has made it on there and it makes me feel alive. I have no care for mundane things now. Food tastes bland and I have no thirst to quench. I can’t seem to get my mind off of writing in you. I think it’s meant to be. You’re the only friend on my side. No one else seems to understand why I have to keep writing in you. No one else knows. They don’t know why I need to. I need to see ink in those pages or it’ll drive me insane. I don’t care if my body fails! They wouldn’t either! I need to keep writing. It’s the only thing that keeps me going these days. What makes me look forward to the next day. The house itself is a safe haven. It keeps me safe from everyone else. Mum says I’ve changed but I should’ve cut her out of my life earlier. Ever since I’ve inherited grandpa’s house she’s just become more selfish. How dare she. Maybe I need to cut her out of my life in a different way.

Your confused friend,

Letha Hew

________________

22/12/06

I’m heading out, Perry. I can’t handle much more of this. I’m leaving you safe at home. I had the thought that blood would look…breathtaking on your pages with the ink.

Wish me luck.

Letha

________________

23/12/06

I did it. Perry, I did it. I did it. My family has no idea. No idea that it was me. No idea that she was gone for the past day, not just the last few hours. My mother has joined my father and it thrills me. I found grandpa’s papers in this house while we were cleaning. They were torn and aged but still legible. I know what he did to grandma. He was truly an inspiration. It was deserved I’m sure. Mum said I had acted like him when I found her cowering. That was a compliment and she knew it. She tried to run. Why wouldn’t she? She is human after all. But that just made me that much more excited. I have no regrets. I needed to see her covered in ink and blood.

I mean, I thought my body was failing me, Perry. I felt drained. But it’s like all my problems are cured. I can remember everything clearly. It’s like I needed the thrill to get my blood pumping again. Should I end everyone who has ever doubted me No. I can’t do that. It’s too soon and I’m so tired. My body isn’t listening to me once again. But my mind is sharper than ever. I can remember every little thing I did and I revel in it. Though that doesn’t mean my body isn’t shaking. From fear or excitement, I don't know. I don’t think I can move the pen without making my handwriting illegible. I’ll write tomorrow. Don’t worry.

Letha Hew

________________

24/12/06

Perry,

What did I do? I can’t remember anything from yesterday.

It’s all…gone.

It’s like a whole day was wiped from my mind.

Why can’t I remember anything?

I only remember writing… in you.

Why does the entry from yesterday look like it’s been faded. It’s only been a day but it’s frankly close to illegible. I can’t remember. Not what I did. Not the person that wrote those words. I got a call today and she’s gone. My Mum is not part of this world anymore. They said the murder weapon was a broken pen.

A fountain pen that Mum had gifted me when I first published.

Nothing else was found. It couldn’t have been me, could it? I’m seeing everyone tomorrow! If anyone finds out then I’d be alone. I can’t handle being alone

But I’m not alone, am I?

I still have you

That’ll be enough right?

I don’t need anyone else Just you

I can just write my days away and I’ll never be alone

It’s perfect

I can’t say much on my mother's murder death

But at least…

She doesn’t screams selfish desires in my face

Now I’m Fre

________________

Leaving me a broken pen Letha? No matter. Don’t worry about anything. Because as you said. You’re free.

Yours,

Letha Perry

25/12/06

Dear Perry Letha,

Thank you for making these pages full of life again. I hope you can live in your new home with no regrets. I’ll be sure to take care of the body you’ve allowed me to consume. It feels exhilarating to be back in the mortal world. There’s much to be done though. The house for one thing isn’t close to its former glory. You weren’t worthy to look after this place. Reality shall make it be that only I existed in this world. No one shall remember Letha Hew. Just like Peregrine Hew. No one apart from me of course. Call me a thief or call me greedy but I guess that's the selfishness in me. I couldn’t resist when the opportunity came along. It was well worth the wait. There’s much to be done, the house needs to be refurbished. Your taste in interior design really should be studied by how…dreadfully awful it is. But at least with the redecorating I can find the perfect place to put you on a bookshelf. Far far away from me at least. Not with your… colourful record. I’ll be sure to pass on your well wishes for the rest of the family. Of course they won’t know someone who never existed.

So dear Letha, I am ever so grateful and thankful for your assistance. I’ll be quick to ensure that her death won’t get mentioned. Til a day that shall never come.

Merry Christmas,

Perry

________________

About the Competition

The Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026, hosted by Hashtag Kalakar, is a prestigious platform celebrating literary excellence across genres. This competition invites writers worldwide to showcase their creativity, offering a unique opportunity to share their voices and stories with a global audience. Through diverse entries, the competition aims to foster a vibrant community of writers and readers, united by a passion for the written word.

We extend our gratitude to Jasmin Tran for sharing the enthralling story "Perry" with us. As part of the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026, this work captivates with its intricate narrative and thought-provoking themes. We look forward to seeing more from Jasmin and wish them continued success in their creative endeavors.

About Hashtag Kalakar

Hashtag Kalakar is a creative platform dedicated to providing artists, writers, singers and other creative talents with opportunities to showcase their work and reach wider audiences through competitions, features and creative initiatives.