Dear Nikki, I really like my new job at the volcano. My coworkers seemed cold at first, but they warmed up after that busload of kids went into the cauldron. It was like something from a cartoon: a sign pointed straight off the rim instead of to the parking lot. Every year, it seems, there’s a bonkers accident and people fall in. Awful, right? Still, I can’t shake the feeling that locals are relieved it happened. Like they were edgy before and now they’re more relaxed. Anyway, hope you can visit next year. Bring the kids! We’re planning an amazing, up-close tour. Love, Tobey
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Dear Council,
I’m writing about the recently installed Leprechaun Crossing. Yes, it has reduced the number of wee corpses local residents have to scrape off the tarmac, but it comes at a cost. The water’s gone green in the houses within 500 meters of the crossing. Food goes moldy in the refrigerators. Garden gnomes are found in compromising positions. And there’s been a sharp uptick in green turds. From time to time a golden coin is found, perhaps left in recompense for this mischief. But when we take those coins to the pub they turn to dust.
Please consider moving the Leprechaun Crossing to a less populated area.
Sincerely,
Mrs. MurphyDear Bernadette,
This has gone too far. I humored you saying you were a wizard and your school letter was coming. I took you to the theme park and paid for a plastic wand you pretended was made of unicorn hair and gnome toenails (or whatever), but I thought you understood you weren’t taking any magic train to school—just the same orange bus. You waved your plastic wand at me and said some fake-Latin gibberish, and I was rolling my eyes when my whole head rolled backward and I saw my own feathery(!) butt.
You turned me into an owl? Not cool. Put me back.
Yours,
Dad
p.s. You are SO not going to magic school.To Whom It May Concern:
I wonder if you’ve found a person I lost. It’s been a while. A few decades, perhaps. In my defense, I thought the person would find her own way home. I didn’t account for the short in the compass in her left breast. How could I have predicted she’d attempt to feed a lost baby person? That wasn’t in her programming.
Please respond quickly, and I don’t want to hear you only keep found persons for 90 days or somesuch, nor do I care to quibble about the personhood of robots. I do not expect to be judged about the length of time elapsed. Not all experiments succeed and let’s just say that time travel devices short out easier than boob compasses.
Best,
Mr. William MeierDear Eldritch Horror of the Deep,
They used to say the earth had seven seas, all of them our domain. But they are all connected so why haven’t I found you in my millennium of searching? Alas, I must resort to the old way, using part of my precious one day on land to dry my hands, write these words to you, and stuff them into a bottle to toss into the waves. When waves return. It is peaceful now, the sky awash in blood. What a day! I only wish they were yours, these thousand pulsating eggs I’ve lain upon this unsuspecting shore.
With ineffable madness,
Your Eternal Monster Queen
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Dear kids,
It’s so cliché to go out for groceries and…
So I’m walking to the store and I kick a Pepsi can, and it goes “Hey!” I pick it up and this genie puffs out and says “Thanks, bro. You get one wish.” One? Cheap-ass genie. But okay. So I wish for riches, jewels & stuff. The genie fucks off, and I trash the Pepsi can and go shopping. I pick up some cereal; it turns to jewels. Ice cream; jewels. Oh, shit, I think. I heard about this Midas shit before. I go back to the trash & look inside all the empties until people point and stare. No luck, except all the freaking trash turns to priceless bejeweled artifacts. So…
Hug your ma and stay human. I’ll miss you!
Love,
DaddyDear Tina,
You’ll be the most popular woman in Dublin, they said. Never really wanted that, but they also said my wee ones’d never want again. So I let them dress me in up in giant fluffy sleeves that are forever in the way yet fail to cover the twins? Really?
Statuification starts at the feet, so when the bloody sleeve falls down again my hands have already brassified. I can only glare, and of course then my face sticks like “Really?” And the worst part: while my own children and theirs knew who I was, these newer ones don’t—so their grubby fingers polish the very tits that fed their ancestors. Really?
With eternal irritation,
MollyDear Jody,
My mild-mannered alter-ego was on vacation when a giant started attacking London. Stomping through the Thames, kicking bridges, climbing Big Ben like King Kong. Really boring stuff, honestly. Still, a job’s a job.
I couldn’t believe my luck, finding a whole row of phone booths in this age of mobile phones. But while I was changing into my superhero costume, the giant decided to play dominos, and I found myself in a tipped-over phone booth with the door stuck shut! No problem, right? I should be able to burst out of here easy using my super strength.
Well, it didn’t work, okay? Send help.
A not-so-super hero
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Dear Janka,
Multi-headed dinosaurs, titanic snails, plodding yet hungry cave bears, and giant humanoids used to maraud into our village, stomping homes and eating whoever they came across. No one knew where they were coming from, until one day a group of us stumbled upon a rock face and saw the monsters in the rocks going about their slow lives. As we watched, a hungry head on a long neck emerged from the wall and swallowed up George in one crunchy bite.
Now we send animals out toward the rock face to graze. Some return, and some do not, but the attacks have stopped. It’s a good trade.
Visit soon! It’s safe now!
PaulaDear one,
I’ve returned home, to Narnia, to our little burrow, at your request. I hope you’re enjoying the rest of the vacation we saved and scrimped for all our lives. It does not bother me that you sent me home so early. After all, you did tell me to check one last time that I hadn’t left the gas on. “I’ll worry the whole trip,” you said, and I laughed at your silliness and hurried you into the cab to the airport.
What bothers me is that you were right to worry. Stay in Austria. Of our burrow, only ashes remain.
Love,
Your loving husbandDear Klaus,
I’m writing in regards to our community’s alphorn blower: please send a new one. I’m aware this is the 7th such request we’ve made in two years, but it’s not our fault that two of the fellows you sent were drunks, another took a nasty tumble getting up to his station, one fell ill, one rushed off to care for an ailing relative, and the last simply abandoned his post. There is no truth to the rumor that we have a yeti problem around here. But send a replacement post-haste, because only music can calm the
Viele Grüße,
EmilDear Vicki,
Hiking in the Alps, I come across a fox, a pheasant, and a deer smoking from a glass pipe. Naturally, I joined them. The smoke was strong, and soon the clearing spun. I woke some time later with an itch in my wings, flapped them, and with horror realized they would no longer bear my weight. For I had clear memories of flight. And of digging deep into burrows my antlers would now prevent me from entering. And what would the owners of the hostel think of me? I wondered. It wouldn’t do to dwell on it. Fortunately, though my woodland companions were nowhere in sight, the pipe remained.
Peace!
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Dear Nancy,
Nothing lives in the Dead Sea, right? No fish, no plants, not even any microbes, or so they say. So when the … masses … started to rise, we were assured that it was only salt, that it had been there all along, formations growing just under the surface. But we could see them changing, shooting up faster than the water level was dropping It’s as safe as ever, they said. Just protect your eyes.
By the time the scientists arrived it was too late.
The rest of the tour group will not be coming home. But the good news is that we’ve discovered a new species.
Saltily yours,
SallyDear Kris,
Peter always had a thing for Baby Jesuses, stealing them from nativity scenes. The one from Bethlehem would be ultimate souvenir, he said. I worried about him getting shot. Ha!
Despite the crowd of true believers, Peter grabbed Baby Jesus and started to pull him away. But the thing didn’t move. It stretched until there were two heads and two sets of prayerful hands and when the mitosis ended there were two Baby Jesuses. Peter tucked one under his shirt.
Outside, he tried to move his prize to his pack, but it had melted to his flesh, which now seemed made of plastic. He screamed as we pulled on Baby Jesus’s legs, but they just sucked into Peter as plastification spread. In the end, the rest of us stared in horror at the plastic Baby Jesus lying beatifically where Peter had stood.
With regrets,
MaryDear Rachel,
Easter started out pretty much as expected. Religion, brunch, an Easter egg hunt. I let Millie join the other kids and enjoyed an Irish coffee. But she returned crying that the eggs had run off. Run off? Had someone given her an Irish coffee? We went onto the field and where there had been colored eggs, now there were colored sheep. Pink ones, yellow ones, green and blue and orange spotted ones. One egg remained, and on closer inspection it clearly didn’t come from a chicken. It was huge, and getting bigger. Until—you guessed it!—it hatched into a fluffy sheep. Who knew?
Love,
Jacob
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Dear Laurie,
The fires burned for so long that we prayed for rain. Flooding drowned other countries and states, but here in the west we burned. So despite having lived through the most depressing winter of punishing gray, drizzling and pouring precipitation that stole all color from the world and sapped our will to live, we collectively turned our faces to the heavens to beg for its return.
Did the heavens smile on us? It’s hard to say. The rain is … different from before. At least it’s not gray.
Best,
LucyDear Alma & Stacy:
The locals have myths about spirits that inhabit the swimmin’ holes here, with specific gifts you’re supposed to bring them. Jimmy sought a beautiful sprite who, according to legend, would “make the world seem infinite.”
The sprite didn’t look like we’d imagined, and it regarded Jimmy with disdain. Maybe the candy he brought was the wrong kind. “I’ll grant your wish,” the being said with utter scorn.
Jimmy started shrinking rapidly. His tiny head dipped below the water, and I tried to scoop him out before he drowned, but he shrunk so fast that soon I couldn’t see him. If he’s alive, I’m sure the world seems a lot bigger to him now.
Regards,
EllenDear Claire,
We’ve seen the unimaginably bright flash of ignition, so I only have a few seconds to write you this pointless postcard, which will surely turn to dust even if the time machine’s flux field deflects the nuclear blast around us. So I’ll just say this: they found us. Even the past is not safe from the invaders, and running to it will only further disrupt history. Already I fear we’ve destroyed the Hanseatic League. Stay away from Mohenjo-daro!
Sincerely,
Dr. BrownDear Darryl,
When I was a kid caught a magic fish. It wasn’t very big; it could only grant small wishes. I wished to be friends with it, and after that I caught it again and again, wishing for things like sandwiches and good weather and luck as a fisherman. As the years passed, technology let us catch millions of tiny fish, but I stopped seeing the magic one. I did, however, once release a magic dolphin from our nets. In return I asked him about my fishy friend. The dolphin said, well… he’s in one of these tins.
Will we know him if we eat him? I’ll keep trying until I find out.
Love,
Eli
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Dear Per,
Once upon a time you said you had ridden a reindeer, and oh, was your mother mad at you! “You’re lying,” she screamed! And you were, I bet.
She’s gone mad. “I’ll do it,” she said. “Just get me a reindeer.” She started to search for one. “Why not ride that pig instead?” I asked her. And on she climbed! “Take my picture,” she said. “Send it to my useless son.” And so I did.
And then the pig took off! And she held on somehow, even without antlers to grab.
And she is gone, Per. Come home and help me find her.
Your neighborDear Paula:
First we heard its ominous footfalls. Remember how Snowball used to STOMP her little kitten feet? That, times 1,000. We knew we were going to die, eaten by a cat the size of a schoolbus. Even if it was friendly, it would still probably kill us, just playing. The cat puffed up its haunches, opened its mouth, revealing sharp teeth… and said, “Pleased to meet you; have you got any food?”
We were shocked, but sis managed to produce our matpakkes, and thank god for the herring. The cat was so happy she floomped over purring, and even let us pet her enormous belly.
Always pack a lunch! good advice!
Love,
NancyDear Turid:
There is a lot of debate, these days, about access to Norway’s “geological formations,” as these modern folks see them. Hordes travel to them, and it’s becoming unsafe. People need rescue. It’s expensive. Some are never seen again.
No longer do we need to make up a song and dance to lure humans to the altars. We just call it a “tourist attraction.” With thousands visiting per year, some are bound to be virgins, pure of heart and body and soul.
The gods have never been better fed.
With devotion,
A humble servantDeer human frend:
I m riting from total normal vacayshun to say hello. I saw many sites. Did fun things. Ate gud fud.
Met total normal kat hoo challenge me to Fiddal contest. You no I m best at Fiddal, so wun easy and definat lee did not trade boddys with kat. Kant wate to play Fiddal for you wen I get home. Lerned a new song that will make you loos mind.
luv yor human frend
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Dear mom:
“Get a room” doesn’t begin to cover my roommates on this trip. They made out in churches, during hikes, on busses. They snuck behind statues and museum exhibits, and were constantly taking “bathroom breaks” together. And every night. I was only one bed over, but did that stop them?
We visited a temple that’s supposed to grant wishes. I didn’t believe it, and anyway what I said wasn’t exactly a wish. All I said (channeling your parenting!) was “If you keep doing that you’re going to get stuck that way.”
The doctors say there’s nothing they can do. Their mouths are stuck so they can’t eat (or even scream), but they do look happy, for now.
Love,
SaraDear Dani:
They lay in wait for eons. Silent, eerie, beautiful. Science said they were just some ionized something or other, harmless. But ancient people knew better. They knew they weren’t always silent. The noise is unbearable & alien, & though I do not know the language, the malice behind it is clear.
Nordlys observers in the mountains were the first to go. When it touched them they just dissolved. We saw it on their webcams.
It’s getting lower. Soon it will meet the sea and there will be no escape. Already I dare not fly home. You were right. Should have gone on a tropical vacation!
With regrets,
JohnDear mom:
It started innocently: we took some LSD. Don’t pretend you never tried it; I’ve seen pics of you from the 70s. But maybe it was safer back then?
We had a great time! Everything turned surrealist, then impressionist. We finally understood the appeal of lava lamps and blacklight posters and “Revolution 9.”
When I woke and saw Ed he still looked all crazy. We thought we were still high, but the walls and the windows and the world outside were normal. It was only Ed—and my reflection—that remained psychedelic. You’ll see when we get home. Try not to have a flashback!
Your daughterDear crew:
I appreciate what you’ve done. You used my own vanity against me: I did think I deserved to be the first human to step foot on this new planet. A giant leap for me and who cares about the steps of mankind.
So I got what I wanted. Thanks!
I thought you’d be right behind me. I didn’t hear the hatch slam shut—sound travels differently here. But I saw it. I saw your faces through the portholes. And I saw the ion blast of the engines tear red wounds across the sky as you left.
Good joke. Very funny.
Come back any time now.
Your captain
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Dear… London?
We aren’t sure where to send this, actually.
We thought it was just another volcanic eruption. A mound rose and cracked open with fire. Point after point of fire, a ridge of it.
But then it got strange—the whole ridge reared up, shook, pushed itself up on giant fiery limbs. The points of flame now stretched vertically, a titanic spine.
We feared the creature would ravage our cities, but it strode right over Reykjavik and into the sea. It sniffed the air with a crackling black maw, and headed southeast into the ocean, water boiling behind it.
So beware, cities of Europe. The creature hungers for more than we could provide.
Love,
IcelandDear Pokemonsters,
I see you everywhere. With your orange feet, your black tail feathers, your tiny, tiny wings, and beak full of silvery fish.
No one told me you’d be so hard to catch! I asked Mario, in his woollen hat. He shook his head and pointed this way, and all the furry Pac-Men he was herding only baaed at me the way they do.
So I kept walking, and I came to this final level. I’ve tried, but the rules keep changing! Tetris now? It seems I must climb to reach you in your sea-side rookeries. But the blocks won’t stop moving!
What do you mean I need a phone to play this game? What game?
Love,
SybillDear Heidi,
There are trolls in the rocks, we were told. Take care not to anger them. But your husband scoffed when our guide said there was a spirit in the archway.
It was a beautiful day, but suddenly clouds blew in from nowhere. The sky darkened and the ocean roiled. The archway started to look like the maw of a beast, and the rocks above like squinty evil eyes. We all took a step back.
All but your husband.
I’ve never seen the ocean move the way it did. The tide rushed through the arch like it had been sucked. Your husband went through too, but we never did see him come out the other side. There was a small search effort, but once the locals learned he’d angered a troll the case was closed. You will never see him again.
With condolences,
RoyDear Morty:
I’m not sure when we are, because the gauge snapped off the time machine along with the reverse gear. Thankfully, we were in the past at the time. We’d wanted to see Jesus preach, but by the time we stopped it was all bird-headed men, and slaves were constructing the amphitheatre. Did you know the gods of ancient Egypt were real?
Real and really terrifying. We jammed the lever into fast-forward, heading home. When we stopped, the ancient city was a ruin. As it was in our time. But the parking lot was a ruin too. Our home was gone, and the college, and the only humans we saw were slaves again.
I think we overshot. Too bad about reverse gear, huh? Here’s hoping time is a circle!
Missing you,
Eli
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The story you’ve been telling about us isn’t true. “House of straw?” How dumb do you think we are? We had three little houses. All made of brick and fully wolf-proof. The wolf loped off with his tail between his legs. We thought for many happy years that was the end of it.
But the wolf returned with a champion, a flying reptilian beast. “I’ll huff and I’ll puff,” the beast said. We didn’t believe her—her fiery breath took us by surprise. I barely got out in time. My brothers crisped like pan-fried bacon.
Moral? There isn’t one. Build your house of anything you like, it won’t save you from a dragon.
Love,
One Little PigDear Michael,
I think there’s been a misunderstanding. I’m a big fan of your work. I mean, really. You’re like the king of the angels! I was coming over to tell you so, and you got all aggressive with me. The swords! The holy rage! But I think now I see the problem. See, all of us serpent types have kind of a bad reputation, but it’s really a broad overgeneralization. I’m just a fancy snake.
Please don’t slay me.
Yours, the “dragon”Dear Bugs,
I need some advice. I have tried everything to catch this little pest, but boy is he fast—and lucky! He evades all my traps, no matter what I do. He’s led me from the desert all the way around the world. Seriously, there’s snow here!
Anyway, you seem like the same kind of lucky as this little bugger. So how can I catch him? Right now, I’m thinking that I can dislodge a boulder from some of these cliffs when he runs under. Seems like a pretty solid plan, right? Nothing could go wrong, right?
Your pal, Wile E. CoyoteDear voters,
End the embargo, they said. What could go wrong, they said.
There is a remarkable resourcefulness to a little island country that’s been starved for years, forced to make due. Cubans make MacGyver look like a useless dilettante. We let them have access to the internet and new cars. Seemed so simple.
Now the Cuban flag hangs in Washington, DC. Tomorrow we learn how to roll cigars.
Regretfully,
HillaryDear little brother,
Do you remember Bestefar? He loved us with all his icy heart, before he died.
It snowed last night and this morning I felt compelled to trudge through the knee-deep wonderland to visit him. The snow covered the tombstones, but I still knew where Bestefar’s was. I dug down. Instead of the familiar plaque my mittens brushed a pane of glass. A window.
And there he was, standing behind it. He slid it open, and the snow didn’t fall in, it fell down. The world was sideways, and I had to climb up to get through the opening.
We are waiting for you, and the next snowstorm.
Big sis
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