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!
Paula
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 husband
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,
Emil
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!
Want your very own postcard story? You can buy one here.
Wondering WTF this is? Start here.