Author: eskaftun

Postcards: We Shan’t Return

eskaftun

Patreon is the place to catch every postcard story I write, starting at $3/mo. One per week! If you enjoy these, please subscribe.

Image of an Airstream trailer with kludgy wings and parachutes, atop a metal structure between industrial buildings.
Dear Dale, I only hoped to achieve flight. Could sails carry my little lead balloon across the continent, over an ocean, drifting on the wind? I accelerated over a mountain ledge, and my stomach dropped. I was going to plummet to infamy rather than soaring to fame. But something happened, something I hadn’t calculated. I rocketed up, into space! The blue marble dropped away, shrinking to nothing. I got scared—this tin can wasn’t sealed against the vacuum of space. I held my breath and squeezed my eyes shut. When I opened them, the sky outside was as blue as Earth’s. I’ve landed atop some kind of structure. Soon I’ll climb down and explore this new planet. I hope it has tacos. Yours, Horace
Vintage-style image of an organ in a cavern.
Dearest Terrence, The cave sang; that’s how I found it. Wisps of unearthly melody from a crack in the earth. I descended heedlessly, enraptured by the siren call. After many twists and turns the cavern opened into a vast auditorium whose very stalactites were ringing. I stood inside a vast instrument, and at a keyboard sat a being the likes of which I’d never seen. Covered in soft dark fur, beckoning with a long tail, blinking her huge eyes in my lantern’s dim light. I dimmed the light further, sat at her side, and oh what a duet we played! I shan’t return. Love, Millicent

Postcards: Ancient Mistakes

eskaftun

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IMage of the Chichen-Itza pyramid against a purple sky. A person climbs its steps.
Dear Kirk,
The UFO descended from a gorgeous sky—so fast!—until the whole pyramid was shadowed by its enormity. A loudspeaker spat crackly syllables belonging to no earth language, overlaid with a robotic, uncanny, emotionless second voice: “Payment on this structure is in arrears. The grace period of one millennium has been exceeded. Repossession will begin in 10… 9…” There must have been a lag, because before “8,” the whole giant pyramid shuddered up into the UFO, with us clinging to it for dear life. The aliens say they’ll only take us home if Earth pays what they owe, so… I’m guessing this is goodbye.
I always said I wanted to travel more!
Love,
May
Image of a statue head broken on the floor, looking gloomy.
Dear aspiring emperor, This lesson can only be learned too late: photos don’t steal souls, but sculpture does, embedding a piece of you in every pair of stone, plaster, or metal eyes. A heady rush at first, to be sure! Once, I looked over countless town squares across my empire. But statues topple even easier than empires. Now my many eyes behold middens, ruins, rioters with pickaxes. Yet I live on, perhaps forever, infamous, with nothing but my memories as I watch my works crumble. Yours in despair, Ozzie

Postcards: Cute, Fluffy & Powerful

eskaftun

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Image of a white mouse perched on the lower jaw of something large and toothsome.
Dear Punky, Tonight, we take over the world, using the very creature who tried to eat us. The probes have been inserted into his brain, and a remote test showed all his voluntary functions under my control. With teeth and claws like this, I can’t fail! I trust you prepared my cockpit in his hollowed-out eyeball, and secured the passage to it through his sinuses, so into the mouth I go! This would be perilous if you hadn’t disabled his swallowing reflex. You did disable it, right? When next we meet I’ll be monster-emperor of the world! The Brian
Image of a shaggy sheep standing under a red post box in a grassy field with rocky hills behind.
Dear Applicant,

We at Muse-By-Mail appreciate your interest in our services. It’s not easy to admit you need supernatural help with your art, and it’s more difficult still to obtain the address and special postage required to deliver your card to our remote mailbox. Kudos.

You have requested inspiration for an epistolary project that will impress your friends and family. While this is a unique proposal, The Muses are not currently interested in inspiring it. We hope to see more of your groveling in the future. Next time, include an offering.

Sincerely,
Baabaara Gimmer,
Muse-By-Mail intern

Postcards: Unseen Dangers, Dangerously Unseen

eskaftun

Remember, patreon is the place to catch every postcard story I write from now on, starting at $3/mo. One per week! If you enjoy these, subscribe.

Image of two space-suited cats exiting a lunar lander called "MIZIA," being greeted enthusiastically by flag-waving cats wearing strange hats.
Dear Earthlings, We were human when we launched, but treated like animals. “Volunteered” for a likely suicide mission to find the lost lunar explorers. Imagine our surprise to be greeted like heroes here, embraced like family, welcomed home. We took our helmets off and found our faces transformed. Imagine our joy. Send as many ships as you like; we’ll welcome all who make the journey. Or send no more and leave us in peace. Warmest regards, Cat People of the Moon
Image of an ornate set of clothes on a headless, handless mannikin.
Dear Admissions, Please accept my application to the School of Fashion. I’ve enclosed a photo of myself modeling my favorite items I’ve made in sewing class here at St. Clair’s School for the Invisible. I couldn’t choose, so I wore everything! As you can see, I favor bold color and texture combinations. It’s so important for clothing to really catch the eye, for safety (and personal expression too, of course). I hope you like it. A lot of my blood, sweat & tears went into these pieces—it’s hard to use a sewing machine when you can’t see your fingers. Thanks for your consideration! Tanya

Postcards From Unlikely Writers

eskaftun

If you’re enjoying these, hop over to patreon to get every postcard story I write from now on, for as low as $3/mo. One per week! Some postcards will still find their way here, but not all.

Watercolor image of a striped cat at the Colosseum.
Welcome, visitors!
Behind me, observe the ruins. Thanks to our help, humans built this colosseum shortly after we domesticated them. But it fell to ruin. Did ancient lions curse them while dying in pointless contests here? Purrhaps.
Humans built many more structures after losing this one. For centuries, they kept our bellies full enough, so despite their many failures we let them believe they ruled this planet. The last straw was a bird flu—humans let it kill many cats before our scientists took over. A simple tweak to the virus, spread by a grateful Avian Nation, eliminated humans once and for all. This ruin is a monument to their hubris—and to the fabled “belly scritches” our ancestors regretted losing.
Enjoy your visit,
Docent Tabitha
Image, from above, of overlapping multi-colored umbrellas.
Dear Festivalgoer,
You know what never gets old, even after eons? Ruining things. Some water drops enjoy freezing, making the big weird primates fall and crash their metal symbionts. Others are obsessed with erosion. Many like to flash mob, flooding things. To me, the greatest joy of all is to be cold rain. To streak at the speed of gravity, striking the tiny gap between clothes and bare neck, the little hole between umbrellas, the pair of upturned eyes. It makes every other part of the cycle worth it. Even boring ocean duty. Even percolating into coffee. Even flushing a toilet. Look out, I’m coming. And I’m bringing friends.
~Water Droplet #H20-99N0FU704SEA

Postcards: Beware!

eskaftun

Remember, patreon is the place to catch every postcard story I write from now on, starting at $3/mo. One per week! If you enjoy these, I hope you’ll hop over to patreon and subscribe.

Image of the Little Mermaid statue in København, with swans and twinkly lights.
Dear Erica,
In England, they say that all the swans belong to the King—but they never asked the swans. Humans rarely think of other species. In Denmark (where the “mute” swan is the National Bird), they celebrate a fantasy version of my people, in which one of us is unwise, helpless, mute. But we are none of these things. And the swans are on our side. They’re in all your parks already, protected and underestimated. The war between sea and land is coming, and though you are burdened with legs I love you still. Beware the swans, save this one who flies with my message. Meet me at the beach.
Love,
Ariel

Image of a picture-perfect snowy Alpine castle.
Dear Joelle,
If “Abra Cadabra Travel” offers you a “tiny vacation you won’t believe,” say no. At first, the castle was magical—snow sparkling like fairy dust against a backdrop of mountains, trees, perfectly blue sky. Then, a furious earthquake struck, followed by a blizzard. We tried to leave, but after a day’s hike, we hit an impenetrable barrier that curved up and around in every direction. We saw only our reflection in it, no hint of the world outside. We’re trapped in some kind of globe with no escape. The earthquakes and blizzards continue. Save yourself!
Dinah

Postcards: Misunderstandings

eskaftun

If you’re enjoying these, hop over to patreon to get every postcard story I write from now on, for as low as $3/mo. One per week! Some postcards will still find their way here, but not all.

Image of a hooded skeleton playing guitar.

My dearest Marilyn,
Meeting you was the highlight of my life. That a humble musician could play his way into the heart of such a beautiful traveler as your! When I played for you it was as if the gods above channeled their divine harmonies through my unworthy fingers.
It breaks my heart that you had to leave so soon. But I was cheered by your promise to come back for me once you prepare your home for our life together. I cannot wait. Yet I shall wait, until the sky crumbles if need be, for love such as yours.
Until you return, I will play my vihuela.
Yours eternally,
Daniel
Image of giant crickets held on a stick between two hunters.
Attn: High Command First Contact isn’t going well. We were prepared for the planet’s sapients to fear us. Since we can’t vocalize their speech or contort our digits into their non-verbal languages, we printed signs: “We come in peace,” etc. But we misjudged our relative sizes—although we’re huge compared to creatures like us on their planet, we’re not big enough to be seen as monsters. They see us as food. They captured all 8 members of the initial landing party and never even saw our (to them) tiny signs. What are your orders? Attempt peaceful contact again, or skip to the contingency plan? Hopper Team Upsilon-Nine

Postcards: Careful Who You Let In

eskaftun

If you’re enjoying these, hop over to patreon to get every postcard story I write from now on, for as low as $3/mo. One per week! Some postcards will still find their way here, but not all.

Image of polar bear on ice, surrounded by a bloody mess.

Dear Tara,
The puppies are growing up fast! Especially Bjørn; he’s MUCH bigger than his siblings and causes more mischief. I’m pleased at least one is thriving; I still don’t know what killed their poor mama.
Today I let them out to romp in the fresh snow, and boy did Bjørn get into something messy! I’d be mad if his self-satisfied smile wasn’t so stinking cute. I was so busy cleaning him up I barely noticed that the other puppies weren’t underfoot. They never came home! Tomorrow I’ll look for them, but for now at least I have my Bjørn to cuddle with. He’s a little bitey, but we’re working on it.
Love,
Ellie
Image of a sexy hitchhiker

Dear Sophia,

We were fighting in the car, as usual, when he pulled over for this hitchhiker that looked like a time traveler from an old-timey pinup magazine. Leans right over me, asks where she’s going. Ogles her legs. “Get in the back,” he tells me. He had that look on his face, that wild look, so I did.

Not two miles later he reached over and grabbed her thigh. Instantly he screamed and writhed in agony. The woman parked our car and then she … opened … like a hole in the universe. She ate him whole. And then she was a woman again, winking at me as she left.

It’s been a few days now. The shock is fading and I still don’t miss him. Thanks, hitchhiking monster lady!

~Rita

Postcards: Thanks a million!

eskaftunLeave a comment

I have a patreon for these now! That is where you can see every postcard story that I write from now on, starting at $3/mo. One per week! Some postcards will still find their way here, but not all. If you enjoy these, I hope you’ll hop over to patreon and subscribe.

Image of a medieval fish wearing an Elizabethan collar and holding some foliage in the arm just in front of its dorsal fin.
Dear Aldrovandi Veterinary Clinic,
Thank you for operating on my fish. I was at my wit’s end with his soliloquizing; his rhymes were slanted at best and he was shaky on iambic pentameter. He’s quiet now, and the collar you provided keeps him from mouthing at the stitches. But they’ve opened up nonetheless—and an arm sprouted from the incision! Is this an expected side effect? He’s taken to grabbing whatever he can get his hand on and brandishing it like a sword, guarding it like treasure, or proffering it to other fish like a bouquet. He really is quite a strange fish. Any advice would be appreciated!
Best,
Philippa
Image of scale versions of the Kelpie statues in Scotland—large metal horses. A man is touching the snout of one of them.
Dearest Wizard,
It’s almost time. I couldn’t have done it without your spellwork to weld animating incantations into the metal. I’ve been tinkering with the beauties, building variations on a theme. My enemies think the two in the water are the largest. They think those and the “scale models” are the sum total of my “art.” No one knows how many kelpies I’ve raised. Gorgeous metal monsters of all sizes, who shall soon rampage and rid this island of my foes… and any unlucky bystanders. Consider this your warning: leave Scotland immediately.
With love and gratitude,
The Artist