Tag: magic

Postcards: Unlikely Magic

eskaftun
Image of primary-colored swans swimming.
Dear family,
The natal gene tweak trial people assured us that any powers our baby developed would be benign. The trouble is that powers kick in during toddlerhood, and as we all know, toddlers can be a menace with literally anything. Maeve can control colors with her mind. Someday, she’ll be a top-notch interior designer. For now, she turns the park swans Crayola colors, which isn’t ideal. But it’s a hell of a lot better than what she does to our clothes, skin, and hair. Or her own. There will be no family Christmas card this year.
Love,
Amber & Forrest
Aerial image of a person with an umbrella; it looks like they are flying against a concrete sky.
Dear Mom,
I guess I’ve moved out?
I was on a walk—trying to sort out my life—and I got caught in an intense rainstorm. The only thing open was this spooky, dark shop. I went in anyway. “Choose your magic,” an eerie voice said. And there was my umbrella, bright and rainbowy like the one I had as a kid, but big. The tag promised it would “Take you anywhere you ask.” It wasn’t even that expensive. What the hell? I thought. When I opened up the umbrella, I whispered “Take me home.”
I held on for dear life as the umbrella ZOOMED me up into the air toward your house … but then it kept going! Hours later it set me down in this … commune, I guess. I’m a little scared to go in, but maybe I live here now?
Love,
Amy

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Postcards: Three complaints & a love letter

eskaftun
image of a leprechaun crossing sign
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. Murphy
image of a very not-amused-looking owl
Dear 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.
image of several people in front of a sign reading "lost persons area"
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 Meier
Image of weird bumps on a seashore
Dear 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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