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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We’ve had high seas this week, obscuring the line between land and water along the Maricon to the point that, if not for the lamp posts I might have driven right into the ocean. The lamp posts, and the fearsome waves. And . . . something else. At first I wasn’t sure what I was seeing; the spray seemed to detach, as though animated. I came to believe they were ghosts. One of the spray-ghosts drifted to the roadway and enveloped a car, which then veered right off the road into the surf. The ghosts had gotten a taste for blood.
If this keeps up, the waterfront will become a ghost town—literally. I’ve read your books, and I feel you may know how to face this menace.
Yours truly, a fan in needDear mom,
Today they took us on a “tour” of a cigar factory. They promised it would be fun, and educational, and we’d leave with a free, freshly-rolled cigar. But then we heard squealing tires as the bus pulled away, and a heavy slam as the door was bolted shut. We were told that we live here now. Fortunately I had bought this postcard in the giftshop on the way in. I’ve rolled it into the leaves, and I can only hope that whoever buys this cigar will notice the flawed texture before lighting it on fire, and furthermore that that kind soul bothers to pay for postage.
If you’re reading this, please send help.
Yours desperately, VickiDarling,
I love you. This time apart has proven to me the lengths to which I’m willing to go to keep you in my life. It’s true that I came here on a dalliance. Nevermind what I told you about traveling for work; I had a lover. We spent a few days kissing and rolling on the white Caribbean sand. But I soon grew tired of her. When she “suggested” that we do away with you, it pulled at my heart strings. I told her that of course we would, and I embraced her as tightly as I ever had. And then I dashed her head against a low stone wall and pitched her into the waves.
Now nothing will keep me away from you.
Love, Your Devoted HusbandDear Senora Nunez,
You said I was crazy! But I always maintained that the minute you stop having canons ready, that’s when the hordes will invade. Just look what happened when the earthquake knocked down a section of the Great Wall of China: Mongols everywhere. So what if it’s been 200 years since we last saw the invaders? So what if most of the townspeople have moved away and there’s little left to defend?
Recently I announced that I was decommissioning the canons, and within a week the place was swarming with attackers. Good thing I’d lied.
Please come home. It’s safe now that our enemies have been defeated.
Yours, Colonel NunezDear children,
Has it happened where you are? I woke up the other day in black and white. Everything was in black and white, I thought: my house, my clothes, my bicycle. Out on the street it was the same. The old cars and the once-bright buildings were stark as an old photograph. The only thing still in color was the flag—everywhere a flag hangs, the red white and blue remain vibrant. Is it the same in America? Are you left with only the primary colors of patriotism?
If not, this month instead of money, please send some colors home.
Sincerely, Your loving father
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