Tag: svalbard

Postcards: Questionable Decisions

eskaftun

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Retro image of a woman rapturously delighted with a towel that's coming out of a massive mid-century dryer.
Dear Investors,

Development of the Cissell Compact dryer has hit a snag. Our chemically infused laundry does pacify its wearer, but stupefies washers to uselessness. Test housewives became euphoric, clinging to towels like their babies to blankies. The comedown drove them mad. “Oppression!” they shouted, vowing never to wash another man’s sock. They destroyed the prototype with frightening strength and fury. They tore off their brassieres and fled into the night, babies forgotten, arms linked, ululating with joy or rage.

Testing will resume once the Cissell Compact 2 is built.

Sincerely,
Cecil Cissell, CEO
Image of a derelict train engine and a barn-red station building, in a stark and hostile-looking Arctic landscape.
Dear Shel,
Travelers spoke in hushed tones of the Last Train, which led to such a place as one would never leave: valley, mountains, sky. What station did it depart from? What did it cost? No one knew. It was only a legend.
But then one weary night I saw an engine and single car gleaming at the platform, departure imminent. The destination said merely “NORTH.” I had but a moment to choose. I jumped aboard as the doors snicked shut.
So here I am. As I disembarked, the train aged rapidly until it looked abandoned for decades. It is desolate here: windswept valley, rocky mountains, ominous sky. I fear I can never leave.
Regretfully yours,
Jess

Postcards: Wishes Do Come True

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Image of a windsurfer against a stark Arctic terrain.
Dear Gabriel,
As one of Earth’s top surfers, you are invited to represent us in the galaxy’s 37th-Millennial Celestial Surf Race. The organizers tell us that the race launches from a sea exactly like the Pacific Ocean (if it were liquid mercury). You’ll soar over mountains just like Mauna Kea (if it were lifeless and dusted in sulfuric snow). The rogue moons, comets, and asteroids racers will harness to are apparently spectacular. This is a tremendous honor—the organizers say no humans have ever made the journey before… Or maybe they said none have survived the journey? Either way, we’re all very excited for you. Go Team Earth! Do us proud!

Sincerely,
Earth Delegate,
Interstellar Millennial Games Committee
Van Gogh-style image of Seattle, with the Space Needle in the foreground and Mt. Rainier in the background.
Dear Allyssa,
I took Sarah on a perfect Seattle tourism day: Ye Olde Curiosity Shop, the art museum, sunset at the Space Needle. “I wish Van Gogh had painted reality,” Sarah mused. Two creepy little voices from near her ankles said “Granted,” and the sky … hardened into bold swoops of animate color. A yellow swirl struck the Needle’s spire and the whole tower rocked. We ran. “Stupid oddity shop socks!” Sarah yelled. “The lady said they were smart!” Not smart like smart wool; smart like malicious elves. At the bottom of the long stairway, we spilled into a city gorgeously menaced—strafed by colorful but dangerous air.
When you visit, we’ll go to the Troll—it’s safe under the bridge.
~Tiffany

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

Postcard Bonus: Spooky Visitors

eskaftun
Spooky image of a man with a headlamp backlit on wet, rocky ground
Dear Marta,
The ones who emerged looked enough like those who’d gone down that when they walked up out of the mine, grieving women fell into their arms. “Incredible that you’ve survived so long since the collapse!” they said, and didn’t ask how. It was only later that the oddness became apparent. How they stood a shade too upright. Spoke too precisely. Never seemed to blink. Their children were grown by then. The ones whose weird eyes didn’t blink quite enough. They’re in control now. Mayor, city council, all of it. It’s fair enough, we suppose. They’ve never said so, but it’s clear they’ve been in this land far longer than we have.
Best,
Lisbet
Image of a light shining up into the night sky from the center of Stonehenge
Dear Earthlings,
The transmission will reach you in several thousand “years,” as it must travel at the speed of light. Assuming my people aim correctly, this beam will traverse a straight line across the universe until it lands in the middle of your receiving ring, forming the connection that will allow us to visit your delicious planet. This message contains the instructions for constructing the ring. Make sure to build it to spec, because we very much look forward to m/eating you.
Your devouringted friends,
The “Aliens”

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