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A quote: “That men do not learn very much from the lessons of history is the most important of all the lessons of history.” ~~ Aldous Huxley
I’ll start with a story …
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Dearest Mother,
I write in haste as the post is about to leave and we only see him twice a month.
Virgil and I are now farming our own land. It was sad to see how abandoned it had been. By territory rules our hours are long to secure title, but our crops are healthy and, lord willing, we will see much success at harvest.
Your grandchildren miss you. We worry you are still in the midst of the Troubles and wish you here where you will be protected.
Your loving daughter,
Dora
Recovered Territory
Year of Our Lord 2122.
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Now, it’s your turn.
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. featured image, cropped, Adobe Stock standard license
Lewis says: I apologized, long and hard, several times, emails, texts, and even snail mail! He wouldn’t respond. I was wrong, very wrong, excuses and explanations not withstanding, I tried to get over it. Weeks, months, now years have gone by, no response. I am beginning to think I might have gotten something out of this lesson. Just because you have the same parents doesn’t mean you have any kind of bond. It was never there, before the argument, and now long after, it’s a good history lesson. Don’t repeat. I won’t miss any response any more than I miss him. Done!
Sheila Garrett says: The copies of the map were done and addressed to the court, my family, and the settlement. The claim papers were signed and sealed, ready to be logged into the settlement records.
I looked out the window at the lake, a blue jewel nestled among mountain peaks, and the ship that floated upon her. I smiled, gathering the papers, and locking the door behind me. I left the papers in the post box at the dock.
I won’t be back. The stars await.
Navig8r says: Layers within layers. With the blank seal, the postman will still guess my identity. Gossips will begin to gossip. The tyrant has eyes and ears in may places. Let them think it is a clumsy attempt by a manor born lad to avoid the scandal of loving a maid from the lower estates. Our butler posting it from a different village will make it seem that my parents are being deceived, further whetting the appetites of the gossips.
The tyrant will be bored by all of this and less inclined to direct his gaze at one of our best agents.
Fletch says: Dr. Seward,
The vampires continue to plague me. I can scarce leave my home at night. The little bats are the most worrisome for they come quietly and with speed. I have taken to wearing a metal collar, and thus parry their bites.
The garlic has proven ineffective. The cross keeps them at distance but does not kill them. I have also had success with salt for they will not cross it. They have become a vermin and pestilence. I had hoped to be rid of them by now. Will tell of further success in my next letter.
Still hunting,
Van Helsing
Cameron says: Mom and Dad,
By the time you have received this letter, I will be long gone. Great-grandpa’s notes weren’t just random scribbles. He actually found a path to an alternate Earth. I’m sending this letter to you because using the level of technology we have here to send a message is forbidden.
I’m doing well but I won’t be returning. I have found a place free from the crime that plagued my neighborhood. In two days, a separate post will arrive with enough funds for you to pay off the house and move to that retirement community.
Take care,
me
The paper was yellowed with age, yet still flexible in a way modern wood-pulp papers never are. The ink might be faded, but the words remained legible. You don’t see that kind of penmanship these days, the graceful looping letters, the bold capitals of another era, before printers, before typewriters.
“Ma’am, it’s a letter home from my several-times-great-uncle, during the War Between the States,.” The choice of names for that conflict was as indicative of the pilot-astronaut’s origins as his accent, broad as the open range of Texas. “It’s only a few grams, just a little bit of my personal allowance, honestly.”
“But it’s a family treasure.” I still felt awkward just holding it. “You do realize that if I place it on display, it could be damaged or stolen.”
“That was a risk I took when I brought it up here, Miz Jessica. Given what’s going on right now, it needs to be seen.”
Reading it a second time, I realized he was right. Until now, Shepardsport and the other lunar settlements had stood aloof from the low-grade civil war rumbling along at the bottom of Earth’s gravity well. But the Flannigan Administration just had to push the issue, turning an invitation into the Expulsions.
This simple, homely letter would be a reminder that this was not the first time that brother fought brother, that the United States had survived that conflict and that we could survive this one as well.
Dupin says: Another missive from the Burgrave. He equivocates as much as the Regent he wishes to overthrow. I understand his desire. We have given homage and sworn fealty. The Regent forgets his duties as Protector. The attacks from the north increase, yet the Regent does nothing.
I break the seal. Finally, a call to action. Do I do this thing? I could bring this to the Regent, but what would he do, ultimately?
My fealty is to the Burgrave and the country, not to the personage of the Regent. I roust my contingent.
We ride to victory or the executioner’s axe.
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