Tag Archives: letter

First Week at the Nexus

I realize this is two letters home from children in a week, but they’re very different and apparently this is how my mind is thinking at the moment.

copyright Joe Owens

copyright Joe Owens

Dear Mum and Dad,

Greetings from the land of inter-dimensional hospitality! Well, my first week at the Nexus Hotel is over. It didn’t drive me insane but there were several points where I wished I’d never been born. Sorry Mum, you did your best and all.

It’s pretty brutal out here. I had a party of Neanderthals stumble in from some primitive dimension and demand the first floor suites. No credit card, of course, but I got half a gazelle as payment. They trashed the rooms and set fire to two of the beds. They also massacred half a Venusian furry convention that was meeting on the third floor. I comped the survivors their rooms. Hope that’s okay.

On Wednesday, we had a couple dark specters arrive. Didn’t pay, of course, just loitered around haunting the place. I got them exorcised finally. It’s fine now.

Some sort of space princess came two days ago. That’s when things started looking up. She’s pretty. I let her have the top two floors indefinitely. I’m redecorating for her, turning it into a castle.

Don’t worry about the hotel, I’m handling everything.

Your son,


Winky’s father put down the letter. “Maybe I should go help him out. Just for a few days.”

“You’re retired,” his wife said. “You promised.”

Her husband noticed the way she was fingering her knife. “Right, right. I’m sure he’ll be fine.”


Letter from Camp – Friday Fictioneer

copyright Erin Leary

copyright Erin Leary

Hey Mom and Dad!

So, this is my first letter from camp! It is wonderful here. Say hello to Brad and Margot for me. No point writing twice. 🙂 The food is amazing! I’d get so fat except for all the activities, like 3-leg races. My team has broken the record for fastest time! Kassie was on my team. I’m glad she came or she’d be missing all the fun.

I might not send another letter. Too busy having fun! I’ll help you plant the roses when I get back, Mom. Please don’t do it without me.

Your daughter,




Note: If anyone is reading this on a black and white screen, this story may not make any sense. Just saying.


Dear Mr. Jackson – Friday Fictioneers

copyright Jan Wayne Fields

copyright Jan Wayne Fields

Dear Mr. Jackson

Dear Mr. Jackson,

I am writing to inform you that


Hey Travis,

How are you? Listen, you remember that concert a few months ago when


Travis, you bastard! You ruined my life and now you’re gonna



I really need you now. I feel so alone. I can’t tell my parents and


Hey babe!

I got some big news for you!! I’m so excited and


Dear Prick,

I know it’s hard for a colossal douche like you to understand but



I’ve got something to say. Please, please don’t be mad but



Please call me. We have to talk.


Dearest Melissa: A Letter While Stuck in a Tree

Dearest Melissa,

I am currently stuck in the top of a tall pine tree, after having been chased here by wolves. It is quite lonesome, and so I am writing this letter to you that so you can share, at least partially, in my discomfort. I have no pen or paper to use, so I am writing this letter on the currents of the air with the hope that it will find you at last, wherever you are.

Incidentally, I hope this reaches you and not another Melissa, since that would be quite awkward.

It all began, I must confess, with a dream. A dream such as you could only imagine. I was walking along the banks of the Nile, when twelve crocodiles danced past me, most of them doing the foxtrot. I had initially thought they were alligators, but the littlest one, doing the hornpipe, disabused me of this idea.

Then I saw it, standing on top of the Great Pyramid: a great, grey wolf. It was such a noble animal (much nobler than the pug that I had when last we met) that I immediately began yearning to have it as a pet—no, more than a pet: a companion, an ally, perhaps even a steed.

I awoke from the dream with the idea of taming a wolf firmly in my brain. Still, I felt I needed guidance. I consulted my horoscope and under October 14: Cancer, it read, “You are about to embark on a great quest. Get rid of the things of the past and face your future with nothing but great force of will.”

It was as if the writer had been looking into my soul. I immediately put an ad in the newspaper to sell my pug and boarded the next flight to Yellowknife, in northern Canada. And so, here I am.

It did not take me long to encounter wolves. There were some lurking around the airport, but they looked too commercialized and I walked past them. Then I saw some at the supermarket, but they looked like town wolves. You might as well have a dog as a town wolf, so again, I let them be.

I reached the edge of town and plunged into the vast, uncharted wild. In a moment, I was lost, with no idea of my heading. I asked a passing lumberjack the way, but he ignored me in his haughty, Canadian fashion. Then, just ahead, I saw a great pack of wolves congregated around the carcass of a caribou. I was brave; I was calm; I channeled all my force of will, just as the Bumpkin Gazette’s horoscope writer had instructed me, and so I slowly walked to meet the wolves, and with them, my fate.


It is quite phenomenal how much force of will a pack of wild wolves possesses. I must have been out of practice, because a moment later, I found myself fleeing through the woods until I spied this very tree and climbed it, seconds before the leader of the pack leapt at me. I must now wait them out, it seems. Somehow, I have a feeling they will lose interest in me and wander away. I will continue writing later.

Several hours later

Dearest Melissa, the wolves have not left. It seems that instead, they are setting up a sort of camp underneath my tree. More wolves are arriving and they are building temporary shelters of branches and caribou skins. A spider’s web-building and a beaver’s dam-building are nothing in comparison to a wolf’s house construction, although I had hitherto been unaware of that fact. If I ever make it out alive, I must contact the National Geographic.

The wolves all look sleek and well-fed, so I can only imagine they are doing this out of spite. Why, I cannot imagine. It may be because of an unfortunate incident that occurred some time ago. I had to relieve myself (I am sorry to mention it, but it is vital to the story) and unfortunately, it hit the leader of the pack on the head. I yelled an apology in my best Canadian accent, but alas, it did no good. The dialect must be different in the North.

Several more hours later

I am thankful that wolves cannot climb trees, but still, they are trying very hard to overcome my vertical margin of safety. For a while, they were taking turns gnawing at the trunk with their teeth but luckily for me, the wood was too hard for them. I saw one try to enter into negotiations with a black bear that was lumbering by, but it seemed uninterested in climbing up to get me.

Dearest Melissa, I sincerely hope that you get this message, which I am assigning to the wind to carry straight to your ears. I brought no food or water, being under the impression that the Canadian wilderness was a second Garden of Eden. As well, it is getting dark and quite cold.

Call the Mounties, my dear. Otherwise, I fear that I am screwed.

A Hate Letter to Speed Bumps

Dear speed bumps,

I hate you. I hate the fact that you have shaken my poor little motorcycle to bits by having to continuously drive over you and worn down my brakes by constantly having to slow down to not totally kill my front wheel.

Almost all speed bumps in Korea are painted with this pattern.

Almost all speed bumps in Korea are painted with this pattern.

I hate the fact that you seem to spawn mostly in the countryside (in Korea, at least), where the open road beckons and the Killjoy McGee that you are keeps getting in the way.

I hate your fake-out cousins, the lines that are painted on the roads to make it look like a speed bump is there.  That’s a lie and nobody likes a liar.

Look at it: just paint but no bump. What a liar.

Look at it: just paint but no bump. What a liar.

I especially hate your brother, the ninja speed bump that doesn’t have any lines so that it blends in. I hit those full-on and almost go flying.

In conclusion, you slow me down unnecessarily, you damage my bike, and you cause people to die.

Please go away forever,


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