This is a postcard story. And as with most good stories, it's
fictional, full of untruths, a bagful of lies. At least some
of it. The other parts, as best I am able to ascertain, may
be true. I'll let you decide for yourself.
It's about Joshua, a young man, maybe your age or perhaps a
bit older, who traveled all the way from Ireland to America,
to a small town in the North Georgia mountains. I found him
in the local Starbucks (yes, there are even Starbucks in the
North Georgia mountains), slouching a bit in his seat, his
green eyes staring at me from under shaggy blond-brown hair
that'd fallen into his face.
After some polite chit-chat, Joshua confided, “I inherited my
green eyes from my mother, who just happens to be a fairy. An
Irish fairy. And not a good fairy, either. Not at all Disney-like.
No Cinderella story here. That's why I'm running away, as far and
fast as I am able.”
More next week . . . Love Grandma
-1-
Aug 14
Dearest Lucas
If you remember my last postcard, young Joshua had confided he'd
run away from his mother, a fairy. From Ireland. You can imagine
my reaction to this bizarre confession. Why, he must've been
suffering from some sort of delusion if he truly believed what
he'd told me. If he didn't, then at best he'd simply been trying
to get a rise from me. At worst, he was some sort of huckster.
Possibly dangerous. Of course I kept my thoughts to myself.
I excused myself. I started to turn to leave.
Joshua's expectant look, along with the light in his green eyes,
withered. He hung his head. And I could have sworn at that very
moment, the tip of one pointy brown ear, like that of a mountain
goat, peeked out from beneath his shaggy hair. But it couldn't be!
I whipped my head back around for a better look. All was in order.
No ear here. It must have been a trick of the light.
I hurried out of the Starbucks, after Grandpa, to the safety of
the SUV.
More next week . . . Love Grandma
-2-
Aug 21
Dearest Lucas
Upon retelling this tale, I believe Joshua shook me up more
than I'd realized with his tales of evil mothers and bad fairies.
I was glad to be rid of him and on our way. Unfortunately, just as
I thought I'd be able to put this entire incident behind me, as I
reached for the door handle of our SUV, Joshua ran right up to the
driver's side door, tap, tap, tapping on the window, waiting for
your grandpa to respond.
I jumped in the SUV, but not in time to stop Grandpa from
rolling down his window.
“Your wife here tells me you are headed to Blue Ridge today,” he
said with a precocious smile and an Irish lilt to his voice.
“I just thought, if it is not too much of an imposition, you might
drop me?”
Your grandpa with his love of all things Irish, immediately warmed
to Joshua. So, even as I shook my head no, Joshua hopped into the
back seat. With no more mention of fairies or running away, thank
goodness, Grandpa and Joshua hit it off right away. It was as if
they were long lost friends.
More next week . . . Love Grandma
-3-
Aug 28
Dearest Lucas
As I mentioned last time, Grandpa, Joshua, and I were in the SUV,
on our way to Blue Ridge, a mountain town near the Tennessee and
North Carolina borders. Joshua regaled us with descriptions of
the Irish countryside, wild and green, with fairy mounds dating
from ancient times, that stand even today. And Grandpa, having
taken a distinct liking to this boy, shared some of his Irish
heritage.
Did you know our clan, the Edge clan (Grandpa's Irish, so we have
a clan!) can be traced all the way back to 6th century? To add some
context to what that means, it would be almost another 1000 years
before French and English settlers explored North America, and
another 450 years after that to the birth of your mother. Fun fact
about Grandpa's people: they are known, almost from the clan's
earliest inception, to be highly educated people.
Back in the car I relaxed a bit, stopped fidgeting with my phone,
my purse, stopped glancing to the back seat. Soon we'd reach our
destination, drop Joshua, and be on our way.
More next week . . . Love Grandma
-4-
Sep 04
Dearest Lucas
What can I tell you, except this story gets stranger and stranger.
Or perhaps I should say that Joshua behaved creepier and creepier.
Let me try to explain.
We pulled into a parking space in Blue Ridge. It happened to be on
a hill, on a side street off Main. Main is the cutest little
mountain-town street with a train station and shops and restaurants
on either side of the road. It has a folksy-feel about it, a place you
might spend hours exploring. I expected to drop Joshua here and be on
our way, lickety-split.
But oh no! That did not happen. Grandpa turned off the engine and
jumped out of the SUV, followed by Joshua. They just left me sitting
there, all alone, while they took up a position on the slanted
sidewalk. Well, I darted out of the SUV and joined them, ready
to pull Grandpa back into the SUV. And you wouldn't believe what
I heard next.
“Since your friends don't appear to be around, yet,” said Grandpa.
“Let's get you some dinner.”
Dinner? Dinner! What, in the name of all that's good, could your
Grandpa be thinking.
Authored by a human without AI assistance.