I’d shared with Gavyn, but that was
gone forever.
“Aurora!” My mom’s voice floated through my
half open door. “You have a piece of mail.” I walked into the
dining room, where she had left the large ivory envelope with a red
flap on the table. My name and my mom’s address were written in
calligraphy. I picked it up and flipped over the envelope a couple
times, feeling the heavy weight of the fancy paper. There was no
return address. It was postmarked from Fairbanks, Alaska.
“Quit playing with it and open it,” she
called from the kitchen.
And so I did. I read the note twice,
struggling to understand the words neatly handwritten on the plain
ivory paper inside.
Aurora,
We have been watching your family bloodline
for several generations. Somehow we missed you. For that, I am
sorry. We were able to gain control over the situation with the
media this time. However, you are still in grave danger.
There are others like you. You are not
alone.
We will be making contact with you
shortly.
Chapter 11
I must have dropped the letter, because it
was gracefully spiraling toward the floor.
My mom paused her sweeping. “Are you okay? Is
it something bad?”
I didn’t answer. Was it a joke? An unknown
relative?
She stooped down to pick it up, reading as
she stood. “Is this real?” She tossed the letter on the table,
strode over to the door and locked the deadbolt. She methodically
went through every window in the house, checking to make sure they
were latched. I heard the click of her gun safe from the
bedroom.
“Mom! Just chill. It’s not a threatening
letter. And it was sent from Alaska, not here.”
“I know, but it’s a little strange, and it’s
been an eventful week. I’m just taking some precautions.” She came
back into the dining room. We both sat on the table with the letter
between us. We stared at it, as if it would reveal its secrets.
Finally, she spoke. “Okay, there are two
basic options as I see it. Let’s start with the simplest
explanation first. It’s a joke. Someone who saw the news stories is
trying to mess with you. That’s the most likely scenario.”
I shook my head in disagreement. “From
Alaska? Someone in freaking Alaska saw the news last week, composed
this creepy little letter, found out your home address, and dropped
it in the mail four days ago, exactly when the media storm died
down?”
She leaned back in her chair and crossed her
arms. “You’re right. This letter was mailed the same time Gavyn and
the family released their statements. The media interest
evaporated. I didn’t realize the timeline coincided. But it still
could just be a coincidence.”
“What’s your second scenario?” I said.
“It’s legit. I’ve always wondered if there
are more people like you out there. The letter mentioned bloodline,
and your great grandmother was institutionalized for delusions.
Maybe she said she could fly.” She picked up the letter again. “I
wonder if there would be some sort of support group or something. I
guess that could make sense.”
“I’m not an alcoholic. I don’t need a support
group. Do you really think there’s an anonymous secret support
group for the gravity challenged in Fairbanks, Alaska?”
“Well, when you say it like that, I guess it
does sound surreal.” Her face became more serious. “Let’s face it
though, your life is pretty surreal. Stranger things have
happened.”
I took the letter back and read the words one
more time. “The mysterious author said they will make contact with
me soon. Let’s just keep our guard up, and see what happens. If no
one contacts me, then we know it’s a joke. If someone contacts me,
we’ll go from there.” I smiled at her. “Try not to shoot anyone,
okay?”
“Fine. I’ll try to restrain myself. For now.”
I couldn’t tell if she was joking or not.
I was awake in bed for several hours watching
the occasional light flash across the ceiling from passing cars. I
thought about the
gone forever.
“Aurora!” My mom’s voice floated through my
half open door. “You have a piece of mail.” I walked into the
dining room, where she had left the large ivory envelope with a red
flap on the table. My name and my mom’s address were written in
calligraphy. I picked it up and flipped over the envelope a couple
times, feeling the heavy weight of the fancy paper. There was no
return address. It was postmarked from Fairbanks, Alaska.
“Quit playing with it and open it,” she
called from the kitchen.
And so I did. I read the note twice,
struggling to understand the words neatly handwritten on the plain
ivory paper inside.
Aurora,
We have been watching your family bloodline
for several generations. Somehow we missed you. For that, I am
sorry. We were able to gain control over the situation with the
media this time. However, you are still in grave danger.
There are others like you. You are not
alone.
We will be making contact with you
shortly.
Chapter 11
I must have dropped the letter, because it
was gracefully spiraling toward the floor.
My mom paused her sweeping. “Are you okay? Is
it something bad?”
I didn’t answer. Was it a joke? An unknown
relative?
She stooped down to pick it up, reading as
she stood. “Is this real?” She tossed the letter on the table,
strode over to the door and locked the deadbolt. She methodically
went through every window in the house, checking to make sure they
were latched. I heard the click of her gun safe from the
bedroom.
“Mom! Just chill. It’s not a threatening
letter. And it was sent from Alaska, not here.”
“I know, but it’s a little strange, and it’s
been an eventful week. I’m just taking some precautions.” She came
back into the dining room. We both sat on the table with the letter
between us. We stared at it, as if it would reveal its secrets.
Finally, she spoke. “Okay, there are two
basic options as I see it. Let’s start with the simplest
explanation first. It’s a joke. Someone who saw the news stories is
trying to mess with you. That’s the most likely scenario.”
I shook my head in disagreement. “From
Alaska? Someone in freaking Alaska saw the news last week, composed
this creepy little letter, found out your home address, and dropped
it in the mail four days ago, exactly when the media storm died
down?”
She leaned back in her chair and crossed her
arms. “You’re right. This letter was mailed the same time Gavyn and
the family released their statements. The media interest
evaporated. I didn’t realize the timeline coincided. But it still
could just be a coincidence.”
“What’s your second scenario?” I said.
“It’s legit. I’ve always wondered if there
are more people like you out there. The letter mentioned bloodline,
and your great grandmother was institutionalized for delusions.
Maybe she said she could fly.” She picked up the letter again. “I
wonder if there would be some sort of support group or something. I
guess that could make sense.”
“I’m not an alcoholic. I don’t need a support
group. Do you really think there’s an anonymous secret support
group for the gravity challenged in Fairbanks, Alaska?”
“Well, when you say it like that, I guess it
does sound surreal.” Her face became more serious. “Let’s face it
though, your life is pretty surreal. Stranger things have
happened.”
I took the letter back and read the words one
more time. “The mysterious author said they will make contact with
me soon. Let’s just keep our guard up, and see what happens. If no
one contacts me, then we know it’s a joke. If someone contacts me,
we’ll go from there.” I smiled at her. “Try not to shoot anyone,
okay?”
“Fine. I’ll try to restrain myself. For now.”
I couldn’t tell if she was joking or not.
I was awake in bed for several hours watching
the occasional light flash across the ceiling from passing cars. I
thought about the
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