This picture was taken in my hometown of Olathe (oh-LAY-thuh) Kansas, part of the Kansas City metropolitan area. It is a piece of artwork at the City Hall. Rochelle Wisoff-Fields of the Friday Fictioneers (a.k.a. Cuzzin’ Shelley) and I live about twenty minutes from each other.
If you “like” my story, fine. BUT — I will go to your blog and READ your story if you read mine and leave a COMMENT. As Rochelle and I and others will tell you from experience, “likes” don’t make a blog grow, human engagement does. And we’re a fun bunch here at FF, so come on in! This story first appeared on May 28th, 2014. Yes, it’s a re-run.
Now, before we begin …
EDITOR’S NOTE: The following is a message picked up one night by a HAM radio operator named Kevin who originally hailed from Flanders. The language spoken, he told me, sounded something like a sort of “High Flemish” (if there were such a thing) and almost read like an electronic message in a bottle. “I felt very sorry for the woman transmitting,” he later told me. “She sounded so sad.” He copied it down in English, took it to the library and stuffed it in the front pages of a first edition Caldecott book titled Babes In The Woods.
Maybe he thought it would have made a great Forward …?
Anyway, here’s what the message said.
My explanation of what happened to us afterward will solve the mystery our home world has wondered about.
After we arrived, we escaped detection by our language being similar to that of a tribe called Flemings and clearing our pallor by eating a vegetable called the green bean. We had a benefactor and lived happy lives on Earth, not unhappy as some feared.
I’ve been alone since my brother’s untimely death and been chronicled many times in Earth legends. I’ve decided to die here on planet Earth.
“A doleful story?” No. I lived a life richer than I ever dreamed.