Friday, February 5, 2021 Martin Chronicles Part 1

Dear Bucky,
I started a new job today. Yes, congratulate me – it only took me four months to find another job after being downsized from the last one. I had to sign all sorts of non-disclosure stuff for this one, so now I can’t tell you much about what I do. There are whole floors in this place that are strictly verboten. Something seems a little off – the other employees are rather standoffish – not the kind to gather around the water cooler for office gossip. I’ve had my antennae out to detect whether or not anyone has a sense of humor, but this is a deadly serious conglomeration of humanity. My talents are wasted here.

Hope all is well with you and Suzanne. Tickle little Bucky Jr. for me.
Martin

Dear Bucky,
I’ve been on the job here for a few months now. Wish I could tell you more about what I do. It seems very commonplace to me, so I don’t understand all the secrecy. At times I feel sort of puffed up with a sense of importance, and at others times I realize the absurdity of it all and half expect someone to slap their knee jovially and tell me I’ve been the butt of a complicated prank. Sigh…no one at this place is jovial. I can’t tell you the name of the company, but privately, I call it “Hotel California,” or just HC.

Something a little odd happened the other day. I think I can tell you without divulging any of their precious secrets. I was filing something (ack – now you know that they use paper files – old school, for sure) and I came across an intriguing file with the heading “Interesting Ideas.” Of course we’ve been warned not to open files that aren’t part of our job and such is the culture of this place that I stood there for a moment with the file in my hand wondering if opening it would trip some silent alarm and I’d be carried away and disposed of in the night. The “charming” atmosphere here tends to cultivate paranoia even in rational people (meaning, me). I looked around – no one was near. I opened it. The file contained one piece of paper on which was typed the words “Long have I waited for someone to open this file. You will be contacted.” I almost laughed out loud – maybe someone here DOES have a sense of humor! Still, I went back to my desk and checked (surreptitiously) to see if anyone was looking at me meaningfully. Nothing happened. Nobody winked or tapped the side of their nose. There were no mysterious emails. Yup, it had to have been a joke. Wish I knew who it was so I could give silent kudos to them. I make good money at HC, but miss the comradery of the co-workers at my old job.

Hey Bucky, I know it’s a bit of a drive, but I’d sure appreciate a visit if you can tear yourself away from the Missus and the Progeny. As much as we fought while growing up, I kind of miss having my big brother around to torment me. If the itch to torment strikes you, I’m available.

Tell Suzanne she could do better. Ha ha – kidding. Mostly. Thanks for the photo of Bucky Jr. -he’s looking quite manly for an 8-month-old child. Hey, can I call him BJ? It could be sort of an Uncle Martin nickname that only I get to use.
Martin

Dear Bucky,
Sorry to have alarmed you with all the cloak and dagger stuff from the last email. No, I don’t think you’ll have to start dredging the river for me if you don’t hear from me for awhile (but it’s nice to think that you would – that’s what family is for, right?).

But I do have an update on the situation at HC. You’ll never believe this, but I have now been “contacted!”

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Welcome to Fiction Friday here at the LBMOD blog. I wanted to give you an example of an epistolary story. I’d love some feedback, so here are a few questions:
1. Do you want to know what happens next?
2. Does Martin sound too girly? I’m not sure if I should tackle writing from a man’s point of view. I changed it to Marcia at one point, but found I was already attached to Martin. What to do?
3. I decided, reluctantly, to make it clear that this was an email exchange, since this probably takes place more or less in our current time. But if I go back in time, these will be real letters. Does it even matter?

I’m not sure which of my kids did this illustration, but it was either Ruth or Sam for sure. I thought it fit the general mood of the post – funny, but vaguely unsettling. 😆

I’ll probably delete this post in the morning, but not until I’ve given you the impression that you can check into my blog anytime you want, but you can never leave.