Pterodactyls, (p)terror, and (pt)nopes
The second episode of Letters to Georgia is here, fueled by day old coffee and impulsive Oreos purchase (which I regret, haven’t had them in yearssssss and they are not. good.) Per usual, the script and free-to-download coloring page is available below, and the podcast itself is available wherever you find your podcasts (as well as in the “Letters to Georgia” tab in the menu here!).
RACHEL
So, I am NO GOOD at this. Margot says it’s totally fine to mess up but like, I haven’t recorded a journal entry in… almost two weeks. In my defence, I’ve been tired and busy-- haven’t even been able to stay on top of calling Cooper every few days and Mom is breathing down my neck about calling her back asap to make plans for a visit.
No luck with the raccoons-maybe-opossum. I’ve set out live traps baited with plenty of peanut butter and some fruit slices but nothing’s gone for it, there’s still rummaging around and flickering lights. I’ve taken to wearing ear plugs and an eye mask to bed, it's gotten so irritating. Also the country is so quiet, I’m so used to the noises of Seattle every outdoor sound wakes me up- yesterday it sounded like there was a pack of coyotes right in the backyard, couldn’t even escape it with the ear plugs.
Long sips of tea.
Also no luck getting that new white paint for all the walls- Mom helped me pick out a nice warm off-white, “vanilla ice cream” or some other name like that. It’s nice and peaceful.
It’s not been nice and peaceful getting it here.
Ordered it into the local hardware store, they mix it, only to realize it’s the wrong shade, MASSIVELY wrong. A yellow. They offered the buckets for free but I just can’t look at any more yellow, it is the worst color and there are So Many in this house.
Anyways, put through another order, and I was supposed to pick it up a few days ago but I got a flat tire on my bike and then my car broke down a quarter of a mile up the road. If it weren’t a five gallon bucket of paint- which the clerk told me weighed over 50#- I would have made the hike with my old aluminum frame pack.
So that’s my biggest update. All moved in and stuck with yellow walls for who knows how long. Oh yeah- the car is a mystery, nothing seems to be wrong with it besides that fact that it won’t start at all. [FRUSTRATED SIGH AND GARBLED CURSES]
It’s okay! This is all okay! It’s extra time to work on my website and start freelancing again.
The only other bits of news is the blue mailbox. I’ve been taking a peek every few days, and I’ve gotten two new letters- both c/o ed, not directly sent to me of course- in the last five days. Haven’t opened them yet, but I might leave Cooper a fun voice memo to listen to when they get back from work. Hmmm.
Sound of ringtone and garbled voice mail recording.
Morning Cooper! Sorry I haven’t been super great at responding to texts- you wouldn’t believe the paint fiasco I’ve had, I’m so far behind reno schedule. Anyways, figured I could leave you some fun letters I’ve gotten! It's just two this week, not left on the same day either. No sign of anoth er person by the mail boxes beside the woman who delivers our mail. I’ve walked up and down the road checking the other mailboxes, even though they’re a ways away it is [heavily enunciated] so. rural. here Coop, I haven’t talked to said neighbors yet because half of them are too far back from the road and I can’t see their houses and ya know, maybe it’s the city mouse talking but that makes me uncomfortable and -- just--- [groans loudly] I won’t lie I’ve had a few times when I’ve wondered just exactly why I decided to move out here. Like, it’s just…. I don’t know. Funky coincidence. BUT, I’m not giving up yet.
Back to the letters! This first one is just a plain while office envelope, neat hand writing, but it looks like it’s been absolutely stuffed. “Care of RACHEL” scrawled in purple ink across the front,ohh-- eeew, kind of oily in places. It smells strongly of vanilla, and-- something fruity. Raspberries, maybe? No, that’s not right. [Big inhale, gets dreamy] It smells like those blackcap plants, on the hill behind your grandmother’s house,the ones we swore were the tastiest. We were more than willing to crawl through the grass and multiflor rose and box elder sprouts to get to them before they got swallowed up by sparrows. We’d venture out in the morning and wouldn’t reemerge until after lunch, scratched and covered in the juice. [Trails off, lost in memory] I can’t remember the last time I thought about that farm. [Long pause]
Right, right, I sure you don’t want to listen to dead air. [Paper tearing] Huh, it’s half an instruction manual for an ice cream maker. And when I say half I mean the top half- naturally. Someone tore it across the middle and decided it was worth putting in the mail. [Sounds of a book being flipped through]
Hold on a second. There’s a drawing in the corner of each page. I need both hands for this. [Phone gets set on something hard, a glass tinkles. There are ruffling pages. Again and again. Phone gets picked back up]
I promise to send you a video, but there’s a miniature animation in the top corner. Nothing fancy, just a stick figure. They loose a balloon, jump a couple of times, then turn into a bird and fly away. On the very last page there’s a larger drawing of that same stick person-bird thing flying a loop around the balloon in the sky. Awww, that’s kinda sweet. Maybe I’ll send this to you Coop, hang it up on your art wall. [Pause, papers are getting shuffled around, Rachel takes a few sips of tea]
This next one is in a manila envelope, folded in half and taped all to hell and back. They must have used half a roll of masking tape at least. Hold on, I need to find a pair of scissors for this. [Another pause, phone gets set down, there are bird calls]
Here we are. [Paper cutting and tearing] Anddddd, there. Let’s see, let’s see… It’s a stapled bunch of papers, and looks like some sort of professional letter, there’s space for addresses at the top, like an academic paper would have, but [distortion sound, Sabrina groans a little] -- this is so weird Coop, there’s addresses on the paper, I can see the words but when I try to actually read them they go all squirrelly and-- ouch, ow ow, nope. Whenever I try to read it I just can’t, it’s hurting my head, a stabbing, white hot thing right behind my eyes. I’ll send you some pictures of it later, too.
[Absent reading noises] I can read the rest of it at least. It’s started rather bruskly: Dr. Amin, I am writing you once again about the peculiar lunar experience dated 5 March 2017. You have Ignored my past writings but I must speak with you urgently about this matter.
Again, on the day of 5 March, 2017 I was just off a quiet trail in north central New Mexico on a star gazing trip. It was almost 2 am and I was taking a break to make some hot chocolate;the high desert gets below freezing still this time of year, especially at higher elevations where I was.
I do not drink or smoke, and was totally sober that night. Even with the exceptionally late hour I work nights so 2am is a common, comfortable hour for me. I was not sleep deprived, or dehydrated, or suffering from delusions or hypothermia.
There is nothing that can explain what I saw. It was perfectly clear, and bitterly cold. I had settled back into my folding chair, wrapped up in my sleeping back to warm up with the hot chocolate before going back to my telescope for one last view of Saturn before turning in for the night.
The moon was not where it should have been. It was a crescent moon that night- it should not have been visible, let alone… wink? At me.
the moon. Winked at me. Or closed or blinked or whatever a moon-that-should-not-be-there does when it sees you.
This. Is. Not. What. The. Moon. Should. Be. Doing. Dr. Amin. You need to take this seriously, I am not a hack, I am not a loony, I don’t have any mental health issues nor was I under any sort of influence. I have been posting on message boards but every thread gets deleted. The world needs to know what is going on! YOu cannot just sit behind your fancy computer screens and conveniently ignore whatever is out there!
This is my third, and final letter. If I do not hear from you before the end of the month I will be heading back out into the desert to figure this out on my own. I will report back with any findings.
Get bent, Benjamin Shiller.
[There is a shuffling as paper, RACHEL set the letter down and takes a few sips of tea]
Huh.
Huhhhhhhhhhh….
Nope! Nope nope nopenopenope. [Sounds of a chair being pushed, stuff picked up and a door opening and closing.] Weird mailbox is one thing weird moon is a whole other bag of fish that doesnt-even-make-sense. I don’t want to be outside with it. [Drawn out “ahhhhhafhoafihhodfihs” groan, tea cup clatters to the floor]
That’s pretty serious, Coop. I don’t know when the letter was sent, if it was ever received, or anything. Should I investigate? I won’t lie, I've had a hard time picking up consulting clients out here so I would have the time-- Hmm. I’m going to think about it. Call me back when you have the chance, let me know what you think. I don’t like the possibility that there’s something out there posing as the moon.
It’s getting late, I’m going to check the mailbox, then try to get some sleep. It’s been hard lately, every creak in this opossum-riddled house and scratch of branches outside is waking me up.
I miss my favorite housemate, bug.
[Fade out music starts]
SABRINA
Hello my lovely listeners this is SABRINA if you’re looking at our script (and Sabrina plus Willa if you’re a peeping Tom). A big heartfelt THANKS for tuning in to the second episode of “Letters to Georgia,” a bi-monthly podcast concerning the curious contents of a mischievous blue mailbox. If you are interested in updates follow us on Instagram @ STAR.ROOM.STUDIO, that’s @ STAR DOT ROOM DOT STUDIO-- our landing center for this podcast and other creative projects of mine. This episode’s script is available on the website- www.sabrinalucille.com, along with a free downloadable coloring page for you to have your artistic way with. My wiggly assistant, Willa and I are delighted you’re here with us, and we’re looking forward to getting to next-next week’s episode wherever you find your podcasts.
