Shadows of another world

Dear sir or madam,

I am writing to inform you of a mysterious stranger appearing in our neighborhood. This individual has been seen lurking about shadowy spaces and hiding among the shrubbery. At first I thought it was strange that a person would do this. Why would they need to hide? What was it they were hiding from? I began to follow them as best I could without being seen. This was not an easy feat as they seemed especially cautious and sensitive to the slightest sound. I had to keep my distance.

It began around five in the afternoon. I quickly saw the form's shadow pull away from the bushes and overgrowth. That was easy enough to locate. When I glanced to the rows of shrubbery, there was nothing but slightly overgrown hedges. I listened. The soft crunch of steps grabbed my attention and I stepped towards the sound. The sun cast my shadow, long against the grass and dry patches of earth. Slowly, quietly I followed the steps. The undergrowth of plants shimmered with sunlight and I felt if I looked hard enough, a person's form could emerge. What was it? The stranger kept moving away, one moment my eyes darted to the sidewalk and I thought, are they going to push through the plants and run across the paved cement? But it was a trick. As my eyes roved for a likely path, the stranger backed up and retraced their steps, leaving the hedge and rushed towards the grove of trees that made up a last stand of woods. By the time my senses had processed this deception, I turned my head only to feel as though something had slipped past me, like a sheet caressing your arms on a laundry line, light and gentle, and elusive. I tried to see where the stranger had gone. The little woods had embraced this mysterious form as a communicant of nature and one of that ancient world where times knew that gods existed and people were not just the only sentienent beings. I pondered over this and thought, should I still follow? Should I gather my wits and continue into the unknown and pursue, like Aceton in his accidental pursuit of Jupiter? Or should I let that stranger go? And should I bless them with quiet admiration for their privilege in being so embraced by times of old? I stood there dumbfounded in action and inaction.

Moments passed and the sun slowly lowered further. Dusk had arrived and I heard the call of mothers and parents, calling young ones to dinner. There were no notes of worry or fear of the other. Should I alert them of this stranger? Man or beast or creature from the other world, how could I tell? Maybe it was all a dream, a longing for something that our world could never and had never produced but only in song and story? I waited a bit longer, my eyes adjusting to the darkness.

In the distance, for it always will be, a cry of some bird or animal called out. Softly like a good bye to a friend, it called out. The navy blue darkness settled and just as I was about to leave and head for home, the shadows of a family of coyotes dashed across the foreground of the woods. They moved like liquid water, blue and gray and fast. I breathed in quick and held it so as not to break the spell. Yes, were these the mysterious strangers? I breathed out as the last one flew past and disappeared into the darkness. In that moment, I blessed the stranger and bid them well as I left them to their world.

Signed, Leon

The shadowy fur covered form bent down and picked up the crumpled yellowed pages. Smoothing out the wrinkled pages, the leathered fingers paused over the words, Dear sir or madam. In the blue darkness, this was as far as he could make out the words. Glancing at the gray cloud filled sky, there was no moon to light his way tonight. He walked quickly through the woods, nearly floating over the ground with his great strength. Slowing down, he stopped at a hilly spot and pushed through the heavy branches, leaves and brush. Inside, he lit a candle, placed it on a wooden table, sat on a wooden stump and began to read. He smiled to himself and whistling softly, called to his friends. Within moments, they appeared. They sat by his feet, their furry heads tilted listening to him as he whispered they were safe, no need to fear, for now. The manlike being stroked their heads and sent the coyotes on their way. He sat up and placed an old teapot on an even older wood burner. He placed some bits of sticks and dried moss inside and hitting two stones together, sparks jumped onto the dry material. Soon a warm glow filled the space and he closed the little wood burner door. A stream of white smoke bubbled up through a pipe out the top of his hut. He turned and looked out through the dark branches and wondered, would this be the time when things changed. He picked up a worn cup and poured some hot water into it. Dried mint hung in a bunch and he pulled some leaves and let them seep in the water. He pondered this while smoothing his bearded face. His eyes, though small and dark glimmered in the golden candle light. Above him, some mice squeaked and he nodded. Yes, he told them, you can never tell. They watched him closely as he leant over and pulled out a metal box. They scampered down and sat on the edge of the table as he pulled out several crackers. They nibbled happily and then, climbed up onto his fur covered shoulder and curled up for a nap. He smiled. Glancing back at the pages, he gently smoothed them again. Perhaps, he thought, perhaps.