. . . . . . . .

From Mary to Emma

September 6, 1916

The Silver Bird Inn

Emma,

I cannot guess at what you are implying, or rather, I will not guess. There is no foundation for your arguments, Bert is simply attractive and I am unused to being around men who are attractive.

You will not shake me,

Mary

. . . . . . . .

From Emma to Mary

September 6, 1916

Peter's Ridge

Mary,

What utter nonsense. My dear Mary, you are in love.

Yours,

Emma

. . . . . . . .

An excerpt from Mary's diary

September 7, 1916

I am in a state of utter confusion. Emma has vehemently stated that I have fallen in love with Bert! Bert, the chimney sweep. Not that I hold that against him! Oh dear, can you tell how scatterbrained I am? What I meant was "Bert, the human." An Ethereal cannot love a human! We live for thousands of years! And humans live for only a short one hundred. Even if I did love him, I would not set myself up for such pain as to live longer, much longer, than my loved one. To watch him die would rip out my heart and soul. I could not witness it and be sane after. I will not agree to years and years of suffering. And again, that would only be if I did love Bert, which I do not.

Do not mistake me, I do not love Herbert Alfred, the London chimney sweep.

. . . . . . . .

An excerpt from Bert's diary

September 10, 1916

I'd rather not waste precious paper, so I'll write little. I have finished the painting I agreed to give Mary in return for her spilling a bit more of her secret. I do believe that I already know what she is going to tell me, but I enjoy seeing her anyways. After all, I've never met a woman with such stunning black hair and blue eyes. She seems to be entering my thoughts more than usual, and I dearly hope that I don't tell her my own secret because I was distracted by her fine features. But no more on that, I'm wasting paper! I have decided to deliver the painting tomorrow, and I am nearly giddy at the thought of talking, bantering with her again. Oh, I wish I hadn't written in ink, or I would have erased all of that! But never mind, it'll have to do.

. . . . . . . .

From Mary to Emma

September 11, 1916

The Silver Bird Inn

Emma,

Today, Bert delivered his painting. It was a beautiful picture, painted on a small canvas. The painting was of a black umbrella, stuck upside down in a field of tall green grass. The oddest thing, though still painted beautifully, is the fact that the umbrella has a bright parrot head at the end, instead of a handle. When he handed me the painting, I stared at it for a moment, and then gave him a slightly confused look.

"What is this supposed to be, exactly?" I asked.

"It's art, Mary! It's the imagination! Nothing needs to be realistic in one's imagination." He gave me an annoyed look that was entirely feigned. I raised an eyebrow at Bert, and he smiled.

"As much as I enjoy brangling with you, you've promised me something which I'll not allow you to evade this time." He said.

"I would never-!" Bert stopped me with a finger on my lips, which made me blush. Bert smiled.

"You have in the past. So why don't you just tell me now. How exactly did you make my bike move by itself? Who are you really, Mary?" Bert removed his finger from my lips. He looked far too much like he already knew what I was going to say. I gave him a look that communicated my suspicion, but he gestured to me to continue with my secret. I shook my head and groaned.

"Fine." I took a deep breath, preparing myself. "You promise that you won't tell anyone?" I asked.

"Of course! Now, please get on with it!" I laughed, and then steeled myself to open my soul to him.

"You remember that I'm not from here?" He nodded. "Well, the people on my planet are very similar to the people that live here. In fact, we are very nearly the same. We live in the same kinds of houses, with the same jobs, however we do use different currency, which confused me to no end when I arrived here."

"What do you use?"

"Gold, silver, and copper bits. Paper money makes absolutely no sense to me, but that is neither here nor there. Anyway, we are the same except for two things. One, we live for thousands of years. A hundred of your years equates to about one for us."

"So, you live for 10,000 years?"

"You catch on quickly." I smiled at him, he didn't seem fazed by what I had told him. Oddly enough, he seemed perfectly content with knowing I would far outlive him. Curious, to be sure.

"What's the other difference?" Bert asked.

"Oh, well." I reined in my wandering thoughts. "The other thing will explain your bike. You see, the people from Ondera have visited Earth before, which is why we know so very much about it. Humans gave us a name, the Ethereals, based on the incredible things we were able to do and create. Each Ethereal child, when they reach the age of 1,500, or 15, in your years, chooses a gift, or power. We only get to choose once, and we keep that gift our entire lives. Well, not always our entire lives, but more on that later. So, the gift that I chose was to be able to move objects with my mind. It is called telekinesis. And that is how I moved your bike." I finished.

"Wow. That was quite a bit. I think I might need some lunch to help me process." Bert joked, but he still acted happily resigned to my new status as a laughably magical alien. I wondered at that.

"Bert, why do you act completely fine with all of this? It doesn't shock you at all." I waited for an answer, studying his face intently. Bert avoided eye contact and went silent.

"Bert?"

"You know, you never answered my question from last time." He abruptly changed the subject. I watched him for a moment, but I let it slide. I would have to think about my suspicions later.

"Which question?" I asked, and he looked relieved.

"How you got all your books. You said you brought them with you, but they're all books from Earth." Bert clarified.

"Well, I did tell you that Ethereals have visited Earth before, and we have quite a few that live in remote places. They send news, books, and other things to us." I answered.

"How do they send them?"

"Most of us have special carpet bags. If you put something in your bag, and then tell it who you want it sent to, it immediately shows up in that person's bag. The carpet bag also holds an unlimited amount of things, no matter their shape or size." Bert watched me for a moment.

"Do you have one?" He asked, and I nodded. "May I see it?"

"Why not?" I walked to my room and retrieved the bag. "Here." I said, opening it. Bert looked inside.

"It's empty!" He said.

"Why, of course! If you could see everything in there, other people could too, and they might steal it. It's much safer to keep it hidden." I answered.

"Well, how do you get anything out of it, then?"

"You think about what you're going to pull out, then you reach in, and it's there." I reached in and pulled out a chair, to prove myself. Bert got a mischievous smile on his face. He then reached in and pulled out a small stack of letters, tied with a blue ribbon. Bert looked at me with one eyebrow raised, his lips still forming a smile. I then realized whose letters those were. They were the ones from Bert. I quickly snatched them away, blushing furiously. Bert laughed uproariously. I stood up and put the chair I had pulled out back in the bag.

"I knew you liked me more than you let on!" He stood up behind me, and I turned around to meet him, still red-cheeked.

"Well, you don't seem to be entirely indifferent, yourself!" I said, still angry and embarrassed. Bert looked over me, his smile gone. His eyes were full of an intensity that had my heart thumping. His gaze moved to my lips, and I couldn't breathe. Then suddenly, Bert pulled me to him and kissed me. It was so unexpected that it took me a moment to comprehend what had happened, and then I closed my eyes and kissed him back. I relished the kiss until reality hit me with a force hard enough to bring me to tears. I pushed Bert away, and wiped my eyes.

"Mary?" Bert watched me, confused.

"We can't, Bert. A human and an Ethereal? It's just not done."

"Why not?"

"I would outlive you and it would tear me apart." I gasped at what I had just confessed, and then proceeded to push Bert out of the room, all the while ignoring his protests, until I had slammed the door on him.

Emma, I have fallen in love. I've fallen in love with a human, someone utterly out of reach, and there is no way to reverse it. Nothing will fix this, and I am horribly depressed. I dearly wish for your company, sister, but I know you cannot leave at this time.

Love,

Mary

. . . . . . . .