Messenger Goblin 3
This new term made me raise my eyebrows in confusion
This new term made me raise my eyebrows in confusion. So the next thing I learned was a lot of new knowledge about how they are treated on their trips. Given that postcards are their means of transportation to the world, the conditions of travel depend on the emotional messages contained in the letters. No one wants to send a letter with false sentiment because it's like riding in a stinky, stuffy car that's bumpy and suffocating all the way. If it is a good relationship between family and friends of the letter, the treatment will naturally be much better. As for catching a warm love letter, it is really good luck to hit the jackpot. I stared at the thin card and said I didn't understand how this thing alone could provide the little messengers with an "imperial privilege". The little guy threw a blank stare: "You wouldn't understand if I told you." But soon it sighed again, saying that according to the descriptions of the seniors, there used to be quite a lot of opportunities for first class, but now the whole industry is in the doldrums, and good cabins are becoming less and less available, not to mention love letters, even ordinary cabins are not easy to get, and any job opportunities should be cherished. "So even after starving for so long, I still earned it." It said this with a cockeyed smile. I looked at the words on the postcard and tried to squeeze out a smile. But it seemed a little difficult. *** The next morning I woke up on time according to my long-established biological clock and was almost scared off my bed when I found the little messenger crouched on the bedside table, staring at me with burning eyes. His eyes were a little too bright in the dark. "Good morning!" It looks like this guy has completely recovered from the exhaustion of the previous trip and shouted with full vigor. And I could only change and wash with a black face. I do not know if it is my illusion, this guy's attitude as if ...... a little flattering? Sure enough, while we were guarding the desk together and eating cookies, it couldn't help itself and asked me periodically when I intended to write a reply letter. "Letters sent with anticipation are automatically brought with a return reservation." It pointed to the postcard on the desk and explained with a smirk. Ha? How dare this little guy think he has a return ticket? It's a shame I have to be cruel and shatter its unrealistic fantasies. "I don't like to write letters." I crunched the last cookie and replied dryly. Immediately his face changed, angry, but not the kind of anger that comes from being rejected, but the kind of anger that comes from being lied to. The little one waved his hand and pointed to the big dusty cardboard box on the stand in the corner: "You lied! You wrote back all the postcards in the cardboard box! I checked last night, every single one of them was marked with a reply!" Faced with such a straightforward revelation, I was embarrassed and didn't know how to answer, and finally I could only use the excuse that I was late for work and fled. When closing the door, I didn't even dare to look back at it. I'm afraid it will chase me again and ask the reason for not returning the letter. ***This whole day was not as routine as usual, because I interrupted the rhythm I was used to and spent a lot of time rehearsing a convincing reason. But by the end of the day, I was dismayed to find that the time spent was not only futile, but ridiculous. Making up a lie ten times more complicated to cover up a common fact is not even a good idea to think on your knees. Today I came back to the apartment from work at the same time as usual, and the process was the same: check the mailbox, unlock the door, change shoes, and tell myself welcome back. The only difference is that the little one is still there. Just like when I left this morning, he still has that stinky face like I owe him a lot of money. --It would have been more convincing if he hadn't eaten the fried rice I made. I couldn't stand to see the pathetic way he wanted to ask questions but had to keep it up, so I put the bowl down and told him why he wasn't answering his letter.
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Stephane Perez
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The Witch in the Kitchen 1
I have a little secret that no one knows about. Although my family is average, my job is ordinary, and my appearance is plain and unimpressive in every way, this secret is what makes me special. I'm a witch. Shhh, keep it to yourself, this secret only works in the kitchen of the apartment I live in. That's where all the secrets of my spells are hidden. Don't be surprised, in today's scientific society, every witch can master a limited number of spells, some because no one teaches them, some because they are too lazy to learn, and from one generation to the next, the subtle and complex spells have long been lost, and more are small tricks for living at home. For example, my mother will let the clothes wash themselves clean, while my aunt can make the wet clothes quickly become dry. But when the washing machine with drying function is on the market, the two of them immediately seem to have a lot of extra magic power, regret the grandmother straight sigh. I should have known that I should have taught the two girls to use magic cooking skills. Grandma is chagrined every time she talks about it. But the daughters have grown up, each married a human husband who can cook, have their own work, fun and social circle, naturally is no longer willing to bother to learn the grandmother's hard-won skills. So the burden of inheriting the family skills all fell on me. Unfortunately, I was probably not enlightened as a child, and no matter how hard my grandmother taught me, the limit of the spells I could use was just to cook a cup of instant noodles. But Grandma was not worried, always said I was still young, and when I grew up, I would naturally use the good. At that time, I was still a child, I did not understand, all the way to college graduation, in the city thousands of miles away from home to find a job, rented the apartment where I live now, is considered to be enlightened. According to the experience of the witches' profession, which has been passed down from generation to generation, many spells need a special place to be performed. The kitchen of the apartment is where my spell is. Look, the kitchen is full of all kinds of magic tools, large refrigerator, oven, gas stove, small dinner plates and rice cooker. Of course, all kinds of magic medicine is also essential, Li Ji's soy sauce, Zhang Ji's vinegar, and Liu Ji's bean paste, all neatly yarded on the small dining cabinet against the wall. Hmm? Some people want to ask why these so-called magic weapons and medicines are all discounted goods that I found from the online shopping mall? Hey, what law says we witches can't keep up with the times? Come on, it's not the backward era where you have to prepare all the raw materials by yourself anymore. In any case, I usually have nothing to do in this small kitchen to learn and practice, the grandmother handed down to me at the beginning of the thick book of magic recipes until rotten, is considered to have worked out a lot of spell casting tips to. At least every time I come home for the holidays, my mother will no longer go out to play mahjong and not come home for dinner as an excuse to refuse to try my dishes. But I always feel that something is still missing. Otherwise, how could even Dad's handmade dishes not even compare to those of an ordinary person. *** My grandmother has been dead for many years, and my mother is a fake witch who has no interest in spells, so no one can give me the right guidance. Fortunately, when my aunt visited me on a business trip, she politely reminded me that a man is still missing to engage in cooperation with this kind of spell like I am practicing. Although I suspected that this was a ploy by my aunt in collaboration with my parents to promote marriage, a little flipping through the history books of the witch world - which are usually titled "so-and-so fairy tales" to confuse ordinary people who don't know spells - I felt that my aunt was right. -I think my aunt has a point.
By Stephane Perez2 years ago in Fiction
Vocal Bonus Leaderboard: 05/08/2024
Welcome to the weekly update of the Leaderboard! We're thrilled to showcase Vocal's most discussed stories, popular picks, and rising stars. Let's dive into this past week's standout contributors and their remarkable achievements.
By Vocal Team4 days ago in Resources
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