Julia, My Daughter

An ongoing series of letters written between a man and his young daughter, stretching across the barrier between worlds.

[juliamydaughter]

Entry 3: Johan Meier to Julia

Dear Julia,

You have no idea how happy I am when I hear from you. I’m glad to know you like your teacher, and that you’re having fun! I miss you, too.

I’ve left the village I was staying in, and am now traveling to the capital. Shadowsea, it’s called. Even though you wouldn’t think it’s very big, it’s a city compared to other places in Anabru. Lots of buildings and even more people. My family- your grandmother and your aunts and uncles- live there too, and I can’t wait to see them. It’s been a year! They know about you and Mami, and every time I visit they send their love. 

There isn’t much to say tonight, but I wanted to tell you how everything was tonight. I’m, yes, riding a horse, but you wouldn’t like it very much. We don’t have very good saddles like you do at the stables, and it hurts at the end of the day! 

Good night, Julia. I love you.

Papi

[juliamydaughter]

Entry 2: Julia Meier, to her Papi

Papi, I know what precocious means. Just because I had to look at your letter to spell it doesn’t make me stupid.

School is good. I’m here now. My teacher, Herr Schwartz, is helping me write this. (he doesn’t know where you are, though!) He’s a boy teacher! I’ve never had a boy teacher before, but he’s fun. We got to go outside today and play.

I think Mami misses you. She’s been sad all day, and when I asked her what was wrong, she said “Nothing. But Papi better come back soon.” Are you going to come back soon? I miss you already.

I drew a wyrm today, but it was on a different piece of paper so I can’t send it to you. Herr Schwartz said that it looks scary, but I don’t think so. I don’t think I’d be scared of one, if I met one.

What are you doing on this trip? Can I come with you next time? If I’m precocious, does that mean that I’m not a child?

I miss you so, so, so much.

Love, Julia

[juliamydaughter]

Entry 1: Johan Meier, to his daughter Julia, aged 8

Dear Julia,

Mami says I’m telling you tales, and that- when I insist on their truth- that I’m a liar. I’m not. You know this, of course, that all of the stories I tell you are true. I make nothing up, I swear this.

Perhaps she’s right, and you are too young. Perhaps I shouldn’t be telling you this.

No. No, you aren’t. I was your age when I started training, and younger when I was told of the Mainland. Of the world you are in right now. But I hope, with every bit of me that can hope that you will not be forced into this as I was. Everything I do now is to give you choices, and a safe life should you choose to take it.

You’re precocious, I know- that means that you’re smart for your age- but I don’t know if you’ll understand what all of this means until you’re older. I hope I’ll be around to help you when you do.

I am in Anabru right now, near the town where I grew up. Wyrms live here, remember? There’s one in the fields, I think, and I can hear it grumbling and groaning all the way over here. They’re great, scaly creatures, long with short limbs and wings that should not work as well as they do. They aren’t creatures to fear, though one must still be careful around them. You wouldn’t do well to make them angry. Saints, I wish I could draw so you might be able to see one without having to come over here. This is no place for a child.

I couldn’t tell you this morning, before I left, but I will tell you know: anything you write in here, I will see. Anything I write in my copy, you will see. I will be gone longer and longer now, and I figured we might be able to communicate this way. Don’t tell Mami, or anyone else, but write to me. How was your first day of school?

Love, Papi