Back From The Future Bloghop

(Dear Readers:  Please suspend disbelief now…)

You're up before dawn on a Saturday when the doorbell rings. You haven't brewed your coffee so you wonder if you imagined the sound. Plonking the half-filled carafe in the sink, you go to the front door and cautiously swing it open. No one there. As you cast your eyes to the ground, you see a parcel addressed to you ... from you.
You scoop it up and haul it inside, sensing something legitimate despite the extreme oddness of the situation. Carefully, you pry it open. Inside is a shoebox -- sent from ten years in the future -- and it's filled with items you have sent yourself.

What's in it?

 I pried open the lid of the box to find two envelopes and a very nicely knitted crème slouch hat:  The first letter was plain, white simple stationary with “Jill” written on the front and “Read This First” scrawled across it in what I recognized as my own loopy script.  The other envelope was a rather dusty and dirty business sized affair, with a cancelled stamp and other markings signifying it had made its rounds through the mail. It was addressed to me. 

Curious, I opened the envelope marked “Read this First!” and began to read.  It said:

Dear Jill.

I found this letter stuck behind the fridge and thought it looked important.  Being the superstitious type, I thought perhaps its contents might change our future life so with great effort I sent it to you through time and space.  I’ll not tell you anything I know about your/our future lest you screw it all up except this:  Under no circumstance should you get that pixie hair cut you are considering!  And since you never take anyone’s advice, I’ve sent along the hat.

Take good care.  Your family is well.

You/ Me

I regarded the other letter.  The return address was smudged and faded, though I could just make out the words “New York”.  It was from February 26, 2013.  What news could it hold?  Would it really change my life?  I opened it and read.

Dear Ms. Haugh,
Thank you for your recent query regarding representation, which we have now had an opportunity to consider.  Unfortunately, I don’t think our agency is going to be a right fit for your manuscript.  Many thanks and good luck in your endeavor.

Betista Readmore
Bigdeal Literary Agency

I picked up the phone and made a three o’clock appointment for a haircut.  I brought the hat—just in case.

~Just Jill

 

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