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The late afternoon sunlight spilled through Wirt’s blinds and onto his desk, causing the thrifted walnut to glow an ember-like red. Wirt rested his head in his hand, flicking his pencil to the top of the desk and watching it roll back down again as the song that had been stuck in his head for the past three days played in the background.
Let her know that the family she knew keeps her locket and keys.
Tell her everything is fine and she's missed like the winds miss the trees.
Wirt sighed as his thoughts turned back to Beatrice for the umpteenth time and his gaze turned to the high school graduation announcement resting on the desk.
It was dumb. He knew she couldn't come. She was… dead? Lost? Something else entirely? Regardless, she wasn’t here and there was no address he could send the postcard to. The only reason he was even alive to graduate high school in the first place, and he couldn't even tell her thank you.
((The person he wanted there above all others and no way to tell her so))
Wirt jumped as his door slammed open followed by a hasty, “Sorry!” from Greg as his younger brother came bounding in.
“Heya Wirt. Whatcha doing?”
“Oh, uh. Just thinking, Greg.”
“About what?”
Greg hopped onto his bed, Jason Funderburker sitting contentedly under his arm.
“I don’t know. Just, thinking about Beatrice.”
“Oh.” Greg's eyes landed on the invitation. “Do you want her to come to graduation?”
“I mean, yeah, but she can’t. She lives in the Unknown, Greg.”
“Well you don’t know if you don’t ask!”
Wirt couldn't help but scoff. That was only the problem he had been mulling over for the past week.
“And how are we supposed to do that? We don't exactly know how to reach her.”
“Well…” His younger brother chewed the inside of his lip before popping up. “Oh! What if we have someone who does know how to get there deliver it for us.”
The music in the background suddenly hit Wirt crystal clearly.
Only messengers can tell her how I’m missing her tonight.
“...Maybe you're right, Greg.”
“Of course I'm right! Now let's get writing!”
A bit confused, but more than used to going along with his brother’s ideas at this point, Wirt pulled out paper and pencils (colored, at Greg’s request), and scooted over to allow his brother to share the chair with him. “I thought we already had the letter,” Wirt said and held up the invite.
“Come on, Wirt. We’re going to send a letter to Beatrice and you don't want to say anything else? That's boring!”
“I, well— Fine. You got me there.”
Together the two boys took turns writing sentences before Wirt got sick of it and handed Greg his own piece of paper.
“So,” Wirt said, “who do you think we should get to deliver the letter?”
Greg hummed thoughtfully as he chewed on the end of his pencil. “Maybe a bluebird can come and get it? I'm sure Beatrice had bluebird friends!”
“She threw a rock at one. I doubt they're on very friendly terms.”
“Oh. Well then maybe… a magical tiger?”
“We never met one of those.”
“Drat.”
After a little more thinking, Greg hopped to his feet. “Oh! Oh! The Queen of Cloud City! She could definitely deliver it.”
Wirt blinked, brow furrowed. “Who?”
“The Queen of Cloud City! When we took that nap in the snow, I beat up this cloud guy and there was a parade and she told me that you could—” He paused. “Never mind all that! Let's write that letter!”
Wirt glanced down at what he already had and cringed.
Dear Beatrice,
How are you?
Wait, that's probably a dumb way to start this letter.
And now you're probably laughing at me.
Yikes. Should he just start over? No. Who knows, she might need the laugh. He continued,
I’m graduating high school. Do you know what high school is? I’m not entirely sure how the education system works in the 1800s. Or the Unknown. Besides teaching animals to play instruments, that is.
What I’m trying to say is thanks. Thanks for getting us home. We literally wouldn’t be here without you. I wouldn’t be graduating or going to college or dating Sara (I’m dating Sara by the way, clarinet and poetry does work ha), and Greg wouldn’t be… growing up.
So thanks. I hope you’re doing well. We miss you.
Wirt
He finished it off by doodling some vines around the corners while Greg put the finishing touches on his.
“Done! Are you done? I wanna see, I wanna see!”
“Calm down, Greg. Here let's switch.”
Greg’s letter was mostly a fun drawing of the three of them, plus Jason Funderburker, hanging out in the woods, along with a short paragraph on the back telling her about taking Jason to show and tell and how he wished she could come visit.
“Wirt! You forgot the most important part!”
“What?” Wirt grabbed his letter back. “No I didn't.”
“Yes you did! Right there, at the end!”
“Yeah, I signed it. What's wrong with that?”
Greg sighed; honestly, his older brother should know these things by now. “You have to sign it “love”. Love, Wirt.”
“I—” A flush crept up Wirt’s cheeks. “I'm not signing it “love”, Greg.”
“But why not? You love Beatrice, don't you? She's our friend.”
“I mean.” He sighed. “Yeah, you have a point.”
After adding the “love”, he found an envelope buried in his desk and they stuffed their letters, plus the graduation announcement inside. Greg watched from his seat, bouncing with joy, as Wirt got out his wax seal kit he had gotten for his last birthday. With Wirt’s help, Greg for to press in the stamp, sealing it with a custom made pilgrim hat and teapot.
Just in time too, as there came a knock on the door.
Their mom peeked her head in the room. “Boys, bedtime.”
“Coming, Mom.” Wirt turned back to Greg as he put the letter writing stuff away. “We’ll take the letter to the cemetery tomorrow, okay? We can leave it on the wall and, who knows, maybe somebody will come pick it up.”
“Yeah! I like that. That's a good idea.”
“Thanks. I have those sometimes.”
“Yeah, but I have them more.”
“Right, like one of Beatrice’s bluebird enemies coming to get the— hey!”
Soon the room was filled with the sound of gentle scuffling as Wirt got hit in the face with a pillow.
It would be a while before they actually got to bed.
:::
The moon sat high in the sky, casting its silver light like rainfall on everything it touched. Jason Funderburker croaked quietly in delight; he would have to remember that line for the song he was writing.
But right now he was on a mission. Hopping as quietly as he could, he entered Wirt’s room. The letter to Beatrice sat on the desk, practically glowing in the milky light. With a hop, skip, and a jump, he had the letter in his mouth and was out the window headed towards the Unknown.
Jason felt like he was flying rather than hopping as he leapt through the streets, towards the cemetery, and over the wall. No trains were passing tonight and the night was sweet and silent as he brushed through the grass and leapt into the pond with a quiet plop.
The water slipped past him like silk as he swam deeper, navigating the currents as they appeared and disappeared until… there.
He swam to the surface and was pleased to see the old grist mill right where he thought it would be. The sun was just beginning to rise, dissipating the mist that still clung close to the ground. Swimming a little farther downstream, he found a small clearing next to the river. Bluebirds sang somewhere high in the trees, and beneath them on a swing, sat a red-headed girl in a blue dress staring off into the mist.
Jason hopped up onto the bank and let out a polite ribbit. The girl startled from her reverie, her content turning to confusion as she spotted the frog in front of her.
For a moment, they just stared at each other before she sighed.
“What are the chances you're just a normal frog?”
“Raur.”
“So you're Wirt and Greg’s frog?”
He ribbitted and dropped the letter, inexplicably dry, at her feet.
“What are you…?” Beatrice leaned down to pick up the letter and turned it over in her hands. An incredulous smile began to bloom on her face and only got bigger as she tore the letter open and began to read. She glanced up. “So your name is Jason Funderburker now?”
Jason stood and brushed himself off before bowing.
She rolled her eyes, but was smiling. “I’m sure that doesn’t get confusing at all.” She leaned to the side, glancing back at the house and tapping the letter nervously against her hand. “Would you mind taking something back for me?”
:::
Dear Wirt and Greg,
You can’t imagine how surprised I was to get your letter.
Jason hopped as fast as he could, praying he could make it home before the boys woke up.
I can only hope you’ll be more surprised to get one back.
The world felt as if it was holding its breath as the early dawn light began to warm it from a pearly opalescence to a blushing rose.
I’m doing well. It’s nice having my family back, even if they do still drive me crazy sometimes. Congratulations on graduating high school — and dating Sara! That was almost more shocking than getting your letter.
I’m kidding. I’m really happy for you.
Birdsong filled the air as Jason scrambled over the fence and leapt through Wirt’s bedroom window, depositing the letter on the desk just as the older boy began to stir.
I’m so glad you and Greg made it home safely.
Stay in touch, alright?
Wirt blinked against the early morning light. He didn’t normally wake up this early… Had something woken him? He rolled over and his gaze landed on the letter sitting on the desk. Right. He was looking forward to visiting the cemetery with Greg later today.
Except…
That wasn’t the letter they had written.
Love, Beatrice
“Wh— Greg! Greg!” Wirt fought against his blankets, basically tripping out of bed in his haste. “Beatrice wrote back!”
A thud came from his brother’s room followed by the pat pat pat of running feet. A moment later, he burst in, a pleased looking frog held tight in his grip.
“What?! How did she get the letter? Did you go without me?”
“Wh— no, of course not, Greg. It just showed up. Maybe… maybe it got delivered during the night?”
Greg shook his head, depositing Jason Funderburker on the bed as he ran to the desk and snatched the envelope off of it. “Who cares! Let’s see what she said!”
Jason let out a contented ribbit as he watched the two boys tear the letter open and began to read, looking happier and lighter than they had since they had first returned.
He had a feeling he would be playing messenger a lot in the near future — and hopefully, for a long time to come.
FIN