The random words were "elucidate" and "incogitant." The resulting seed idea was, "A non-sentient process by which thoughts are clarified." Thus, post office imps. Obviously.
I never know what I'm writing until I've read it. That's a truth I've been forced to acknowledge lately. When I don't know what to write, when the blank page stretches like a desert and seems just as daunting to cross, I have to remind myself of that truth and its implication that not knowing what to write is no excuse not to start writing. So my first drafts often begin with those very words, "I don't know what to write, but I'm going to start writing anyway. Here's what I'm trying to write." And then the story starts to trickle out in the form of tangible words. Awkward words. Stupid words. The worst words anyone wrote ever. But they're words I have to read before I can know what it is I'm trying to say.
And so it is with the people in this fictionette. In their country, the post office will not deliver a lie. So they insist that contracts, paychecks, and promises go by post, that only the truth arrive. Anyone insisting on (for example) phone texts or online commerce might as well admit they want to deceive or short-change you. Heck, you might be trying to deceive yourself, and you might not even know it. Sometimes the only way to be sure of what it is you really believe is to put your best guess in a letter and mail it to yourself.
Cover art incorporates public domain images sourced from Pixabay and Wikimedia Commons.
YOU ARE READING
The Proof is in the Post
Short StoryNo one believes actual tiny sentient demons are infiltrating the post and editing letters for brutal honesty. It's just natural processes at work.
