A Collection of Short Fantasy Stories 1
1. “The Time-Space Mailbox”
While browsing a flea market along the Seine, a stall selling wall clocks caught my interest. The owner was a gray-haired old man. He was reclining in a high-backed armchair, absorbed in reading a thread-bound book. The cover of the book was worn and peeling, and it appeared to be an ancient volume. The old man did not call out to customers. Each item had a tag attached to it, indicating the year it was made and its place of origin.
As I was examining a red-copper wall clock, the old man put down his book and looked at me. In English, he said, “Young man, if I am not mistaken, you are a novelist in your country.”
I was taken aback and asked him, “Sir, how did you know what I do for a living?”
The old man smiled mysteriously. He stood up and tapped his forehead with his index finger. “I saw you a few days ago, busy signing books for readers at a book-signing event.”
I thought to myself, “Could this old man have some kind of clairvoyance?”
“None of these wall clocks are suitable for you.” The old man pointed to a classical bronze mailbox beside him. It was about large enough for one person to wrap their arms around. “This mailbox is destined to be yours. It will help make your wishes come true and fulfill your ambitions.”
“It can fulfill my ambitions?” I repeated the words skeptically.
The old man came closer to me and asked in a low voice, “Ya, don’t you want to become a film director and bring the stories you have written to the screen?”
“Yes... When I first graduated from school, I did think that way. But my novels have sold only so-so. Over the years, my limited royalty income has barely been enough to cover the basic living expenses of a family of five. How could I possibly continue dreaming such unrealistic dreams?”
The old man placed one hand on my shoulder and said, “I know that you have been living a difficult life. But your achievements should not be limited to what you have now. That is why I have decided to show you a way forward.”
I was so moved that my eyes reddened. “Sir, I’ll take your advice.”
“Take this mailbox home and hang it by the window of your study. From now on, whenever you finish writing a story outline for a novel, put it into an envelope and drop it into the mailbox. One week later, a reply will be delivered to the mailbox.”
“You mean there will be some expert who will guide me in my novel writing?”
“Exactly. Before long, you will become famous and become a bestselling author. By then, there will naturally be investors who appreciate your work and will approach you about making movies. You can ask them to let you adapt your own work into a screenplay and direct the film yourself, thereby fulfilling your ambition of becoming a film director.”
“Then, sir, how many euros should I pay you for this mailbox?”
“Just one hundred euros. Once you have achieved your dream and become a famous director, you must bring it back here and return it to me.”
I took my wallet from my shirt pocket and pulled out the only one-hundred-euro bill I had. I respectfully handed it to the old man. He accepted the bill and gave me a ten-euro note in change.
“Keep this for lunch later. I know that is the only one-hundred-euro bill you have.”
The old man gave me a large leather bag. “This cowhide bag will make it easier for you to carry the mailbox to the airport and check it in.”
I slung the large bag over my shoulder. The old man smiled and waved goodbye to me.
When I arrived back at Taoyuan International Airport, my wife drove over to pick me up. When she saw the large cowhide bag on my luggage cart, she pointed at it.
“What’s in there?”
“A bronze mailbox. I bought it at a flea market along the Seine. Originally, I was planning to buy an old wall clock.”
“How much did you spend?”
“Ninety euros, plus sixty euros for shipping.”
“Oh, you! You never seem to feel any pain when you spend money...” My wife began to nag me, and she continued until I had loaded all my luggage into the car.
When we got home, I hung the mailbox by the window of my study.
My wife dug two dresses and a French wool coat out of the suitcase. She must have looked at the prices on the tags, because she went into the kitchen beaming with delight and began preparing dinner.
That evening, I wrote a fantasy film story outline in Chinese about the white-haired old man I had met at the flea market along the Seine and the mailbox I had bought from him. After signing my name, I put the manuscript into an envelope and dropped it into the mailbox hanging by the window.
The next morning, Mr. Cao, the owner of the publishing house, sent me a message on LINE instructing me to write some novels with fantasy or science-fiction themes. I agreed and told him that I would send him the electronic file of the story outline one week later.
One week later, in the evening, a letter written in English appeared in the mailbox, just as the old man had promised.
I opened the letter and found a stack of bound English pages inside. At the end of the manuscript was the signature “J. R. R. Tolkien.”
Tolkien?
I was startled. “Isn’t this the author of The Lord of the Rings, the British fantasy novelist?”
A sudden thought flashed through my mind. I quickly opened my laptop and used Google to search for images of Tolkien.
“Whoa! Did I actually meet the real Tolkien?”
But the more I thought about it, the stranger it seemed.
“According to Wikipedia, Tolkien died in 1973. So how could he have appeared at a flea market along the Seine...?”
After checking the relevant information, I began reading the stack of English pages Tolkien had sent me. I knew that Tolkien had revised my story outline for me, but the plot inside truly left me “astonished and exhilarated.” It was not only filled with suspense, but also with human conflict. One “scene” after another unfolded, each more twisted and extraordinary than the last, yet utterly captivating...
I stayed up all night translating the English story outline into Chinese. I finished the electronic file and sent it to Mr. Cao through LINE. Then I drank a glass of fresh milk. As dawn began to break, I finally felt at ease and went to bed to catch up on some sleep.
