It was a peculiar thing, that letter opener. It was shaped like a sword, and a full nine inches in height. It looked as though it were something strange and magical, possibly stolen from another world; and if not stolen, then at the very least on loan, as if its’ rightful owner might return one day to retrieve his jewelled possession. I often suspected such a thing while I opened my mail, noting the unusual sharpness it held.
Then one fine August morning, as I studied the glittering object, something wonderful happened. I say wonderful only because what happened made me stare in wonder, not because it made me immediately happy.
I did not then know where it came from, and to this day the origin is still suspect to me – but this I do know: that it – rather, he, was there. My imagination, wild as it may be, is not ingenius enough to have dreamed him up.
The apparition before me was quite small, only about eighteen inches tall, but every inch of him was present, formal, and intent, and it seemed his every cell spoke of seriousness, but also of serious softness. At his side hung a scabbard, holding a sword of similar size to my letter opener, but not nearly so fancy.
“My blade, if you please, my dear large sir.”
“Now wait a minute!” I exclaimed. “I paid fifteen dollars for this – ”
“At a pawn shop,” interrupted the miniscule man. “I know. I have tracked it halfway across your country. Now if you would be so kind as to give me my sword – ”
“It’s not a sword,” I answered. “It’s just a letter opener!”
The small man’s hands flew to his mouth, covering a look of horror. “You would use Yeisril… as a… letter opener?!”
I laughed. “Don’t get so excited, little man. It’s just a letter opener to me.” I looked around the room. “Where did you come from, anyway?”
“I will explain all you wish to know, the moment Yeisril is safely back in her scabbard.”
…to be continued…