Finally, finally, the conclusion to this story…
If you missed any of the series, here are parts one, two, three, and four.
. – . – .
Alison Wonder’s Land – part 5 (conclusion)
Pardon me while I pour a cup of coffee. Now, where were we? Yes, Alison and I were in mid-hug, our very first and very best, but not the very last. I had wondered if she loved me and she had whispered, “I do,” followed by “no,” then some, “don’t do it”s.
I remember feeling confused and afraid that she was on the verge of pulling one final disappearing act. I think I put it in some overly dramatic language, something about expecting to be found holding a For Sale sign, or worse, nothing at all. Yes. Yes, that was it.
Oh, now I remember exactly where we left off. Got it. I’m tracking now: Before either of us could speak again, Alison and I heard what sounded like the crack of a gunshot coming from the yard’s edge…
A split second later, we heard, and actually felt, something soar past us, like a miniature rocket.
Less than a second split second later, we felt the concussive blast of a sonic boom, followed by an explosion of wood, glass and metal. Alison and I turned to assess the damage to the front door, or what used to be a front door.
“I said don’t do it,” she yelled, “Didn’t you hear me whispering! You never eavesdrop when you should, only when you shouldn’t!”
Alison shook a shaking finger at a boy with a baseball bat. The boy was standing at the edge of the yard, and light blue smoke was coming off the end of the bat. He was laughing so hard that he flickered like a television screen with a poor signal.
Alison grabbed my face and turned it to hers. “Want to meet my big brother,” she asked.
“Is it legal to mail three-dimensional boys though the postal service,” I asked.
Alison was deep in thought. “I think it’s legal, only if it’s one-way shipping, and only on holidays,” she said.
“That’s right,” I said. “Anything is possible in Alison Wonder’s Land.”
“Does that mean I can stay for good,” she asked.
“Yes. Does that mean you want to,” I asked.
“Let’s wonder about that together,” she said. “Just you and me, and the plural pronouns you live with.”
“You mean, ‘Just you and me, and the plural pronouns with which I live‘?”
“I wonder corrected,” she said.
Alison Wonder gave me the very first and very best hug number two, but who’s counting.
– The End –
_ . _ . _
Some Mapping The Edge readers think I’m incapable of writing a happy ending. Those of you probably expected a last-sentence twist suggesting some vague unresolved conclusion. I think at least a few of you anticipated that Alison would end up forever wrapped in wool in the back of a dark shed. After all, I do have a fear of wool.
To those who think I enjoy finger-pulling a piece of loose frayed thread out of some completed tapestry, I say this: If those awesome hugs between Alison and me had been our very last and very final, instead of very first and best, I’m not sure I could have told you that story. I’ve grown quite fond of her and her world.
If this story had been a sad one, if Alison had died, disappeared permanently, or not existed at all, I think I would have gone back to the beginning, and re-written everything as some unrealistic fantasy or something.
– . – . –