Chronicle of your favorite strawberry, Tagada, mystery and gossip correspondent of Jonathanland
“I am red. I am round. I am sweet. And I know everything that happens in the alleys and forests of our beautiful town… or almost everything.”
Tagada, Flying Strawberry & columnist
Introduction
My dearest Johnlanders, hello, good evening, and good night depending on when you are reading this.
It’s me, your beloved Tagada strawberry. Yes, the little red one flying on her glowing broom through the streets of our cherished town, the same broom that shines a little too brightly in the dark and exposes every one of my secret missions. But what can I say? When you look this delicious, it’s hard to stay unnoticed.
This month, I was terribly bored. Holidays in Jonathanland are wonderful, but for a reporter of my caliber, calm is the sworn enemy. So when one of my strawberry agents whispered that a hot scoop was brewing near Maple Street, I jumped onto my broom without even finishing my cup of warm jam.
Mystery File
| Element | Detail |
|---|---|
| Subject observed | Electra March |
| Location | Golden Eagle Forest |
| Time | Deep night |
| Mystery level | Maximum |
The beginning of the case
Electra March.
For those who don’t know her, and honestly, who truly does? She is a quiet, sensible mother with no apparent history.
Her daughter Viviana, 12 years old, is a sweet little flower in the halls of Jonathanland School.
Nothing about this family seemed unusual.
Until that night.
The exit
It was late. Very late.
The town slept, rocked by the warm summer wind.
And there I was, perched on my broom, desperately trying to hide behind a streetlamp, when I saw Electra leave her house.
Alone.
Wearing something strange.
Definitely not the outfit of a mother going out to buy milk. No. This was something else. Something indescribable, but enough to make my sugar grains stand on end.
She walked straight ahead, without hesitation, toward Golden Eagle Forest.
The forbidden forest
Golden Eagle Forest.
Not the park.
Not the small woods behind the bakery.
The forest.
The one the elders of Jonathanland say hides things ordinary eyes were never meant to see.
I followed her.
Of course I followed her.
I’m Tagada, not a scared little strawberry.
Though I admit my broom was shaking a bit, or maybe it was me.
The trees seemed to close in behind her as she passed, as if they knew her. As if they had been waiting for her.
The meeting
In the central clearing, I saw it.
A wolfdog.
Magnificent.
As mysterious as Scoot the husky, Baby Madison’s companion, you know, the Ewing family’s child.
But this was not an ordinary animal.
Its eyes glowed with an unknown light.
The shift
The moon rose.
And everything changed.
Electra March’s eyes began to shimmer like molten gold.
She opened her mouth.
An ancient language came out.
Neither French, nor English, nor anything known.
A living language.
As if the forest itself was responding.
The branches moved in rhythm with her words.
The chase
Then the chase began.
The wolfdog rushed through the trees.
And Electra followed.
Faster.
Twice as fast.
Faster than a wolf.
On foot.
In a forest.
At night.
I pinched myself.
Well… I tried. Hard to do with candy strawberry paws.
But I was awake. Too awake.
The light
Just as I began to understand… or rather accept that I understood nothing…
A light exploded in the heart of the forest.
White.
Total.
Alive.
Every tree, root, and leaf was engulfed in supernatural brightness.
I fled.
Not out of fear.
Out of journalistic instinct.
A good columnist knows when she has seen enough.
Tagada’s questions
- Who is Electra March really?
- Could she be a hidden superhero among us?
- Does Viviana carry the same secrets?
- How many residents of Jonathanland live double lives?
Conclusion
Since that night, I have been following her. Everywhere.
Discreetly, or at least as discreetly as a red strawberry on a glowing broom can be.
And I realize one thing.
Jonathanland is not the peaceful town we believe it to be.
Our neighbors, our friends, the people at the bakery…
Some are far more extraordinary than they let on.
Coming next
Next month, I will tell you what happens next.
Because my investigation is only just beginning.
And Electra March…
Electra March is not done surprising me.
Tagada, tagada… that is the magic of an old gossiping witch.
Your favorite strawberry, columnist, spy, and candy-coated troublemaker.