(Yay a chance to look through my Box of Randomness! I think this one is from third form or so...)
I have lived here for as long as I can remember. The only useful memories I have are of learning my way around the city. I know shortcuts everywhere. It is how I survive. This city gets tourists every day, even in Winter! I may not know why the places they want to see are so important but I know ways to get there. There are the ways that the Fancy folk take, I don't go those ways, Guards are paid to keep people like me out of those fancy streets. I don't bother them, but the poorer ones, those that claim they want to see the 'real city'. Them I can get a coin or two, or food, out of for directions, better if I guide them to it. The other thing I know is which of the inns are cleaner, which will cheat tourists and which are downright thieves. I get something for recommending inns sometimes. I get my revenge on those that don't tip at all, or are miserly without needing to be too. I send them to the worse inns, the ones where they will 'loose' things. I am working on getting some sort of job at one of the better inns, even if it's only something for showing customers to the premises. The owner knows I send folks to him. Well, he knows that one of us street-rat-come-guides is directing customers his way. All I need is for one of the Fancy-in-hiding's to want directions to an inn and then maybe I can get it sorted. I don't plan on being nothing for my whole life after all!
I am early this morning, there aren't many tourists yet, most won't get here till after noon, but everyone knows that, it's why I'm here now. Now I won't have to fight to show someone around, later I might. Now though, because they are rare, I have the pick of them. It makes my day longer, but what else am I going to do? I don't get to eat unless a tourist decides I am trustworthy. Horses! But these ones aint dressed as Fancys! “Would you be needing directions to an inn?” I ask as clearly and properly as I can manage. The man glances at the Lady, “That I do lad,” he says. I do not bother to tell him that I am a girl, on the streets it can be better to be thought of as a boy. “Any inn in particular or would you like me to suggest one Sir?” I ask. “You can suggest one boy.” says the Man. This is perfect! Exactly what I need! “I could take you there if you like Sir, the inn I believe would suit you is called the Dragon's Den.” I reply, careful not to sound too self-important. “That'd be good lad, do you know your way around the city?” he asked. “Yes Sir.” I reply, careful not to sound too hopeful. “Well, then I will have another job for you after this. I have some things I need to deliver.” I am going to get to eat tonight! “I will be happy to guide you anywhere you need to go.”
Wordcount 544
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Challenge 8: Japanese Dreams
Walking through her nightmare was like tumbling back into a scene from one of those old Japanese movies. Standing atop a barren hill in the moonlight, she wore a long, tattered dress, white once but now so thin it fluttered in the soft breeze. Her straight black hair tumbled forward, over her eyes, slightly damp. Her sword was long and thin, lethally sharp.
I clambered up through mud, feeling it squash and creep beneath my nails. The fog was rising. By her side, we were surrounded by moans, the crack of bones and scrape of feet dragging in the dirt.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” I whispered.
Glancing back, her large almond eyes were so innocent and trusting. “Charlie? I thought you were dead.”
That part was true. I was dead. How else would I be invading her dreams? But now wasn’t the time to be discussing something so trivial.
The zombies began to climb up, out of the mist, heads twisted to unnatural angles, tongues lolling, dribbling black saliva. There were her parents, faces just like in that faded photograph she hid at the bottom of her bag. Their skin was grey and clammy with blood oozing slowly from the bullet holes in their heads. Behind us, were other familiar faces; my own included - a long deep gash down the side of my face, crimson red eyes staring back, hungry.
“You sure have a morbid imagination,” I muttered, scanning for anything to could use as a weapon.
“I know.” She gripped her sword with both hands, closing her eyes. “Tadano himawari, dakedo watashi wa tsuyoi!”
I’m just a sunflower, but I am strong.
A sudden wind blew warm, dispersing the mist and leaving a faint scent of cinnamon in the air. Akiya opened her eyes, no longer sad, or innocent. Lifting her blade, she danced through the throng, each slice leaving only dust in its wake. Only at the end, did she stop, frozen. The shake of her shoulders was all that betrayed the buried emotion. I scrambled down, through the mud, to reach her. Sword thrown aside, clinging together, holding and kissing, her eyes were wide and shimmering.
“You will be gone with the morning.”
“But I will always be with you, I have been watching,”
She looked at me then, that almost forgotten humor on beautiful, pouting lips. “You’ve been watching me?”
I grinned, knowing what was coming and racing to forestall it. “Except in the shower…”
She stared, the silence widening.
“Or when you are getting changed,” I added hurriedly, when her expression did not change.
There was another silence as she examined my face, a slight crease above her brow annoyingly indecipherable. “Why not?”
Wordcount: 450
I clambered up through mud, feeling it squash and creep beneath my nails. The fog was rising. By her side, we were surrounded by moans, the crack of bones and scrape of feet dragging in the dirt.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” I whispered.
Glancing back, her large almond eyes were so innocent and trusting. “Charlie? I thought you were dead.”
That part was true. I was dead. How else would I be invading her dreams? But now wasn’t the time to be discussing something so trivial.
The zombies began to climb up, out of the mist, heads twisted to unnatural angles, tongues lolling, dribbling black saliva. There were her parents, faces just like in that faded photograph she hid at the bottom of her bag. Their skin was grey and clammy with blood oozing slowly from the bullet holes in their heads. Behind us, were other familiar faces; my own included - a long deep gash down the side of my face, crimson red eyes staring back, hungry.
“You sure have a morbid imagination,” I muttered, scanning for anything to could use as a weapon.
“I know.” She gripped her sword with both hands, closing her eyes. “Tadano himawari, dakedo watashi wa tsuyoi!”
I’m just a sunflower, but I am strong.
A sudden wind blew warm, dispersing the mist and leaving a faint scent of cinnamon in the air. Akiya opened her eyes, no longer sad, or innocent. Lifting her blade, she danced through the throng, each slice leaving only dust in its wake. Only at the end, did she stop, frozen. The shake of her shoulders was all that betrayed the buried emotion. I scrambled down, through the mud, to reach her. Sword thrown aside, clinging together, holding and kissing, her eyes were wide and shimmering.
“You will be gone with the morning.”
“But I will always be with you, I have been watching,”
She looked at me then, that almost forgotten humor on beautiful, pouting lips. “You’ve been watching me?”
I grinned, knowing what was coming and racing to forestall it. “Except in the shower…”
She stared, the silence widening.
“Or when you are getting changed,” I added hurriedly, when her expression did not change.
There was another silence as she examined my face, a slight crease above her brow annoyingly indecipherable. “Why not?”
Wordcount: 450
Special Challenge for the Iconoclast
Due date: 28-01-10
Due time: Midnight
Assignment: take a break, relax, do something you think will make a difference.
;)
Due time: Midnight
Assignment: take a break, relax, do something you think will make a difference.
;)
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Challenge 8: The imagination knows no bounds
I laughed, watching the small cat meowing and trying to catch the wool, which was rapidly unravelling. It tripped over a string, became distracted by a bird, and chased off, leaping up the wall.
The jade lawns stretched ahead, broken only by the tall brick fence and occasional cherry trees scattering snow-petals over even leaves of grass. I sat down gingerly on the long grey wooden bench. Below, where chair legs dug into the turf, sprang sprays of fresh daisies, bluebells, unknown strands of green clustered with dusty white clumps. The mid-afternoon’s sun donated a patch of light to my repose and refreshing warmth to the garden, peering with vague interest through sheets of steel clouds.
Silence; no movement disturbed the serenity until the approach of twilight, which was followed by a young man. “Mother says please come in before you catch a chill, dinner is ready if you want it, and she has heated water if you would like a bath instead,” he said, dropping a fluffy plaid blanket lightly on my lap, leading me inside to a room lit by a healthy fire.
A frying pan was hissing on the stove and an array of food laid out, just leaving room for the four places around the circular board. My brother sat in his place and the chubby cat perched on his plate. He lifted the feline, passing it to the man who entered the room through an inside door. The newcomer was middle-aged, solid in a plain, loose shirt with rolled-up sleeves, and baggy pants. The cat curled up in one of his arms, and the woman near the stove smiled. “How was your day?” The man washed his hands at the sink and sat. “Not bad at all. Looks like a good harvest this year. We can repay that loan soon. Good news,” he added, turning to us two. “We’ll be able to send you to study whatever you want. You can even be a lawyer if you insist,” he finished, with a curious look at his son.
The jade lawns stretched ahead, broken only by the tall brick fence and occasional cherry trees scattering snow-petals over even leaves of grass. I sat down gingerly on the long grey wooden bench. Below, where chair legs dug into the turf, sprang sprays of fresh daisies, bluebells, unknown strands of green clustered with dusty white clumps. The mid-afternoon’s sun donated a patch of light to my repose and refreshing warmth to the garden, peering with vague interest through sheets of steel clouds.
Silence; no movement disturbed the serenity until the approach of twilight, which was followed by a young man. “Mother says please come in before you catch a chill, dinner is ready if you want it, and she has heated water if you would like a bath instead,” he said, dropping a fluffy plaid blanket lightly on my lap, leading me inside to a room lit by a healthy fire.
A frying pan was hissing on the stove and an array of food laid out, just leaving room for the four places around the circular board. My brother sat in his place and the chubby cat perched on his plate. He lifted the feline, passing it to the man who entered the room through an inside door. The newcomer was middle-aged, solid in a plain, loose shirt with rolled-up sleeves, and baggy pants. The cat curled up in one of his arms, and the woman near the stove smiled. “How was your day?” The man washed his hands at the sink and sat. “Not bad at all. Looks like a good harvest this year. We can repay that loan soon. Good news,” he added, turning to us two. “We’ll be able to send you to study whatever you want. You can even be a lawyer if you insist,” he finished, with a curious look at his son.
***
I’d been watching my sister. She was surprisingly quiet all day; sitting on the broken plank stool in the untended backyard; laughing when the wind brushed through the flower-cadavers, rattling the vestiges of leaves, flinging them over the cracked railing; remaining there when the rain came tumbling down. When called to finish the household chores, wet washing dumped on her lap, she went to the cold kitchen and sat at the wobbly table without doing anything about dinner. Father arrived from the fields where we were working, and Yolande cheerfully ignored his protests at the lack of food, his tirade of “Your mother would never have let this happen!”
Finally, weary of father’s complaints at being unable to find work, his whining at my ambitions, I left. Perhaps, when mother was alive, things would never have gone this way, but I’ll be hanged before staying and listening to him insulting me and my sister. I walked out the back and stood a moment studying the broken tree trunk that adorned the buried garden path before jumping the fence and sitting dejectedly in the yellow sward.
I would be hanged before going in there again.
***
I smiled contentedly as mother sat next to me and asked, “Shall we eat?”
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Word count: 550
Based on a story written in 2003.
Challenge 7: Summer
Pete soon catches up, wiping crumbs off his grinning face.
“Did they take ‘em then?” Mattie throws an arm around his shoulder.
“Sure, and they gave me chocolate cake besides!”
“Nah!” Hemi doesn’t believe him, but it’s true! He opens his mouth to show them the chocolate stains on his teeth. “Did!”
“Man ya coulda brought us some back.”
“Nah, yous made me take the fish.”
“That’s fair,” Mattie announces, and they shut up. Dad and Mum are waiting up the road a bit. “What’s the story then, boys?” Dad’s looking pleased with himself.
“Tide’s comin’ in,” Mattie says. “Did pretty well though.” He’d been carrying his kete and Hemi’s bucket, and shows them off. “Got a bit carried away, so I sent Pete around to a coupla ladies on the beach, give them some.”
“Well, auntie says we just need to be back for dinner, so we got the whole afternoon to ourselves. Any plans?”
Pete’s a city boy, really. He gets all excited on holiday. “Let’s go for a walk, Dad! Let’s go up into the forest.” Hemi’s not protesting the idea yet, so Mum says “I’ve got lunch packed, why don’t we drive into the national park and see what walks there are?”
Mattie’s not so keen. He’s met a girl at the dairy where he’s been going to buy the morning milk. He’s been hanging around there talking to her all the time, any excuse. But he does a pretty good job hiding it. “Make it a short one, eh guys? I’m tired from running around after you kids.”
Mum and Dad exchange a smile at their eldest acting all grown up.
“But I want a long walk,” wails Pete. He’s been watching too many reality tv shows about people losing weight or something.
“Maybe coming down with a bug,” Mattie adds. A frown is developing on Pete’s face.
Mum tugs the car door open. “You take it easy then, Mattie. Dad’s got some work to do anyway, so he can stick around here too. I’ll give you boys your sandwiches and take these two up into the park.”
Dad gives her a look. “Go on,” she says with a wink. “You’ll get your work done and Mattie can rest. We can go for a walk later.”
“You owe me, Mattie!” Dad tells him pointedly.
“Oi, no, you go. I’m good on my own.”
“No, no. Auntie’s home, we’ll drop you off at hers and she’ll look after you.” Mum knows this is an even worse prospect for Mattie than staying back with Dad.
Hemi’s been a bit too quiet. The reason becomes clear when Mattie says, “And Hemi shouldn’t get a walk. He’s been trouble all morning. Running off past the rocks and trying to get into the deep water to swim.”
This is amusing. Mattie hasn’t realised his parents know exactly what he’s doing, saving up information so he can nark on his brothers at the right time in the hope his parents’ll forget about him. He’s not lying, though. Mattie doesn’t lie about his brothers, only about his love interests.
“Hemi, what do you feel like doing now?” Mum finally gets in the car and the others follow
.
“Wanna go for a walk...” Hemi doesn’t want a walk, but it would’ve been worth keeping quiet and going along if it meant Mattie didn’t remember to tell on him. Now he’s hoping his punishment will be to get left behind.
“Right, we’ll talk about this over a walk.” Hemi already knows what the talk is – he’s heard it often enough. The theme is about listening to his big brother, and today the plot will be about drowning.
Mum starts the car. “It’d be nice if Mattie could come too, of course.” She looks back at Pete, who’s squished in the middle of the back seat between his brothers. Mattie went through a phase when he wouldn’t let anyone else in that seat because he was scared the seatbelt would chop them in half if there was a crash. Now he’s too big to fit in the seat, he just starts complaining when his parents drive too fast. Not that it matters here, where the roads are unsealed and no one wears seatbelts anyway, apart from Pete, only he doesn’t today.
“You okay there, son?” Mum doesn’t turn around, but she can see him in the mirror. Dad turns around, though. Some days, they wonder if Pete’s the best schemer of the bunch. With great big tears like that in his eyes – well, let’s just say Mum drives straight to the park and doesn’t even ask Mattie what he wants to do. Oh, she doesn’t mind. Pete’s parents can put up with his tears. Even Hemi says “You’re such a baby, Pete.” But Mattie keeps his mouth shut and doesn’t say anything about feeling sick or misbehaving siblings or even wanting to see his auntie. He’ll just make everyone big milkshakes the minute they get back. Really big milkshakes.
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Word count: 835
“Did they take ‘em then?” Mattie throws an arm around his shoulder.
“Sure, and they gave me chocolate cake besides!”
“Nah!” Hemi doesn’t believe him, but it’s true! He opens his mouth to show them the chocolate stains on his teeth. “Did!”
“Man ya coulda brought us some back.”
“Nah, yous made me take the fish.”
“That’s fair,” Mattie announces, and they shut up. Dad and Mum are waiting up the road a bit. “What’s the story then, boys?” Dad’s looking pleased with himself.
“Tide’s comin’ in,” Mattie says. “Did pretty well though.” He’d been carrying his kete and Hemi’s bucket, and shows them off. “Got a bit carried away, so I sent Pete around to a coupla ladies on the beach, give them some.”
“Well, auntie says we just need to be back for dinner, so we got the whole afternoon to ourselves. Any plans?”
Pete’s a city boy, really. He gets all excited on holiday. “Let’s go for a walk, Dad! Let’s go up into the forest.” Hemi’s not protesting the idea yet, so Mum says “I’ve got lunch packed, why don’t we drive into the national park and see what walks there are?”
Mattie’s not so keen. He’s met a girl at the dairy where he’s been going to buy the morning milk. He’s been hanging around there talking to her all the time, any excuse. But he does a pretty good job hiding it. “Make it a short one, eh guys? I’m tired from running around after you kids.”
Mum and Dad exchange a smile at their eldest acting all grown up.
“But I want a long walk,” wails Pete. He’s been watching too many reality tv shows about people losing weight or something.
“Maybe coming down with a bug,” Mattie adds. A frown is developing on Pete’s face.
Mum tugs the car door open. “You take it easy then, Mattie. Dad’s got some work to do anyway, so he can stick around here too. I’ll give you boys your sandwiches and take these two up into the park.”
Dad gives her a look. “Go on,” she says with a wink. “You’ll get your work done and Mattie can rest. We can go for a walk later.”
“You owe me, Mattie!” Dad tells him pointedly.
“Oi, no, you go. I’m good on my own.”
“No, no. Auntie’s home, we’ll drop you off at hers and she’ll look after you.” Mum knows this is an even worse prospect for Mattie than staying back with Dad.
Hemi’s been a bit too quiet. The reason becomes clear when Mattie says, “And Hemi shouldn’t get a walk. He’s been trouble all morning. Running off past the rocks and trying to get into the deep water to swim.”
This is amusing. Mattie hasn’t realised his parents know exactly what he’s doing, saving up information so he can nark on his brothers at the right time in the hope his parents’ll forget about him. He’s not lying, though. Mattie doesn’t lie about his brothers, only about his love interests.
“Hemi, what do you feel like doing now?” Mum finally gets in the car and the others follow
.
“Wanna go for a walk...” Hemi doesn’t want a walk, but it would’ve been worth keeping quiet and going along if it meant Mattie didn’t remember to tell on him. Now he’s hoping his punishment will be to get left behind.
“Right, we’ll talk about this over a walk.” Hemi already knows what the talk is – he’s heard it often enough. The theme is about listening to his big brother, and today the plot will be about drowning.
Mum starts the car. “It’d be nice if Mattie could come too, of course.” She looks back at Pete, who’s squished in the middle of the back seat between his brothers. Mattie went through a phase when he wouldn’t let anyone else in that seat because he was scared the seatbelt would chop them in half if there was a crash. Now he’s too big to fit in the seat, he just starts complaining when his parents drive too fast. Not that it matters here, where the roads are unsealed and no one wears seatbelts anyway, apart from Pete, only he doesn’t today.
“You okay there, son?” Mum doesn’t turn around, but she can see him in the mirror. Dad turns around, though. Some days, they wonder if Pete’s the best schemer of the bunch. With great big tears like that in his eyes – well, let’s just say Mum drives straight to the park and doesn’t even ask Mattie what he wants to do. Oh, she doesn’t mind. Pete’s parents can put up with his tears. Even Hemi says “You’re such a baby, Pete.” But Mattie keeps his mouth shut and doesn’t say anything about feeling sick or misbehaving siblings or even wanting to see his auntie. He’ll just make everyone big milkshakes the minute they get back. Really big milkshakes.
------------------------------------------------------------
Word count: 835
Challenge 6: Ma's birthday party
Ma thought it was a bit strange at first. It is strange if you think about it - one living being growing inside another. But she got over the weirdness - perhaps the slight bit of disgust - soon enough. Same old story, right? We look into each other's eyes, we fall in love. Ma had heard it all before, but it was something else to experience it for herself. The kid? Well, she did the usual. Eat, poop, scream. We got along so well, even when Ma thought the kid would bust both our eardrums screaming. It wasn't five days before the kid was little Lou (Ma only became Ma when little Lou was born, she was Annie before that, then everyone got so used to Lou hanging around asking for 'Ma!', they started calling her that too) and Pa had vanished again. Lou, growing up without Pa, barely noticed - that's how well we get on.
We're at the beach today. Ma's wearing her old sundress and Lou's wearing her new one. Actually, Ma gave Lou hers but Lou gave it back when she got the new one. It's Ma's thirty-fifth birthday, so we thought we'd go out, only Ma's drinking has taken a bit of a toll on our finances, so we took the bus to the beach. Lou got the day off, and made a picnic. The only reason we do birthdays now is because when Lou went to school, all the other kids had birthday parties and cakes and lollies. Since it was rare we had more than canned tomatoes and cheap bread to eat, Lou never got a birthday party until she was thirteen and had her first part time job, and figured it was a good investment to buy a cake if she got presents in return. Took her a while to realise that meant she'd get invited to parties too, and would have to come up with presents of her own.
Once Lou left school it was easier for a couple years - we had two incomes, and we started having our own little birthday dos, just us two. That was before Ma started drinking - but we're working on that. We always support each other. When Lou got into trouble with the cops, Ma told them our sad story about how that bastard walked off and left her holding the baby and they felt so sorry for us they just said don't let us catch you dealing pot again. And Lou can be pretty smart when she wants to be - she hasn't let them catch her again.
We're happy just to walk along the beach. Some boys are playing around on the tidal flats, finding shellfish or something. Neither of us likes seafood. Ma doesn't even like the smell of the sea, though Lou doesn't mind it. She’d a boyfriend who smelt like the sea once, because he used to go fishing all the time. Actually, that was her only real boyfriend and he was a tough one. Ma would’ve scared him off if he hadn't got himself into trouble already because of the weed. Ma’s a bit put off lunch by the smell, so we wander back towards one of the benches and sit down. Lou starts eating, makes a face. “Good to see your sandwiches ain’t changed,” says Ma, “go put some salt in it, that’ll make it taste better.”
A boy runs up to us with a big grin on his face and a kete in his hands. The others are straggling back to the shore. This one can’t be more than six or seven. “’Scuse me.” He drops the kete and we can see it’s full of mussels and something else. “Mattie says we got too much, and would you like some?”
We don’t know what to do for a moment. Ma’s eyes’re full of tears.
“Oh, darlin’. ‘Course we would. Would you like some cake?”
------------------------------------------------------------------
Word count: 659
We're at the beach today. Ma's wearing her old sundress and Lou's wearing her new one. Actually, Ma gave Lou hers but Lou gave it back when she got the new one. It's Ma's thirty-fifth birthday, so we thought we'd go out, only Ma's drinking has taken a bit of a toll on our finances, so we took the bus to the beach. Lou got the day off, and made a picnic. The only reason we do birthdays now is because when Lou went to school, all the other kids had birthday parties and cakes and lollies. Since it was rare we had more than canned tomatoes and cheap bread to eat, Lou never got a birthday party until she was thirteen and had her first part time job, and figured it was a good investment to buy a cake if she got presents in return. Took her a while to realise that meant she'd get invited to parties too, and would have to come up with presents of her own.
Once Lou left school it was easier for a couple years - we had two incomes, and we started having our own little birthday dos, just us two. That was before Ma started drinking - but we're working on that. We always support each other. When Lou got into trouble with the cops, Ma told them our sad story about how that bastard walked off and left her holding the baby and they felt so sorry for us they just said don't let us catch you dealing pot again. And Lou can be pretty smart when she wants to be - she hasn't let them catch her again.
We're happy just to walk along the beach. Some boys are playing around on the tidal flats, finding shellfish or something. Neither of us likes seafood. Ma doesn't even like the smell of the sea, though Lou doesn't mind it. She’d a boyfriend who smelt like the sea once, because he used to go fishing all the time. Actually, that was her only real boyfriend and he was a tough one. Ma would’ve scared him off if he hadn't got himself into trouble already because of the weed. Ma’s a bit put off lunch by the smell, so we wander back towards one of the benches and sit down. Lou starts eating, makes a face. “Good to see your sandwiches ain’t changed,” says Ma, “go put some salt in it, that’ll make it taste better.”
A boy runs up to us with a big grin on his face and a kete in his hands. The others are straggling back to the shore. This one can’t be more than six or seven. “’Scuse me.” He drops the kete and we can see it’s full of mussels and something else. “Mattie says we got too much, and would you like some?”
We don’t know what to do for a moment. Ma’s eyes’re full of tears.
“Oh, darlin’. ‘Course we would. Would you like some cake?”
------------------------------------------------------------------
Word count: 659
Challenge 5: A few days in our time
Dear Tuck,
I promised I’d keep a diary for you, so...here. It’s a beautiful book. I hope to do it justice! It’s strange to be writing by hand rather than a transcriber. Nevertheless, it’s nice to think things out, to ensure they are phrased well – to not have to focus only on thinking the right thing in the right order! I suppose – and I suspect it to be a common problem –we become accustomed to restricting our thoughts, structuring them such that a first iteration from a transcriber is comprehensible. I anticipate it will take some time before I can think a hundred things at once and structure them in writing, but I do look forward to it.
19 January 2010
Four days in, my fear is that someone will discover my diary. I shall tell them everything – this included! is some fiction I’m writing. But, dear Tuck, I must tell you about this fantastical world. Even here, a paper journal is anachronistic. They use the ‘computers’. They’re not quite as I imagined – somewhat larger – though smaller communication devices (do you remember the word ‘phones’?) and variations thereon, are widespread.
In other news, there was an earthquake – can you believe it?! – in a little country in the Carribean. I’m not sure where it is (you know my geographical knowledge is lacking!) & we shall have to look it up when I return. The Captain mentioned it, but I haven’t been in communication with the others since arrival. The earthquake was devastating – I’ve never seen such awful happenings as they show on the ‘teevee’ (abbreviation, ‘television’). Back home, we never think about fault-lubricating systems or whatever they use to keep landmasses moving smoothly without these dangers.
Sometimes I wonder how I ended up with a scientific team! However, I’m privileged to be the student assistant. As for the others: Captain and partner are travelling. Yts (I should say ‘she’, as Captain is female for the purposes of this mission) is, of course, familiar with this routine. Samy (female, historian), is buried in a library nearby; Innley, (biologist) has gone off on his own – apparently that’s typical, though he’s the one with the other DEVICE so hoping we have no problems! The rest are crazy – the two geologists have found their way to the earthquake, and the chemist went in search of a warzone! I wish I could have accompanied the others, but, Tuck, don’t call me immature – I understand they can’t risk inexperienced members getting into trouble. I’d like to tell you more, but I have a sore hand! And it’s time for dinner – my host family is kind, and the ‘father’ is an excellent cook – besides which you’ll get to see most of the other details in my report.
21 January 2010
I promised to write everyday, didn’t I? It’s easy to become carried away in absorbing this world - seemed a shame to spend a moment sitting here writing. Had a ‘phone call’ from the Captain –meetings all going well and hoping to be back within two days. No word from the chemist – who knows what yts wanted with a warzone – or Innley; the geologists are enjoying their studies but not the devastation. Samy met me for ‘coffee’ (hot, caffeinated drink of which there are many varieties) before leaving to visit another university. She’s thrilled by all this.
23 January 2010
The computer’s not functioning! Something to do with angry ‘farmers’ and ‘power cuts’. So back to writing. No communication. Is this normal? I don’t remember, though I’m sure they were to check in with me daily - so far all I’ve had is that one ‘phone call’ and the meeting with Samy.
24 January 2010
No word from anyone – the Captain at least should’ve checked in by now. Samy’s back and worried too. Departure tomorrow!
25 January 2010
Dearest, dearest Tuck. I wonder if I’ll see you again. I wonder if you’re even still real. The Captain came back alone, a mess. They won’t share the details but someone attacked yts and now they have the DEVICE, or so she says. If Innley returns perhaps we can return to the 22nd to stop it, but what if we screw things up further?
28 January 2010
The three day leeway’s gone - the gateway will be closed. Maybe one of you will come for us after the twenty year rest period. If the world is still here. If the future is still there. There’s talk of high-tech weapons – they’re banned in our time! – and war. Captain says her monitor recorded DEVICE flux last night. Someone’s up to something.
I promised I’d keep a diary for you, so...here. It’s a beautiful book. I hope to do it justice! It’s strange to be writing by hand rather than a transcriber. Nevertheless, it’s nice to think things out, to ensure they are phrased well – to not have to focus only on thinking the right thing in the right order! I suppose – and I suspect it to be a common problem –we become accustomed to restricting our thoughts, structuring them such that a first iteration from a transcriber is comprehensible. I anticipate it will take some time before I can think a hundred things at once and structure them in writing, but I do look forward to it.
19 January 2010
Four days in, my fear is that someone will discover my diary. I shall tell them everything – this included! is some fiction I’m writing. But, dear Tuck, I must tell you about this fantastical world. Even here, a paper journal is anachronistic. They use the ‘computers’. They’re not quite as I imagined – somewhat larger – though smaller communication devices (do you remember the word ‘phones’?) and variations thereon, are widespread.
In other news, there was an earthquake – can you believe it?! – in a little country in the Carribean. I’m not sure where it is (you know my geographical knowledge is lacking!) & we shall have to look it up when I return. The Captain mentioned it, but I haven’t been in communication with the others since arrival. The earthquake was devastating – I’ve never seen such awful happenings as they show on the ‘teevee’ (abbreviation, ‘television’). Back home, we never think about fault-lubricating systems or whatever they use to keep landmasses moving smoothly without these dangers.
Sometimes I wonder how I ended up with a scientific team! However, I’m privileged to be the student assistant. As for the others: Captain and partner are travelling. Yts (I should say ‘she’, as Captain is female for the purposes of this mission) is, of course, familiar with this routine. Samy (female, historian), is buried in a library nearby; Innley, (biologist) has gone off on his own – apparently that’s typical, though he’s the one with the other DEVICE so hoping we have no problems! The rest are crazy – the two geologists have found their way to the earthquake, and the chemist went in search of a warzone! I wish I could have accompanied the others, but, Tuck, don’t call me immature – I understand they can’t risk inexperienced members getting into trouble. I’d like to tell you more, but I have a sore hand! And it’s time for dinner – my host family is kind, and the ‘father’ is an excellent cook – besides which you’ll get to see most of the other details in my report.
21 January 2010
I promised to write everyday, didn’t I? It’s easy to become carried away in absorbing this world - seemed a shame to spend a moment sitting here writing. Had a ‘phone call’ from the Captain –meetings all going well and hoping to be back within two days. No word from the chemist – who knows what yts wanted with a warzone – or Innley; the geologists are enjoying their studies but not the devastation. Samy met me for ‘coffee’ (hot, caffeinated drink of which there are many varieties) before leaving to visit another university. She’s thrilled by all this.
23 January 2010
The computer’s not functioning! Something to do with angry ‘farmers’ and ‘power cuts’. So back to writing. No communication. Is this normal? I don’t remember, though I’m sure they were to check in with me daily - so far all I’ve had is that one ‘phone call’ and the meeting with Samy.
24 January 2010
No word from anyone – the Captain at least should’ve checked in by now. Samy’s back and worried too. Departure tomorrow!
25 January 2010
Dearest, dearest Tuck. I wonder if I’ll see you again. I wonder if you’re even still real. The Captain came back alone, a mess. They won’t share the details but someone attacked yts and now they have the DEVICE, or so she says. If Innley returns perhaps we can return to the 22nd to stop it, but what if we screw things up further?
28 January 2010
The three day leeway’s gone - the gateway will be closed. Maybe one of you will come for us after the twenty year rest period. If the world is still here. If the future is still there. There’s talk of high-tech weapons – they’re banned in our time! – and war. Captain says her monitor recorded DEVICE flux last night. Someone’s up to something.
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Word count: 769
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