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Zebediah:
Nice speculation! But I refer you to the "Charlie Brown" story for Pintsize's current whereabouts and status.

Besides, if Pintsize ran Worcester, then Worcester would be the world's biggest porn studio and this story would get very weird.  :-o

MooskiNet:

--- Quote from: MooskiNet on 24 May 2015, 05:39 ---This is really good.

--- End quote ---

Allow me to amplify:  This is really good.  When can I expect to read more?  :mrgreen:

Zebediah:
Soon. Hopefully tomorrow - I need to see what my schedule looks like tomorrow morning.

Mlle Germain:
Hallo people,

after not writing anything for years, I started writing a story yesterday.
When I was still in secondary school, I used to write quite a lot, but lost interest part of the way through a novel several times (I do have three completed short novels, but I am not sure how well they would stand up to rereading now. The shorter stories are probably still ok) -- part of the problem was that I often only thought up the setting, not the full story, and then didn't know how to continue.
Anyway, this time I'm trying to keep it reasonably short. The story is going to have ~ 8-9 relatively short chapters and I've written the first two. I am not sure how much to say about the content up front. Maybe for now I'll just say that it's called

Letters to Dana
Here you go:
Day 1:
(click to show/hide)Dear Dana,
I feel a little silly writing this, knowing you'll never read it, but I guess it gives me something to do and a way to collect my thoughts.

Sitting here, I can't help wondering what you would do in my place, nor asking myself whether I should wish for our places being reversed or not. No, let's not kid ourselves, I really just wish you were here with me.

I'm sure you're wondering where I am and what I'm doing -- but at least I know my impulse to look for a pen and notebook is not something I have to explain to you, though it seemed to baffle my fellow... what? Travellers? We're not really travelling, seeing that noone knows where to go and how to get there. Survivors, I guess.

They have left me now, and I am sitting alone in this large country house. This room must be the office. It is on the first floor and has large windows overlooking the sea. I am sure the sunrise looks amazing from where I'm sitting, but not so sure I should stay overnight to watch it tomorrow morning. It's pretty lonely out here, which is of course why the house is still standing and largely undisturbed. And also why we came here in the first place.

The others took most of the food earlier, and then left for... somewhere... else, I guess. I stayed, because... I don't know, this just felt like a sanctuary, where I could be alone for a while -- you don't know about all that happened since we last saw each other, but I was sick of the endless bickering about food, the distrust, and the arguments about where to go next or how to get help and who to search for. Of course I am scared to be alone out here, and scared that somebody else will come looking for food and shelter in this house. Some of the people with firearms are becoming pretty ruthless about getting supplies from others. And some who do not have firearms will find other ways to scare their victims into giving up food and...

Anyway, this is not what I want to think about here and now.

The people who lived here have a nice library. I mean, looking at it as the person I was a few weeks back it's really nothing out of the ordinary, but now this wall of unscorched, undisturbed books looks amazingly peaceful and normal. I took a few paperbacks and put them into my pack for later. And I took the notebook I'm writing this in, plus a few pens.

Ok, I suppose I should tell you more about what happened?
Well, Gordon and I actually did manage to get back to my parents' place, and then his parents' place, except neither of them were there anymore. The town is almost deserted, apart from a few stray stragglers like us. We managed to find Harold and a few of his friends and I stayed with all of them until they left me here earlier today. It seems that they had been out for the night as well when it happened and then gone back, whereas most people here took their cars and went off. Where? I don't know. And we could get none of the people who were here all the time to get to talk to us; most just want to keep to themselves out of distrust now.

Shit. I think I just heard something downstairs, Dana! I need to go and hide. Or should I look what it is? I'll write more later!
Day 1, later:
(click to show/hide)Dear Dana,
I'm ok. Shaken, but ok.

It turns out that the noise only came from a few dogs (large dogs, actually) which were rummaging around the trash bins outside. No humans. Yet.

Still, I have decided that my position in the office is too precarious for me to stay there. With only one staircase, there is no way to escape from the first floor if someone comes upstairs.
I am now in a small sitting room with a door opening onto a porch outside, far from the kitchen, huddled in a corner between a sofa and the wall. I hope that from here I can make an easy enough escape if necessary.

Presently I am trying to calm down. This place is creeping me out. At the same time I am trying to keep the dark thoughts at bay. I wish I knew where my parents are. I also wish I knew what even happened. My phone still does not have any reception and there is no power either.

I wonder how many bombs fell that night and how much was destroyed. There must have been more than that one, since no help has arrived, people seem to have fled the whole area, maybe the whole state even, with no real semblance of public order left. Maybe we would have heard the other explosions if we hadn't still been deaf and blind from the one. Maybe we would have seen more of those mushroom-shaped clouds in the distance.

I am feeling very tired. And unhungry. Again. The latter is good; it will make my current food supply last longer.

Outside, night is now falling, but before it is completely dark, I want to take up my pen again. I don't know how much time has passed since I wrote that last sentence, but I need to write some more to occupy my mind.

Do you remember how we first met, Dana? I've been trying to picture our first encounter in as much detail as I can -- by being with you in my mind, I feel less alone here.
Does that sound cheesy? Yes, it does. Also, at the time our meeting was really not that special for either of us. You were the super-athletic dance teacher and I the clumsy first-year college student who was not that interested in dancing. I cannot remember what got me to go to your classes in the first place.

I don't think we ever talked during that course. I was certainly never any good, and I know I stopped coming in part because I did not want to embarrass myself in front of you anymore. Even at the time, I feld that no longer seeing you was a downsinde, though.

Suddenly I wish I had put more effort into those dance classes. Ridiculous, I know. I am still not into dancing, even though it is amazing when you do it. But if I had learned more, I would now have something of you with me that noone could ever take away.

Anyway, tell me what you think! If you want to, I mean.
Would you want to read on?
I'm trying to reveal more about the protagonist and Dana and their story bit by bit.

Edit: It occurred to me that I should say: I am not a native English speaker, so if you have any comments on mistakes or weird formulations, I'd be happy to hear them.

Loki:
continue? [y/n]
y

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