Good morning everyone. I hope you had a good night. I had a pretty decent one and no real dreams to speak off. Somehow that always throws me a little off kilter. I usually remember at least something from my dreams each night. When I don’t I feel a little like my brain is keeping secrets from me. but I’ll get over it. So Everyone who is joining in, set your timers for fifteen minutes, stretch your fingers and reach for the writing implement of your choice. And let’s begin.
Oh, this is fun. Now I have to figure out the big catastrophe and how she survived, but that could be fun too.
Wednesday, October 26th:And where are you from?
“And where are you from?” The question was sweetly phrased, politely curious and likely meant no harm. Still my palms started to sweat. I hated admitting where I was from. It always led to questions.
“A few hours west of here,” I said. I hoped generalities would stand me in good stead. That more questions wouldn’t be asked.
She tilted her head slightly to the side. “Really?” She asked. “Where abouts?”
“Out towards Morgan Flats,” I said.
“Oh,” she nodded, recognizing the large geographic feature the entire western segment of the Gratovia Nation used as a dividing marker. It was a huge area and not only stretched for miles east and west but ran nearly the entire North/south width of the country. She nodded and looked to my left where another new comer stood. “And you?”
“Masonville,” came the clear and concise reply. I took a step back and angled myself towards the drinks table. Perhaps the question would be forgotten now that it was asked and with a cup of punch in my hand perhaps I could use the consuming of a beverage as a delaying tactic should it come up again.
This mixer was mandatory for all incoming students. It was meant to be a fun way for the existing students to welcome the incoming ones and make sure everyone had a few familiar faces on campus when class started on Monday. Personally I only wanted people here to be familiar enough with my face to be certain that I belonged and was not an interloper.
As the evening progressed, everyone assumed the basic getting to know you questions were asked and the topics of choice switched to studies. I was far more comfortable discussing my general academic aspirations than I was my past so I began to relax. I even began to enjoy myself as the gathering wound to a close and we were all allowed to totter off filled with fruit punch and homemade lemon bars. I made it outside and turned in the direction that would lead me back towards my accommodations. It seemed most everyone else was going in the other direction. Only three others peeled off walking the same way I was.
“You’re out towards Farsta as well huh?” one of the girls asked. Brenda was her name. Or maybe Britney or perhaps Briny. I couldn’t remember but I was sure it was a B. “Cool,” she said. “Well walk with.”
I nodded and all four of us headed off away from the large group of others.
“So you’re from near Morgan Flats?” one of the guys asked. I didn’t catch his name.
“Yup,” I replied.
“Ever been to Weston Park,” he asked. Briny or Britany or whoever she was slugged his arm.
“Like she hasn’t been asked that already a million times tonight, Deek,” she said. “Just leave it be.”
“What I think it’s cool,” Deek replied. I kept my mouth shut and let them bicker. The one thing I didn’t want to say was that I had not only been to Weston Park but I was from there. I was one of the few survivors.
Ten til Midnight 