Don't forget me breaks the silence

He tries to see, although he can't. He tries, but doesn't understand. He calls on a different phone line, no one that he knows. An out of focus acquaintance, speaking in a silent parlance. Remember me? Breaks the silence. Reoccuring line, again.


I'm at my old house. The only place I have access. I'm alone, listening to some music, thinking. I'm sick, and for it I'm extremely fatigued and sore. These are the first days off I've had in months, and I'm ill for them. That infuriates me beyond reason. This is my time. Don't I deserve it?

From upstairs in the room that is still mine though only a ghost of me occupies it, through stored possessions, I can hear my windchimes singing. A window somewhere in the house must be open, wind outside changing the air presssure enough to make them stirr. I will never be more haunted, than by that sound.

... just moving somewhere, he just can't stand this feeling no more. He's waiting for something, the coming envision, he's just going somewhere... he just can't...

I know my phone was off for a spell. I couldn't retrieve any calls that were sent to it before then, but don't think it was because I didn't want to answer. It just got left in Kris's truck for the order of a week or so before I could retrieve it. I'd still be up for hearing from any of you, if the fancy struck me. I keep busy, but I have friends here, on this cyber world, and there is that nagging, intermittent lonliness when I feel they're slipping from me.

I want to break out of this. I want to fly away, screaming into the wind like a harpy, free from the financial and fear-wrought chains that are binding me down right now. I have so many places I need, need to be. Right now. Not later, not after my lease, not when I have more money, but now. I can feel it... I can feel, my name being spoken in some haze of sleep or bewilderment, possibly unrecognized even now by the speaker (do you remember?) but I feel it... pulling against the very fiber of my being.

I'm fairly well ready to break.

I will feel better again in the morning.

Sometimes, courage does not roar. Sometimes, courage is the small voice at the end of the day saying 'I will try again tomorrow'.

I will try again tomorrow. I will try again tomorrow.

Don't forget me.

Serial at the End of the World

the water stopped running a few days ago, but we still have electricity. it is 'a precaution'. i hear they're not letting you have access, because you're over there. because people still think that people on your half of the world(right now) sent over that bomb.

i hate them. i hate them all. i heard a woman on the street talking about it yesterday and i wanted to kill her. i honestly wanted to kill her. i think i might have.

but i had to go pick up water. they're trying to send planes over there to get all of 'our' citizens out. they're putting up a face, like they're going to bring you home. i hate them too.

you're the only person left in this whole world i love. come back to me. if you love me, grow wings and fly home.

==end of transmission==

i'm sorry for what i said in my last letter. i think i'm going a little bit mad. it's just that i'm so scared right now. scared that the water is going to run out, that i'm going to die somehow before you make it home.

today, one of the older women down from me in the building got hurt pretty bad. some kids came into her appartment because the door wasn't locked and beat her up pretty badly. i guess they were just looking for water. i don't think the people at the agency are giving out any more. mine's going to run out, but i've got a little while, as long as i keep my door shut. maybe they'll have some answers by them.

at first, i wasn't sure of it, but now i am... i wanted to mention it too you. the earth has been shaking, a little more than usual. i mean, it's just like those earthquakes we always used to have, only... all the time now. a few times a day, a little shiver from beneath the ground. i thought i was imagining it, at first... that i might be getting sick again, but now i feel it all the time, and i can look up, and see my wind-chimes rocking. how are things over there? have you heard anything more about the planes i told you about?

please write.

==end of transmission==