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A Dusty Journal

 
JeassiahBlack's picture
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Dear Jornal,

Hmph, what cliche...but in this case I suppse that works.
When I found this book, it was very weather beaten, as if the last writer had left it on the small bedside table and forgotten it existed.

Well I suppose forgetting about it is very accurate. What little hand writing that that is legible...is mine.

I dont know how or why I left this behind, so much of what was held withen is ruined by time and weather, the house it was in looked like some one had weaked vengence upon the place. I was surprised earlier when I triped out back and came face to face with an old rusted Claymore...who in the right mind would place that there to begin with!

I am unsure how I should be feeling in this place...this house, hell, this entire town. I feel like I know it so well, yet at the same time, those memories are so fleeting, so difficult to grasp. Its like trying to grab smoke with your bare hads, thats how I feel right now.
The radio has been for the most part silent, occasionally I pick up call from some one in the region, but most often they dont respond when I try to respond. I try to think back and something tells me that is not how it used to be, that there were a lot more people like me out there, talking to each other about all kinds of things.
Now, its almost nothing and it feels very lonely.

I drove through the region for a few hours yesterday, and except for one man who would not even say hello, the only living souls I saw were those that make this place their permanent home. Helpful they are to an extent, they had a very definate lack of knowledge as to what happened to all the others..the ones like me. Did the system finally fail in some spectacular fashion, killing almost everyone? Or did they move onwards to some place far away, out of reach of the old network, I dont know and no one that I have found knows either.
I have decided I will linger in the area for awhile longer, something deep down tells me I need to be a little patient and wait. For what or whom, I dont know...but I am hopeful.

Waking up today, I know I was dreaming, someone close to my heart was a deep part of it, though as I awoke, the face faded too quickly for me to recognise, to put to any fragment of my memories that remain from that far back. A name how ever...just speaking the name had the flavor of brightness to me, felt so right. Was it a last name? I am not so certain, but it feels like it was ment to be part of who I am, part of what I am missing and cant seem to find.
Who are you, why does my heart ache when I speak your name out loud? I find myself...afraid to find out, and yet, so hopeful and yearning to know...

Jeassiah Black en'var Reavy

Comments

JeassiahBlack's picture

It's been a very logn time since I felt like writing anything.
Please bear with me as my thoughts and feelings are a little tied into this, as well as kinda jumps around a bit.
I have choosen to start semi fresh with my writing and my character, that those reading understand and those who remember far better than I can help me fill in the gaps of what I am indeed missing and have lost.

Most of all I hope that all those I used to play with are doing well in their lives.

Joe Spivey's picture

Thankyou for this. Poignant, yet hopefull. But perhaps more importantly... more to read, YAY!

Stick with me kid and you'll be farting through silk.

Reavy's picture

Captures the feelings of returning to the place you used to know quite well. Nice!

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