Post by RandallBoggs on Jan 8, 2006 17:45:17 GMT -5
"Ahh...what a day....it's only five o'clock...but it's a Sunday....oh yay....."
"Anyway. I finally got together at least the first chapter of this little thing of mine....well....Sean wrote it but I really am the guy to give credit to hehehe"
"So...here it is...don't really know how to make one of these summaries for something like this...but this is just a little something I decided to make with all this sequel talk...so...enjoy"
Chapter 1 Thoughts and Tranquility
Dear Mom and Dad,
It’s been years now. I can’t remember how long though. That scar of mine makes it hard to remember things nowadays. Even so, it still hurts. In any case, I’m sorry I haven’t written in a while. I have been up to all four hands in fixing the “Sanctuary”. Yeah. Sorry I’m not big on the name, but I guess something simple was enough. I don’t know why I did this anyway.
I told you about….what happened before….right? Yeah. Well anyway. I managed to get away and, I still don’t know how the heck I did, found a place with no humans around. Took me a year or so before I found it though. I figured that getting home is out of the question. Even now I feel so weak that it’s hard to do anything anymore.
When I started, I had to start rough. Making an axe with my teeth and getting some lumber and tying it with vines. I wasn’t sure exactly what I was doing, but I guess I was making a home. Before I knew it, I had it done though…..
But I still didn’t feel right about everything. That is. Till I met another…“Human World Wander”, I don’t like the word they use anymore…doesn’t exist to me now, when I was gathering some wood. It was a rough introduction I guess, but…heh…I don’t give up easily….
Eventually he helped me out and I got the place larger. That is…after I told him about what happened to me. It was then I wondered….what about others? Miko, his name, wasn’t such a bad guy really. Say’s he got…exiled because he attempted to steal pictures from the museum in the middle of the city. Remember? The one with the large dome down in the Cultural District.
No! Mom I…I don’t still ok. You know I wouldn’t. Still. Miko told me he didn’t hurt anybody, he even gave up willing when he was caught. From what he told me, I thought it was a pretty harsh punishment, even though he should have gotten one.
What if there were other’s like him and me? I went through…sigh…sorry Mom….I went through hell…I could imagine others were in the same position I was in…
Going home to see you guys, if you are there, seems impossible. But. Maybe I can still do something with my life. After nearly who knows how I….came to think that maybe finding others would be…heh…a “good deed” on my part.
Running out of room here. I need to see if I can get some more paper in this book to write some more.
Mom. Dad. I hope you find this when if I don’t make it here…but if not I…I….hope your proud of me….
Your Son,
Randall
*
Randall closed his book, placing the half-empty black pen on the desk, holding the book with his lower hands. His mouth let a croaked sigh escape his breath as he looked over his room.
It has been nearly five years. FIVE. And although it was an eternity to Randall, he had to admit that the place was not a waste. The walls were painted red with a broken, though later fixed, roller some other Wander found. The lights were decorative, such as tea-cup and flower crafted, though broken, except for the bulbs they stole. The two hand-made bookshelves on the left side had an array of books on them. Most were gifts from the others. Although Randall couldn’t read some of them, due to languages, he did enjoy them. On the opposite wall was his bed. Hand-crafted too, save for the mattress and the two feather stuffed pillows. Also a lamp that that was in a good condition on top of a drawer with broken off handles. The floor itself had a rug in the center, but it hardly covered the look of the deteriorating, yet still sturdy, wooden logs. The door was ahead of it, normal door, also red. Opposite of it was Randall’s desk that he put together himself. It worked pretty well actually. Beyond that was a chair, and beyond that was a blind-able window. The blinds were slightly open, allowing Randall to peer out. He didn’t care about human intruders. They didn’t know about this place. Even so, there was plenty of protection.
Randall sat on the chair, more leaning on it really, looking out with narrowed eyes. Humans wouldn’t see him anyway. Randall really couldn’t describe himself nowadays either really. He hadn’t looked at a mirror since…he couldn’t remember. He just hated mirrors. He developed a hatred of looking at them, or anything that would show himself, though if it was water or something, he’d probably close his eyes or not look at it altogether. For as long as Randall could remember, he hadn’t seen himself.
He just starred, watching. Looking out.
Five years. How much had he accomplished? Did it even matter? Randall didn’t really know. Questions hurt his head, literally. But it was strange. In five years, he had gathered “Wanders” across America. He hadn’t obtained everyone in person, but after telling his own story, nearly everyone decided that Sanctuary was allot better than their current life. Randall didn’t force the matter on anyone, just merely gave them a chance.
“A second chance…unlike me…” he thought.
Yes. Giving them a second chance. Of course. Some of them weren’t as good though. Some murderers and thieves, and other things. Randall didn’t, however, really care. Sure. He hated many of what they’ve done, but they all…act as if they’re in dept to him for what he has done. He had made a place where those from another world could be safe. Still, he wouldn’t put it past someone to kill him in his sleep, but faintly, some of the more dangerous Wanders seemed, which Randall could find slight irony, afraid of him. Through the years, Randall had accepted his face. Fear of death seemed to not affect him at all. Worrying didn’t seem to be part of him. In fact, it seemed like he had only a few things that prevented him from wanting to end his life.
Nearly all the Wanders couldn’t think of how complex his mind worked. But from the stories he had told them, it seemed as if Randall was more than any of them….
Randall just continued to stare. Thinking about life. Death. Turns. Paths. So many things that determine the outcome of Fate….
"Anyway. I finally got together at least the first chapter of this little thing of mine....well....Sean wrote it but I really am the guy to give credit to hehehe"
"So...here it is...don't really know how to make one of these summaries for something like this...but this is just a little something I decided to make with all this sequel talk...so...enjoy"
Vice-Versa
Chapter 1 Thoughts and Tranquility
Dear Mom and Dad,
It’s been years now. I can’t remember how long though. That scar of mine makes it hard to remember things nowadays. Even so, it still hurts. In any case, I’m sorry I haven’t written in a while. I have been up to all four hands in fixing the “Sanctuary”. Yeah. Sorry I’m not big on the name, but I guess something simple was enough. I don’t know why I did this anyway.
I told you about….what happened before….right? Yeah. Well anyway. I managed to get away and, I still don’t know how the heck I did, found a place with no humans around. Took me a year or so before I found it though. I figured that getting home is out of the question. Even now I feel so weak that it’s hard to do anything anymore.
When I started, I had to start rough. Making an axe with my teeth and getting some lumber and tying it with vines. I wasn’t sure exactly what I was doing, but I guess I was making a home. Before I knew it, I had it done though…..
But I still didn’t feel right about everything. That is. Till I met another…“Human World Wander”, I don’t like the word they use anymore…doesn’t exist to me now, when I was gathering some wood. It was a rough introduction I guess, but…heh…I don’t give up easily….
Eventually he helped me out and I got the place larger. That is…after I told him about what happened to me. It was then I wondered….what about others? Miko, his name, wasn’t such a bad guy really. Say’s he got…exiled because he attempted to steal pictures from the museum in the middle of the city. Remember? The one with the large dome down in the Cultural District.
No! Mom I…I don’t still ok. You know I wouldn’t. Still. Miko told me he didn’t hurt anybody, he even gave up willing when he was caught. From what he told me, I thought it was a pretty harsh punishment, even though he should have gotten one.
What if there were other’s like him and me? I went through…sigh…sorry Mom….I went through hell…I could imagine others were in the same position I was in…
Going home to see you guys, if you are there, seems impossible. But. Maybe I can still do something with my life. After nearly who knows how I….came to think that maybe finding others would be…heh…a “good deed” on my part.
Running out of room here. I need to see if I can get some more paper in this book to write some more.
Mom. Dad. I hope you find this when if I don’t make it here…but if not I…I….hope your proud of me….
Your Son,
Randall
*
Randall closed his book, placing the half-empty black pen on the desk, holding the book with his lower hands. His mouth let a croaked sigh escape his breath as he looked over his room.
It has been nearly five years. FIVE. And although it was an eternity to Randall, he had to admit that the place was not a waste. The walls were painted red with a broken, though later fixed, roller some other Wander found. The lights were decorative, such as tea-cup and flower crafted, though broken, except for the bulbs they stole. The two hand-made bookshelves on the left side had an array of books on them. Most were gifts from the others. Although Randall couldn’t read some of them, due to languages, he did enjoy them. On the opposite wall was his bed. Hand-crafted too, save for the mattress and the two feather stuffed pillows. Also a lamp that that was in a good condition on top of a drawer with broken off handles. The floor itself had a rug in the center, but it hardly covered the look of the deteriorating, yet still sturdy, wooden logs. The door was ahead of it, normal door, also red. Opposite of it was Randall’s desk that he put together himself. It worked pretty well actually. Beyond that was a chair, and beyond that was a blind-able window. The blinds were slightly open, allowing Randall to peer out. He didn’t care about human intruders. They didn’t know about this place. Even so, there was plenty of protection.
Randall sat on the chair, more leaning on it really, looking out with narrowed eyes. Humans wouldn’t see him anyway. Randall really couldn’t describe himself nowadays either really. He hadn’t looked at a mirror since…he couldn’t remember. He just hated mirrors. He developed a hatred of looking at them, or anything that would show himself, though if it was water or something, he’d probably close his eyes or not look at it altogether. For as long as Randall could remember, he hadn’t seen himself.
He just starred, watching. Looking out.
Five years. How much had he accomplished? Did it even matter? Randall didn’t really know. Questions hurt his head, literally. But it was strange. In five years, he had gathered “Wanders” across America. He hadn’t obtained everyone in person, but after telling his own story, nearly everyone decided that Sanctuary was allot better than their current life. Randall didn’t force the matter on anyone, just merely gave them a chance.
“A second chance…unlike me…” he thought.
Yes. Giving them a second chance. Of course. Some of them weren’t as good though. Some murderers and thieves, and other things. Randall didn’t, however, really care. Sure. He hated many of what they’ve done, but they all…act as if they’re in dept to him for what he has done. He had made a place where those from another world could be safe. Still, he wouldn’t put it past someone to kill him in his sleep, but faintly, some of the more dangerous Wanders seemed, which Randall could find slight irony, afraid of him. Through the years, Randall had accepted his face. Fear of death seemed to not affect him at all. Worrying didn’t seem to be part of him. In fact, it seemed like he had only a few things that prevented him from wanting to end his life.
Nearly all the Wanders couldn’t think of how complex his mind worked. But from the stories he had told them, it seemed as if Randall was more than any of them….
Randall just continued to stare. Thinking about life. Death. Turns. Paths. So many things that determine the outcome of Fate….