tournure's blog

009. public entry.

I've never seen so much snow come at once. There were storms in Licupe, yes, but nothing quite like this. It's almost as if mother nature is plotting against us, trying to break our spirits.

008. private entry. handwritten.

I'm not sure how much longer I can do this. It's hardly been two weeks, but still. They aren't giving me anything, you know? I have nothing to work with. Nothing. Some paint and a few masks, whatever beads and abandoned jewelry I can find in the streets. They've already taken the food. I guess they can only take our homes, now.

But it isn't as if I've never lived off the land before.

007. public entry.

There really is a bear. We didn't get many browns in Yellowstone, but there were plenty of black bears and grizzlies.

006. public entry.

The meeting yesterday went reasonably well, I think. We might not have come to any complete agreements, but we did come up with and discuss some good points. That's important.

But I would feel better having a gun with me instead of having them all stockpiled in one area. Gun-safety would be required, of course, but coming up with a course shouldn't be too difficult.

005. private entry.

[the recording begins with the sound of things falling, being thrown around—mostly items that sound as if they're made of metal. when her voice comes in, it's obviously angry; the clattering stops for a few moments as she speaks.]

I don't like being messed with. I don't like thinking that I've been abandoned, that I'm going to be stuck in this godforsaken city for the rest of my life without any contact with the outside world.

004. public entry.

Jack, I think I'll take an extra shift tomorrow, if that's alright with you. I don't really have anything else planned—the bar's sign needs the time to dry, anyway. You could go by my house and take a look, if you'd like. But if I stay at home, I'm likely to keep adding to it, and then it'll never be finished.

003. public entry.

[time stamp; 4:13 P.M.]

I never thought cleaning could take so much energy. I guess living in a small house by myself for a good while just made tidying up easier than it's supposed to be.

The bar is open, though. I don't think Jack and I have officially picked a name, but you can't miss it—it's at the very end of Main Street, on the east side. I'd suggest the buddy-system, but we're all adults here, as far as I know.

Right. We open in about an hour. I'd better get going.

002. private entry.

I can't—how can they even do this? The others, I mean. Interns. I've never seen most of them before, but I know they're around. How can they just—how can they see these people, know they had a part in warping them, and then just interact as if nothing happened?

001. public entry.

It seems as if they've finally gotten around to bringing the rest along. Good. The lack of activity was beginning to remind me of hom—Wyoming. At least it isn't like the—never mind. Nothing could be like that.