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Jake sits on a park bench, the sun streaming over his shoulder, catching some dust motes in its glare. The light splashes on his paper, and his pencil scratches roughly over the parchment style paper. He refuses to use pen, it just doesn't feel the same. The paper is in a little leather-bound book, and the first page is inscribed simply with "Diary"
"November 11th
I recieved a telegram, headed by a man named Deathstalker. My father was dead. I had never known him well.. He wasn't exactly an exemplary father figure. I had grown up with my mum, she had much more of an effect on my life than he ever had. Until today.
So yeah, I digress. This telegram told me my father had died in some kind of war... And I was needed to sort out his affairs.So I came to his city, the dutiful son, fresh from teaching my students. I arrived to find a city in tumult, death everywhere, a war still raging. Everyone around me died, my fathers friends, associates, even his boss. I was left stranded, without a penny to my name, a worthless bum on the streets.
Then when I was at my lowest, beating up some poor biddy just to make ends meet, I met a man who took me in. GiovaniBovine, The Big Cow. He taught me a little more of the life my father led..
Before then.. I'd always lived a sheltered life. Teaching fourth grade students had never exactly been the hight of excitement. The closest I got to death was the inspectors. But now.. I was on the knife edge, dealing drugs, shooting up post offices.. It's the good life. The pure adrenaline of it..
I'm signing off now, I'll keep you posted.
Jake" |
