• Memory Survives Silenced Tongues •

Anonymous asked: How do you do those glitched typo in the text?

[[OOC:  http://www.eeemo.net/  Zalgo text generator.  It’s pretty great.]]

004

There was nothing to be found on the street.  I will have to break into one of the buildings and hope one has electricity.  I have still seen no signs of anyone but have yet to go as far as City Hall.  Many of the roads are blocked ann̫̫̬̪̰̟̮ͮö́̅̒̓ ̝͎̞̙͓̘w̼a͔̦̝̥ͫ͌ỷ̖̩͇͎͙̰̆ͅ ͙̖̮͓ͪ̆ͯ͆o̰̩̳̻̞̙͗͗ͦ̾u͙̱̣̺̣͊ͥt͍̞ͥ̌̾̋ͅyway.  I will need a map.

The silence is getting to me.  It’s so quiet, except the buzzings͉̏ͣ̿̌̈̂͘o̹̝̘̒̏ͭ́͐̕m̍͂ͫ͏̺͚͖ȩ͖̥̱͎̳̦̿̾͗t̤̤͐̂ͦ͋̉ͯ̓͘hì͕n̷̗̟̯̹g̷̠̯̰͖̚̚ ̻̖̭͙͚̯͛̅̈́ͭ͒͛͜ͅị̹̙̪̈̽ͭ͆̏s̮͚̠̩̊͘ ̑̿͜h͚̾̊ę͍̠̠̮̜͈̣͊ͧͪͯ̍̅̚řȩ̘̙̦͈̹ͧͣ̄͒́̈ of this headache.  Like something’s crawlingc̠̬̬̹͉̄̉ͥͯ͒͟͠ͅo̷̰̲̥̗̦̳͕ͦṋ̵̸͍̾̿͘ͅs̤͇͖̞͚̒́͘͢u̢͈̲̘̠̤ͣ́́̃̅͆̔̿̊m̶̩̩͚̺͕͙͍̪̫̓̌̍͛̿̄̉i̗͖͈͚ͬ̀̅̈̓͟͡ͅń̸̟̮̦̺̮̗̪̳̿͊͑́́g̷̸͓̣̞̣̣͆ͣ̿ͬ̉͊ͥ ̥̤͔̺̬͎ͭ͑͌̔̔̉̚i̵̛̺̲͙͕͑̃̍̎̒̀n̦̳̗̖̞̣̮̩ͤs̻̭̝̒̐̋ͅiͣͦͧͣ̃̌̃͡͏̩̟̣̱̳̜ͅd͖̺̮͂̆͒̅ͩ̆ͅe̛̫̥̱͓ͤ̓́͠ ͓̣̦̝̲͎̳ͮ̎̑ͮ̽ͩ̽m̴̙͈̯͕̳̤̂ͨͬ̋ͣͬ̚͞y̶̨̺͈ͣ͛͊͛ͪ ̬̬̺̲͈̼ͬ̍̄̌̏̉ͩ͢h͇͔̜͈̮̖͕͍͇͐ͤ̌ͤ͢͝e̴̤̯̹̼̦̰ͬ̕͞ä̜̖̦͔͍̻́ͬ̊̀͘d͎͚̹͖ͬͩͫ͗͜ inside my head.  I don’t want to risk taking any aspirin.

Hopefully I will find some answers.  If not, maybe some useful items.  I would settle for that.

ellishartthethird replied to your post: Ellis, isn’t it? You work in a library, do you…

how odd. i’ll see what i can find.

Again, I would be much obliged.  I’ve yet to find any explanation in my search of the town.

Ellis, isn’t it? You work in a library, do you not? Could you look something up for me, if you have the chance?

I would be much obliged. I need n̆͐̈́̂́͐̆͛̽͏̧͕̳͉̯͡ͅe̢̤͇͙̪ͦ̐͐ͪ̆́͑̕e̡̹͙̭͊ͯ̿̊̽̑ͭͦ̚d͔̣̫̦͓̠ͬ͗ͮ́̃̉͐̋͞ to knowN̨͔̹͎̟̯̳̰͚̹̙̫ͣ͋̐̅̆̊̍̅͟Ȩ̸̷̧̓͗̾̿̈̊͏̪͍̺̘͖̺̥̲ͅE͓̘͖̦̖͇͙͎͑͛͗ͭ͋͗̓̀ͥ́Dͨ̈ͤ̀̃͋̔͛ͪ̊̓͛̋̋̂͏҉͔̙̯̯̞̭͈̭̭̩̹́͜ ̷̛̛̭̬͔̞̬̭͚͉̜̲͍̓̾ͩ̄͂̍̄ͩͣͮ͌ͤ͊̚͝t̴̴̜͔͍̬̺͔̀ͭ̂ͪͦ̚͟͜o̜͈̪̟̜̹̘̩̘͉̙̺̮͙͎̲͐ͬͭ̾͊̍̓͆͊͋̀͑̚̕͘ ̵̫͎̟͍̖͉̪̮͍̹ͬ̈́̃̀ͪͯ̅ͅK̶̡̓ͦ͋̐̏̉͂ͭͫ͛̍͑ͪ̈́̚̚͝҉̪̖̲̟̺͉͙̹̕N̩̥͇̭̠̙̖͙̻͙͎̟̠͉̭̠͙ͧ͊̽̏̂̽͌ͫ̆͑͌͛͒͂̇̏́́ͅO̶̶̞̼̭̦̩͓͎̝̻͓͉̅̆ͪ̌͋̅̋̈́̉́͠W̷̢̢͖̳͖͙͔̹̙̝̣̝ͫ͂͑̆ͅ if anything happened in Trenton New Jersey in the last two years. Something that would shut the town down? …Thanks. Only if you have the time. I don’t want to f̼̺̈ͪͤͧͩ̀å̦̞͖̏͐̔ͨ͡í̜̱̥͎̗͋ͫ̋̔ͩ̈́l̨͇̫̬̭̰̄ be a bother. memorysurvives

new jersey?

i actually live D̢̄̂̈́͏̺͉̞͕̟͉I̛̗̺̻̐̊ͬ̋̓Ë̪̪̻̘͖̆̒͘Ḓ̵̜̪͍ͫͭ̎̄̎̿̄ͪ̄ ̭̜̘̘̬̈́̄̓͐ͨ̾͘Ơ͍̫͊́̀̾̐͘H̨̼͓̰̮̦̪͔͎̩ͮ̄ͧ̇͂͒ͫ̀ͮ́ ̧͙̗̳͐ͪ͘Ģ̃͆҉̜̗̥͔͚̖̹O̷̴̫̰ͦ͑ͧD̶͚̹̫̳̾̾̆̆̽͗̌ͅ ̸̛̛̘̝͍̟̗̥͚ͣͪ̅̂̈́̌ͣ̐̚I͍̓͆̈́ͯ͐ͦ͆͌ ̸̪͒ͩ͒̈̀̿͠D̞̤̠̥̩̞̝̮̉̏̿ͨ̒͐͡I̩̻̬̦̪̋̅ͧĘ̸̷̱̟̺̙̬̀̀͂ͮ̿͒ͩ͛D̅͒̌ͤͮ̋ͮ͏̞͈ close to there. anything specific i should search the archives for? details would really help.

Really?

I.  I don’t know, to be honest.  The city is d̢̦̰̻̅̏̎ͮ͌́̈͡ͅȩ̴͈̮̰̄͌̃ͯ͆ͮa̢̤̪ͪ͊ͬ̋d̡̦͈̲͎͔͑̂͒ͧ̍͡.̨̮̬̩ͯ̄͝ ̷̢̥̭̮̣̍ͥͤͦ͠ ̨̙̰͙͕̱̪̮͙͍̾̃̆͛͒̎̌ͬ̀Wͭ̄ͤ̈̈ͤͬ҉̠̠ȓ̦̦͖̝̠͍ͨͣ̕͠o̷̥̲̗̰̺ͥ̈ͩͩ̿̀ͧ̚͡͠n̮̘͕̏͒̓͛ͦ͗̚͡g̡̝͐ͥͩͩ̈̔̚ ͉̖͓̖̹̹͑a̾ͧ͑ͤ̉͏̹̫̀n̡̍ͭ̉̎ͣ͌҉̣͇d̛̯̩͖̟̺̖͉ͦ̌͊ͪ̐̓ͥ̐́ empty ḁ̹̥̟̖͋̍́n͎͙͉͖̋ͤ͜ͅͅd̶̛̜̤̦̼͉̟͓͎̮͛ͪ̓̾ͩ̀̂Ḓ̛͓̞̭̪̺͛͊͑͗̆ͩ̔ͫ͐̚̕͜͢͠Ȩ͙̳͙͖̫͔̬̼̲̙̖̜̗̟̮̦ͯ̉̀̊̓͗ͫ̍̐ͯ͌̅͊͑͘͘͟A̛͈̦̤̭̹̥͓͇̞̠͚̟͓̖̰̙̗ͪͫ̅̍͌̋ͦͨ͑ͩ̀D̯̖̲͉̼͈̱͔͈̬̝͍̱͙͈̊̆̽ͦ̈́͌ͤͦ̃ͯ́͡͝͝.̶̷̩̘̙͙̬̹͑̈́ͯ̀̚.  I was gone.  I was gone for two years f̨͎͚̬̩̦̜̩ͨ͊͗ͯa͎̼ͤͩͥͫ͛̈́͂͝i̭̮̫͙̥̤̬ͬ͒̅͘l̙͚͕̹͈̳ͣ̂͋̂̀ͅe̖̤͚͗̂̄d̼̱̫̒ͤ͌̾ͅ ͂͜ě͙̣̰͑͊͆vͩ̏̋̋ͮ́͞e͎͉̜͖͚͋ͮr̼̦̃ͤ̄̑ͪ͆͠y̲͇o͕̎n̠̝͔̙̈͛̽̎ẽ͕̣͍̈ͨ̑ ̷͔̺͛͌ͮͅi̡̞̳͉̱̱̍̽n̰̠͚͓̠̖ͤͧ̀͡ ̭̀ͅt̻͈ͪ̊̓̇͛ͤ̀ẘͪͭ̈́͋o͈̲̲̦̹̓̅ͥͬ ͍̮̦̥ͭͭ͒̿̌̊y̗͚̣̥ͨ̎ͮ͋͟ͅe̥͔̝͓͂̌̍̂̉ͥa͎̼̯͔̱ȑ̺͍͚̣͛ͧ̇̈̿̽ş͕͚͌́ and when I returned the city was empty.  Maybe there was a bomb?  A war ả͍̰̮̯̭̐͑ ̡̫̣͇͍̣̫̤̬̿ͭ͞t̪̠̼̙̺͉̰̣ͭͯ̓͡ȅ̖̻̞̖̟̟ͮ͑͠͡r͙͉̳͉̝̀ͨ͆͡r̷̵͚͙̘̞̟̫̦͉ͧ̌̄̀ͯ̆ȋ͉̜̝̯̖̲̹̲̕ͅb̨͙̩̳ͣ͗̽ͧ͠l̈́̌̀ͣ͋̿̈́҉̠̝e̵̝͈̦̼̞͖̤͗͐̎̍,̶̘͍̗̖̖͙͙͒ͪ ̧̯̬̙̪͓̞̖̳̪̐ͥ̆ͩͨṭ̨͚̟̔̀͆̅̚͜ḛ̖̻̟͎̥͇̰ͭ͛ͦŗ̶̫͙̞̋ͤ̋̊͌͋͒̓͠ȑ̛̻̮̟̅́̎̊̏ͦ̔̌̕͠i̷̷̶̤̼͔͙̜̟͈͕̫̒̐̓͌̑̚b͍͎̩͉͛̿̐̍̑̇̿ͦl̷̘̙̭̘̱̯̑̍e̡̧͍̰̖͙͕͎̮͑̇͆ͯ͛͢ͅ ͖̣̫̤̙̒̃͗ͨ̚͢͜w͔͔̲̣͙͔̳̆̽̽͒̍ă̬̻̦̟̰͍̞͗̒͊ͫ̌r̟̀ͦ̊̂͗̐,̨̙̗͖͓̓͆̂̅͂̋̆̚͞ ̶̫͕̗̘̑̂̆̽w̍̎͏̢̯̟̮̤̜͇͝ͅh̲̲̳̟͈̉̇̉ͥ̌̿ͦͅe̴ͮͭ̈ͬͨͬͫ͂͆͢͏̝̖̺̗̘͇̘̞ͅṛ̲̬̯̖ͬ̆ͧe̋̓̈́̈́̋҉̢͉̥͓̞̖̦̗̣̩ ̛̛̣̖̘̙͖ͪͅe̡̧͔̯̯͆͑̍ͬ̀͆v̵̱͙̱̙̥̭̹̎̓͑͐͜ê̡̟̓͒̓̀ͣͥͣr͚̻̗̱͕̂̃ͮͫ̆͂̀ͭý̴̴͍͍̲͇̱ͮ̍̓ͮ̐ͥ͜ͅö̥͎͕ͩ͒ͨ͌̽́́n̢̛̹̯̗ͩͬ͂̋̋ͥ̔̎e̬̖ͨͪ̈̆̎̿ ̣̰̭ͪ͊ͩ̎d̸̩̫̱̓̀̀î̗̠͇̓ͬ̐͆̀̀͘ḛ̶̤̫̗̤̈́ͪ̐ͩ͗̃̀͗̓dͦ̈́̇̈́ͪ̚҉̦̳̲͈̼̳͢ ̷̦̞̩͕̫̲͌̋͋͑͐̚͘D̵͈̝͚̭̎ͯ͑͑̽̂̌͆ͅI̵̛̞̝͇͆͝Ě͏̩̠̹D̶̛̬̜͖̬̫͇̾̈́̎͆̋ͪ̏͝ ̫̤͙̙̖͖̜̇ͩ̋ͤ̎̏̎̓̿͢͝d̷̨͓͍̞͍̬̙ͬ̒̇̀ ͔̠͇̹̖̦̳̅̈́i̶̞̟͒ͧ͂͂͞ ͒ͨͪ͗̓͗͏̣͖e̸̹̠̱̘͔̦̤͉̓̄̔̕ ̴̦̜̤ͤ̇͌͞d̖̠̟̣̩͕͊ͪ͑̐͌̏̾̏͊͜͟.̸̣͉̺͗̀̈́̂͑?  I.  Don’t know.

It stays overcast for what has to be hours but time never seems to change.  The bookstore itself seems in more or less good condition but the books are all much older than they should be and none are cared for.  Dust piles high and spiders lurk in the corners.  All the wards Allison remembers, hidden in all the places no one but her and DeWitt would know to look, are gone or angrily crossed out with old paint.  No one is around and there is no sound but the faint buzzing in her head, the start of what Allison assumes will be a very bad headache.

The rest of the store fairs much worse than the front.  The stairs that once led to the upstairs apartment are rotted away, broken into shards that stick out angrily in the dark hall, lit only by a hastily scrawled sigil in the palm of Allison’s hand, casting a chilling blue glow over everything in sight.

The lock to the office, DeWitt’s office, is broken and no amount of pushing on the door, though it creaks, will make it budge.  She writes off the office as a loss, hoping there is nothing important inside.  The numerous books on rickety shelves get one last glance as Allison again heads for the door.  The front window is boarded and it looks as though, until recently, the door was boarded as well, from the inside.  There rests a plank nearby, dirty and uneven, nails poking out of it haphazardly and glinting in the half light.

Once again Allison leaves the store.  There’s nothing out there, not without breaking in somewhere, and she’s not quite that desperate yet, but there is the alley behind the store.  She hopes the fire escape is still there, isn’t rotted away like so much else.  Her hopes are rewarded when she rounds the dark corner, the ladder to the fire escape pulled down and the door to the upstairs apartment, where the fire escape doesn’t quite reach, is planked over with boards that look new enough, strong enough, to hold her weight.

Allison extinguishes the sigil drawn in her hand and begins the treacherous climb.  The metal groans beneath even her meager weight and Allison quickens her ascent, grabbing onto the door handle and practically flinging herself inside when it pushes so easily open.  The stairs are spared a glance and only that before she’s up again, rubbing the bridge of her nose to stem her headache before pulling her chalk from her pocket and drawing another light sigil in her hand.

The upstairs is far worse than the store below.  Everything lies in disarray.  The lights refuse to work and papers are scattered everywhere, the few remaining bits of furniture broken and overturned.  The lack of wards in the apartment sends a chill up her spine.  There’s graffiti on the walls, mostly incomprehensible scrawlings.  They don’t look like any wards or sigils Allison knows, just a mess.  She frowns.

Shuffling through the papers at her feet turns up nothing of importance, just pages of old books and blacked out flyers, things that she can’t read and suspects she couldn’t even in better lit conditions.  Making her way down the narrow hall, careful not to tumble down the broken staircase that lies in the middle of it, Allison makes her way to the kitchen.  There’s a terrible smell there and Allison refuses to investigate further; she honestly does not want to know what could produce such a smell.  Ceramic crunches under her feet as she moves on to the bedroom, the door opening with a deafening creak.

By contrast, the bedroom is almost tidy.  The bed has no sheets and the mattress is curiously stained but there is a squat bookcase beside it with unlabeled books and the desk by the window, boarded up of course, looks like it still could be of use.  Allison explores the bookcase first, finding nothing but blank books.  By the seventh book she’s prepared to give up flipping through, not wanting to waste more time, when an envelope falls out.  It’s addressed to her, written in DeWitt’s precise cursive.
She slams the book closed and tears open the envelope immediately.  DeWitt had always been a tricky man and she wouldn’t put something like this past him, to leave her clues, to lead her to safety indirectly but only if she’s clever enough, strong enough, good enough.

‘Welcome Home Allison’

- ‘We are waiting for you.  The town, as I am sure you have seen, is a shade of it’s former self.  Once you get here, I will explain what has happened in your absence.  I would suggest reading up,though you may never be ready for what awaits you.  Welcome home, Allison.  We are waiting.  The city is empty but for a few strays.  You may be able to find a companion.  Come to City Hall.

T. DeWitt’-

Allison frowns hard down at the letter in her hand.  DeWitt always liked to goad her, to be cryptic and demeaning.  She crumples the letter angrily, ready to toss it before thinking better of it.  She smoothes the abused paper and goes to the desk to search for anything else, wondering why DeWitt would stay in a supposedly abandoned town, why he would wait in the City Hall when he surely couldn’t know when she would return.
The desk yields nothing useful, just a lighter that Allison pockets and a worn old army bag.  She slings the bag over her shoulder, stuffing an old box of chalk with mostly used pieces scavenged from the bookcase inside.  It’d be good to be prepared, she figures.

Walking out of the room, something clatters loudly to the floor.  It makes Allison jump and she turns to face the room once more only to see that a board has fallen from the window and crashed to the floor.  She scowls at the offending plank and picks her way back out to street level.

She needs supplies.  She’s not sure what she should be reading up on exactly, but she’s got an idea and she knows, as the sky continues to darken, she’ll need more light than a single sigil scribbled in the palm of her hand can provide.

Allison spares the gathering clouds a glance before once more heading deeper into the town.

003

The town is gray and overcast.  It’s too light to be evening but I still find myself unable to account for the absent̬̹̬͉h͍͕e̡̻̬̜̥̯̬y͓̹͎̭̬’̸̫̟r̵̭̤e ̶̯̼̼͔̲̳a̛̲̼̙l̤l̝̻̖̭̭̠͡ ̰̺̤̩̫͘ͅg̝̙̹̦̀o̞̬̥̹͚̥n͚̰̩̥̞̱e̖ce of everyone.  It’s grave silent on the streets for blocks in every direction and no lights a̻͉̲̮̫̪r̖̕e͈̦ ̨̠̹̤o̴̟n̴,̵ ͍̟̮̖͈͟n̘̙̘͉͙̻̬obo͇̜̳̙̝̣ḓy͖’̻͈s̤̼̝̬͎̘̟ ̖̫̖̱̞͚ͅh͔o̤̩͕̗͢ṃ̨̣e̠̮͈͚̖̤̘.͖̫ͅ in any windows deț͓̫́͘ͅh͉͔e̢̻̤͓ͅy̪̟̳̙̦͔͙͎’҉͏҉̺͎̜̯̪̠̤r҉̪̥͈̙͔͎e̢̺͚ ̵͔̲á̡̙̥̬͉̟̠̟̞͈l͍͜ͅl̡̧̝̹̥̦͓̬͖ ͙̳d̗͉͠ȩ̩̠͍͚̭ͅa̩d̶͍spite the creeping c̻͈̘̝̭͇̘r̦̯̯á͖w̖̬̲̠̫̭̹͝ḷ̠̀i̷n͉̲͡g̵̮͉̠̬̜̟s̸̬̳̤̏̀͗̕e̡̠̥̩̬̺͗̋̏̉ĕ̵͍̮̠̱͔̗̗̎͜p̬͍̯̻̄̏̔̂̃ͩͤ̊͘͘i͍̯͌̓̉͛͝n̲͉̮̾̿̂̄̌ͬ͋ͣ͐g͎͈ͪ̓ ̱͙̣̝̪̬͋͘B͉̺̗̠͗ͤ̊̑͋̅͋͞L̳̩͎̞͊̄ͣͤͅÃ̴̻͙̫̱̳̣̤ͩ̏ͯͩͮ͌C͙̫͔͉̝̱̦͉̈͘̕Ķ͔͔͕͖̲̃̑̈ darkness.

It looks like rain.

If this is my homed̫̲̩̹͕͕͍̊̌͞ỉ͙̻̫̦̦̼̅ͨ̏e͓̘̘̠̭͜ͅd̤̜̲̼͔ͨ ̇̐̈́ͫͣ̏҉͚̟͈̯w̛̜̥̬͚̔ͅi͎͇̝̿ͤ̎̊̈́̇ͅṱ̵̪̗̝̼͛̚h̨̗̭̬̒͂͋ ̞̦͐̋t̢̗͎̰̱̟͂̅̇ĥ͉̮̫ë̦̼̳̻̳̳̈́ͪḿ̘͙̩̗̬͓̪͐̀, my origin, something terrible may have happened in my two year absence.  I’m going to look around the bookstore, see if DeWitt left anyaͯ̇̇̒̀́ͫl̛̂̿ͥ̔l̡ͤ̋͗͌ ̴̏̋̃́ͦ͑t̋͘hͫ͒̈́̇̊ͣ͏â̊ͮ̅̐ͦt̾̎̊̃͂’ͦͮ̐̓͐̚͢s͌͐̒̓ͬ͛̚ ͌l̶͂͋̿ͨ͗̊̎eͬ͊͑f̉̐̊̇̋̚t̔̋̎̕ ̎̇nͩ͐̿͟ő̑͡w̋̍̽ͬ̅ͪthing behind, anything I can use to piece together what happened.  He used to keep a journal.  I will start looking for that.

This silenn̜̋͛̋ͩ̎̽̌͝ȯ̶̼͕̱̪̓i͈͔̩̪͓͞s͇͉̺̥͈͔̜ͫͣ̂͑̋̈e̗̙̪̼̟ce is becoming unbearable.  I will also look for DeWitt’s radio.  I can only tab̬̫̪͍͇̠ͦͤ̈̍̅ͪͮ͗͋͟͜e̶̖̘͇̤͓̭̤ͪ̅͌ͮͅr̗̙̮̫̖̝͆̏͂̓̓͋̏͝ả̴̯͕̙̲̫͉͖̿͊ͩͫ̈́̕t͐̾ͭͪ̈́͆ͪ҉͇̭̖̕e̫̠͉̪̤ͪͯͥͦ̿̋͛̓̽͠lk to myself for so long.  I will also charge my PDA.  Maybe someone else, someone from this same origin?  Maybe they can tell me what happened.

002

It’s very quiet here.  The bookstore seems to have been untouched in my absence but that’s w̢̟̥̩̙̪̮̭͖ŗ̶̧̺̦͙͎̳̣̮͎͓o̧̪̥̮̩͎̩͍̕n̨̨̬̘̞͉̫ģ͍ not possible.  I’ve been gone for two years.  Iá̻̬̜͚̠͕͙b̶̟̥͓͎̩̪̘̯͝a̤̳n̶͔̯̗̩̥̣̱d̖̤͍̤͓̱̤o̶̫̦̪͎̬̥̳͞n̨̺̮̜e̵̺̹̺͢d҉̩̫̘̺̭̜̭̥͈ ̴̶͈͇̟̥͔͚t̶͉̗̝̹h͎͖͜͠͞e̢͖̦̞̱m̧̺̤̩̯͖̮̜͞’ve been gone so long.

I’m going to look for DeWitt.  I can’t try to get back to Fifth now.  ̡̨̛̜͕̪̱ͅr̨̜͚͙̙̞̬̞͠a̧̺̤͓̙̪͇̫n̛̰̯͚̩̥͓̺͞ ̛̬̬̺͎̥̤a̛͇̩̱̫̝̭̥͢͠w̵̰̙͕͉͉̤̝̤͜͜ḁ̱̠̳̱̼y̝̳̩͞͠ ̝̤̮̤̱̝͉̘a̛͚̝̹̲g̸̮a̰̝͍̳̣͘í̷̻̤̠̞̱͠ͅṇ̵͘͠.҉̭͎̥ ̝̖͙͢ ̴̣̯̠A̟̦̝̱͉̣̠͓̬͠l̤͟ẉ̳̞̹̺̝͉̩͟á̸̫̘̪͙y̱̣̳̯͝s̸̲̝̦̥̦̠̦̕͟ͅ ̲͚͇̦͚̞͓́͘ͅr̯̟̱͉̟͠ͅṷ̵̳͍͈n͍͔n͙̞͇̠͍̤͔̟i͕͓͓͟n҉̖̖̩̯̝̬̮g̦̝͎̼̝͔̗̺͝.̶̖̯͠ͅ  There’s nothing I can do there.  I á̻̬̜͚̠͕͙b̶̟̥͓͎̩̪̘̯͝a̤̳n̶͔̯̗̩̥̣̱d̖̤͍̤͓̱̤o̶̫̦̪͎̬̥̳͞n̨̺̮̜e̵̺̹̺͢d҉̩̫̘̺̭̜̭̥͈ ̴̶͈͇̟̥͔͚t̶͉̗̝̹h͎͖͜͠͞e̢͖̦̞̱m̧̺̤̩̯͖̮̜͞ know that.  I do.

I’m going to go have a look around town and see what I might see.  Maybe there is a parade or something on.  That would explain the quiet.  I don’t even know the date so it’s entirely possible.  I’m going to look.  Wish me luck.

001

Once upon a time there was a girl that didn’t speak because she was angh̕͟҉͍̺a̧͕̞͙̕t̼̳̭̪̤ͅḛ̶̹̠̣̥̱͢ ͏̱̼̘͖͘ͅh̢̛̤̤̙̻͈̠̱a̘̦̫̹͉̳t̜͇̫̼̞ͅe̠̺͙̥͈ ̘̝H̵̗̮A̶̝͙̟̖͓̭͚͇T̞͚͈̬͔͘͠E̡͜͏̯̜ ̸̗͠ͅÁ̡̙̖͚̖̣͎͍̩N̛̛̼̱͚̣̤G͎̖̦E̯̞̼R̟̼̞̩̹͈̝͠ ҉̬̹͙͇͎͇̩͢ͅH̢̨̫̰̥̘̦͓A̜̩͔̭͔T̺̭̲͕͕̀ͅR̴̳̖̹̬̹̬͍͔͓Ȩ̪̪̥͓ͅD̶͇̳ry at the whole wide world. This could only go on for so long. Boredom and a woman named Imogene Hart crushed the girl’s resolve and she spoke! But she wasn’t very good at it. Her mouth was far too big for such a tiny girl and there was a terr̀b̶̭͎̣r͉ò͕͙̲̥͖͔̦k̞̟̫e̪̬͓ņ̘̳̣̣̹͓ͅ. ̭͓̩c̢͖̥̪͈͈͈r̲̝̤i̶͓͙pp̻̘l̵͖̫͙e͕͠d͏̣̖͈̯ ҉̦͎̗͇̼a͓̠̠̥̤n̛̗̫d̙̗̟ ͏̩͕̭͎̙̼̖b̢̩̗̙̬̘̙͉r̶̜͙̱̜̠o͚̥͙̝̬̤k̯̞͖̫̞͍e̩͜n̻͖̩ ҉̩̗̩̝͉̝a͖̼͡n̶̙̮͓̼͚̫̞d̰̫̻ ͉̙͍̱͝C̢͚͇̻̭̭͖R͟I͘P̣͖̞PL̶̙E̫̦̪̭̩͖̞D͓̣̀.̱̱ible accident.

She got sent away then where she lived happily e͈ṯ̵̠͕̺͚̥̗h͍̠͘e̬͉̕r̪̲̘͎͔̯͟é̞͈ ̦̤͔̞̘is̷ ̷͎͍̯̤n̨̰̳̙̰o͕̟̞̦͇ ̡̖̯̰̖͖͓͙s̻̦̳͓̘̯u̫̯c̟͜h̕ ͖̦̝̮̙thi̳̳͚n̳͚͖̺̗̪̳g̜͔̖̘̠͇ver after. For the most part.

She would have been no one special but then there was this book store, Bound For Adventure. She sa̜͔̖͙̟̙̰͔̲̞͉̕e̸҉̷͉̦̥v͈͍͕͙͘ȩ̯ŗ̴̖̹̱͘y͚̫̗̼͖̕ó̻̖n͎̦̙̩͖ͅe̸͔̩͍̹̳͢ ̨̢̛̝̼̲̬̰̮d͉͈̰̜͢ͅi̡̠̹̥̳͔̳̟̩̣è̜͚̠͘d̛̗̜̜͓͔̼w the world. She saw even m҉É̪̬̟͖V̴E͚R̞͙͓͎͟ͅY̮̼͎̱̺̩̕O̻̺͕̜N̞E̵͉̝ ͚͚̰̳͔̰D͉̰̹̀Ì͎̼͕̹͎͇E̱̳̮͟D͎ ̴a̕n̗͜ͅd̞̘͔̠̮̺̖ ͍͈͓̞̟͎̱̕i̪t͕͖̫̰͠’͓̣̼́s̳̣̟͓͎̼̣ ̺̠̻̟͍̰͓͜m̞͇y̙̹͝ͅ ̟͍f̢̯̮͍̮͔a̼̝̹̗͇͈̱͢u͓̠̳̭̫̫͞l͕͇̖̖̞̝̟t̵͉̩̼ore than that. N̷̞̥͎͙̭w̢̟̳͈̦̬h̷̤͈e̳̤̝̯n̦͍ow she is telling a stor̥̜̣͖͞w̲͔̠͟h̴͎̰̬͖̹e̦̬̳͢ǹ͍̬̬ͅ ̩w̦̠i͖̰̳̜̖̞͔l̺̻͍̪̖̩̩l͕͎̥͔̝̞̝ ͈͕̩͓̪̮i̛̮͚̗̪t͓ ̻E͕̹̠͇̖̻ͅǸ͈D̶y.