NationStates Jolt Archive

Who could lose this entire bag?

Walking up to the front desk and dismayed at the lack of an employee there to give it to, Eric left because he had an appointment to go to. He would return it first thing the next morning. He had rather an enjoyable day at the art museum, if not a little guilty for absconding with the satchel that wasn't his. Tossing it onto his unmade bed, he dashed off to his eye appointment.

Returning with a stronger prescription for his misshapen eyes, he glanced over to the satchel.

No, I shouldn't open it. Well, if I can find who it belongs to, I can take it to them.

Unbuttoning the satchel, he found two notebooks, a large hard-backed book with "Is'gardre" written on the front, and three quill pens in a little wooden case. A little bottle of ink, almost full was in the bottom of the bag.

I hope this wasn't an exhibit at the museum.

Flipping through the notebooks revealed entries written in English, but using some strange date system. Entries like these:

17 Gn. 1207
Kætje came to visit me again. She is such a sweet girl. It really is too bad about her father, though.
12 Hk. 1207
The storms in the area are preventing further development of the surrounding area. I pray they stop before the Time of Planting, or famine will rule the land.

The remaining journal was blank. The hard-backed book however, was full of text, in an entirely undecipherable language. The first page of the book glowed with a strange quality. The more he looked at it, the more it focused. An area revealing several trees and houses built in those trees came into view. Brushing his hand against the panel was a mistake.

He was falling, or at least had the sensation of falling. Falling into a void. Not just the absence of light, but void of matter. And there he was, amongst the trees and bridges between them. And there was not a soul to be found.

Wandering about the trees and the rather elaborate houses, the lack of people made him nervous. Everything in the houses was set up like it might be if someone lives there. There were trinkets out, food out that was just barely going bad, things like that.

So they left in a hurry, or something is awry.

Wandering farther into the forest of trees revealed dry land beneath them. A small ramp led to the ground. He saw what might be another city in the distance.

The book lay in his apartment, still faintly glowing. The satchel and notebooks were taken with him. His co-workers were perplexed at his absence, because he hadn't missed a day for as long as many of them could remember. His mint green sheets peeled back provided a background for the book. His computer was still on, refrigerator door ajar ever so slightly, and his laundry was still in the basement dryer. The police were called and they arrived at his apartment early the next morning. After canvassing the apartment, taking all sorts of pictures, they put the book back on a shelf, not noticing the text wasn't English.

"Well, this got us nowhere. His car is still here, too. None of his credit cards or phone have been used."

Meandering towards the city, he could see lights, and he could hear people.

Maybe someone can help me.

As he got closer, he heard a loud, sharp blast form a horn. Almost instantly, the city fell silent and all the lights went out. He ran as fast as he could to try and get there, but when he did, he found nothing. He walked up the street to find dark houses and stony silence. He knocked on doors, yelled, generally made noise, but to no response. He began to wonder if he had been hallucinating the whole thing and this city was always empty. He knocked on another door, and a pair of eyes peeked out at knee level for a split second before the door slammed shut.

As the sun fell lower and lower and there was no sign of these people welcoming him in, Eric sought a place of refuge. There were no lots or park-like areas for him to sleep in. He would have to look outside of town. Unfortunately, outside of town was just as friendly as the inside of town. Shelter would be hard to come by.