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Bernard's Journal - by Andrew Finch, World Traveler
February 18, 1872
Fourth entry
My dear friends! So much has happened since I last wrote! I thought I had lost this journal, but it was at the bottom of my hurriedly packed luggage. I assume that you will want to know what possible could have happened to cut my last entry so short, so I shall elaborate. As far as I can guess, there was some kind of accident during a skirmish directly outside The Wall, causing a passage to be formed with, I assume, explosives. Waiting outside this passage was an army of Hollow Men, who slowly meandered through the gap and threw themselves at the nearest bystander.
Personally, I have never laid eyes on a Hollow Man before, and I was shocked by their appearance. Imagine a corpse wearing rags, horribly disfigured, with rotten features, and limbs twisted at odd angles by the horrors of The Final War. It lurches and writhes with an inhuman gate, gurgling and groaning as it does so. One of these abominable monsters lunged at me, and I thought myself doomed before Connor dispatched the vile thing with a shot to the head from the silver pistol that I had supplied him with. Next he grabbed my stunned self quite roughly as he dragged me away from the approaching horde. I recovered my wits after a few moments, and was all too happy to follow the lad’s instructions. He led us away from the wall and deeper into the city. I soon realized that we weren't heading towards the airship’s docking bay, and asked my assistant as much.
“During a panic like this we’ll get squashed by the crowds!” He said, his voice roughened by his cockney accent, “that’ll only attract more Hollow Men! Y’never follow the crowds in a Hollow attack!” I realized then and there how little I knew when it came to a crisis. I have spent the majority of my life wealthy and prosperous, and although I have earned the comforts that I supply myself with through my ingenious mechanical designs, and I once knew the terrors of battle during the Final War, I have degraded into a nothing more than a helpless child who depends on others to do the heavy lifting.
Connor dragged me through streets and alleys until we found ourselves at the now deserted World Fair. It was obvious that it had been abandoned in a hurry; things were strewn about all over the place, and many a stall used for selling knickknacks or various forms of exotic foods had been toppled over. I heard the wails of a few of the beasts coming our way, and we hurried deeper into the fair. It was then that we heard a cry of alarm coming from a tent to our left and, without thinking, I rushed towards the noise, the will to help overcoming reason. Before Connor could stop me, I had rushed through the canvas door and into the scene within. I found a young woman wearing the grey overalls of a city mechanic brandishing a wrench at a Hollow Man, who had fallen facedown into the cockpit of a small mechanical aeroplane, probably some sort of prototype.
To my credit, I acted with reflexes I had thought long since gone, and drove my pneumatic leg into the despicable creature. My artificial appendage groaned and hissed in protest, but the high quality bronze held fast. The monster made a sort of rasping gurgling noise as it grabbed at me, but before it could strike the mechanic struck it over the head with her wrench. It reached up and clawed at my leg one last time as the life left its body. My moment of heroism over, the reality of what I had done struck me in full force, and I felt quite ill as Connor angrily told me off for such brash behaviour. The mechanic, thanked me for my help, and it was only after I got a good look at her that I realized that I had seen her face before.
“I met you just the other evening!” I exclaimed in surprise, “you were setting up lights! What are you doing in the middle of the World Fair at a time like this?”
“I’m trying to not get eaten!” was her response, “now help me get this bird into the air!” She gestured at the small prototype aeroplane, which could hold four passengers in its beetle shaped body and supported itself upon two different sets of wings. I realized the mechanic’s plan in an instant and set to work fiddling with the intricate mechanisms that made up the aeroplane’s inner workings. Connar fended off the fiends as we worked, and It wasn’t long before, with a sputter and a cough the small craft’s experimental engine sprung to life. The engineer, whose name I would later learn to be Jules, tossed me a small wrench and ordered me to check on the air-rudder or “tail” of the craft as she began on the wings.
The Hollow Men began to come in larger groups as they heard the rumble of the aeroplane. Perhaps they somehow knew that their prey was about to escape. Perhaps it was simple curiosity that lead them towards us. Perhaps these foul husks hadn’t enough of their minds left to think, and had wandered to us through pure chance. I did not pause to consider such things as Connor's gunshots began to grow more frequent. The lad rushed into our tent, battered and bloodied, as we made the final preparations to our escape plan.
“Out ah bullets,” he uttered through swollen lips, “the Hallows nearly got me but I managed to slow them down. They’ll be here in a few minutes.” The tail oiled and prepared, I hurried back around to the front of the machine, the others would expect me to possess the know-how needed for this venture. My fingers trembled as I climbed into the aircraft’s piloting-seat. I confess that I had not piloted an aeroplane since The Final War, and had never encountered controls like these. I hoped that the control-stick and gages were similar in purpose to my own designs, and managed to successfully roll the craft forwards a few feet without bursting into flames. I realized my mistake as the Hollow Men’s cries grew dangerously close. I had forgotten about the tent. How was I supposed to fly this aeroplane with such an obstacle in my way? I said as much to my companions in a shriller voice than I would have preferred. Jules yelled at me to “fly the bloody bird before the Hallows get us” so, white as a sheet, I pulled a brass lever and felt the areoplane jump into motion. It didn’t leave the ground, but It still rolled along at quite a frantic speed. The only problem was the direction with which the craft deigned to move. It went backwards. We zipped out the tent flap and barreled straight into a hoard of Hollow Men that had amassed during Connor's absence.
There was a terrifying moment where I found myself surrounding these horrifying monsters. I quickly realized my error and wrenched the lever in the opposite direction while pulling on the control-stick. The two sets of wings began to buzz as we were propelled from the ground, a few Hollow Men attempted to hold on to our craft as we ascended, but they were quickly repelled by both Connor and Jules’ strikes. It wasn’t until a few moments later that I realized I had no idea where I should be going. The aeroplane had no guiding tools, such as a compass and I soon found myself hovering above the wastelands of Southern Eastern. Stranded, I had no choice but to keep flying. Like a boat lost in the ocean, we had to keep moving forwards and hope for hospitable lands.
After almost a day of flight, we ended up crash landing near Germany, and purchasing a ticket on an airship from the recovering town of Munich. After a long, tedious trip through stormy skies, we landed in Southern Africa and stayed in a small community known as “Fish Hoek” outside of Cape Town for two weeks. We visited Table Mountain, where a great white cloud rests almost indefinitely on its stony top. Connor enjoyed taking an early morning swim each day, but was told to watch out for sharks whilst doing so. I took it upon myself to set Jules under my tutelage, and she aided me well in my various experiments and plans for many a mechanical marvel. We were assaulted once by baboons, but the beasts seemed more curious than callous. We prepare now to take a small trip through the wasteland once known as Namibia, where we shall camp out on the Great Dunes. I look forwards to this with a mix of excitement and apprehension. I’ll write some more after I return. Toodle-oo!
Fourth entry
My dear friends! So much has happened since I last wrote! I thought I had lost this journal, but it was at the bottom of my hurriedly packed luggage. I assume that you will want to know what possible could have happened to cut my last entry so short, so I shall elaborate. As far as I can guess, there was some kind of accident during a skirmish directly outside The Wall, causing a passage to be formed with, I assume, explosives. Waiting outside this passage was an army of Hollow Men, who slowly meandered through the gap and threw themselves at the nearest bystander.
Personally, I have never laid eyes on a Hollow Man before, and I was shocked by their appearance. Imagine a corpse wearing rags, horribly disfigured, with rotten features, and limbs twisted at odd angles by the horrors of The Final War. It lurches and writhes with an inhuman gate, gurgling and groaning as it does so. One of these abominable monsters lunged at me, and I thought myself doomed before Connor dispatched the vile thing with a shot to the head from the silver pistol that I had supplied him with. Next he grabbed my stunned self quite roughly as he dragged me away from the approaching horde. I recovered my wits after a few moments, and was all too happy to follow the lad’s instructions. He led us away from the wall and deeper into the city. I soon realized that we weren't heading towards the airship’s docking bay, and asked my assistant as much.
“During a panic like this we’ll get squashed by the crowds!” He said, his voice roughened by his cockney accent, “that’ll only attract more Hollow Men! Y’never follow the crowds in a Hollow attack!” I realized then and there how little I knew when it came to a crisis. I have spent the majority of my life wealthy and prosperous, and although I have earned the comforts that I supply myself with through my ingenious mechanical designs, and I once knew the terrors of battle during the Final War, I have degraded into a nothing more than a helpless child who depends on others to do the heavy lifting.
Connor dragged me through streets and alleys until we found ourselves at the now deserted World Fair. It was obvious that it had been abandoned in a hurry; things were strewn about all over the place, and many a stall used for selling knickknacks or various forms of exotic foods had been toppled over. I heard the wails of a few of the beasts coming our way, and we hurried deeper into the fair. It was then that we heard a cry of alarm coming from a tent to our left and, without thinking, I rushed towards the noise, the will to help overcoming reason. Before Connor could stop me, I had rushed through the canvas door and into the scene within. I found a young woman wearing the grey overalls of a city mechanic brandishing a wrench at a Hollow Man, who had fallen facedown into the cockpit of a small mechanical aeroplane, probably some sort of prototype.
To my credit, I acted with reflexes I had thought long since gone, and drove my pneumatic leg into the despicable creature. My artificial appendage groaned and hissed in protest, but the high quality bronze held fast. The monster made a sort of rasping gurgling noise as it grabbed at me, but before it could strike the mechanic struck it over the head with her wrench. It reached up and clawed at my leg one last time as the life left its body. My moment of heroism over, the reality of what I had done struck me in full force, and I felt quite ill as Connor angrily told me off for such brash behaviour. The mechanic, thanked me for my help, and it was only after I got a good look at her that I realized that I had seen her face before.
“I met you just the other evening!” I exclaimed in surprise, “you were setting up lights! What are you doing in the middle of the World Fair at a time like this?”
“I’m trying to not get eaten!” was her response, “now help me get this bird into the air!” She gestured at the small prototype aeroplane, which could hold four passengers in its beetle shaped body and supported itself upon two different sets of wings. I realized the mechanic’s plan in an instant and set to work fiddling with the intricate mechanisms that made up the aeroplane’s inner workings. Connar fended off the fiends as we worked, and It wasn’t long before, with a sputter and a cough the small craft’s experimental engine sprung to life. The engineer, whose name I would later learn to be Jules, tossed me a small wrench and ordered me to check on the air-rudder or “tail” of the craft as she began on the wings.
The Hollow Men began to come in larger groups as they heard the rumble of the aeroplane. Perhaps they somehow knew that their prey was about to escape. Perhaps it was simple curiosity that lead them towards us. Perhaps these foul husks hadn’t enough of their minds left to think, and had wandered to us through pure chance. I did not pause to consider such things as Connor's gunshots began to grow more frequent. The lad rushed into our tent, battered and bloodied, as we made the final preparations to our escape plan.
“Out ah bullets,” he uttered through swollen lips, “the Hallows nearly got me but I managed to slow them down. They’ll be here in a few minutes.” The tail oiled and prepared, I hurried back around to the front of the machine, the others would expect me to possess the know-how needed for this venture. My fingers trembled as I climbed into the aircraft’s piloting-seat. I confess that I had not piloted an aeroplane since The Final War, and had never encountered controls like these. I hoped that the control-stick and gages were similar in purpose to my own designs, and managed to successfully roll the craft forwards a few feet without bursting into flames. I realized my mistake as the Hollow Men’s cries grew dangerously close. I had forgotten about the tent. How was I supposed to fly this aeroplane with such an obstacle in my way? I said as much to my companions in a shriller voice than I would have preferred. Jules yelled at me to “fly the bloody bird before the Hallows get us” so, white as a sheet, I pulled a brass lever and felt the areoplane jump into motion. It didn’t leave the ground, but It still rolled along at quite a frantic speed. The only problem was the direction with which the craft deigned to move. It went backwards. We zipped out the tent flap and barreled straight into a hoard of Hollow Men that had amassed during Connor's absence.
There was a terrifying moment where I found myself surrounding these horrifying monsters. I quickly realized my error and wrenched the lever in the opposite direction while pulling on the control-stick. The two sets of wings began to buzz as we were propelled from the ground, a few Hollow Men attempted to hold on to our craft as we ascended, but they were quickly repelled by both Connor and Jules’ strikes. It wasn’t until a few moments later that I realized I had no idea where I should be going. The aeroplane had no guiding tools, such as a compass and I soon found myself hovering above the wastelands of Southern Eastern. Stranded, I had no choice but to keep flying. Like a boat lost in the ocean, we had to keep moving forwards and hope for hospitable lands.
After almost a day of flight, we ended up crash landing near Germany, and purchasing a ticket on an airship from the recovering town of Munich. After a long, tedious trip through stormy skies, we landed in Southern Africa and stayed in a small community known as “Fish Hoek” outside of Cape Town for two weeks. We visited Table Mountain, where a great white cloud rests almost indefinitely on its stony top. Connor enjoyed taking an early morning swim each day, but was told to watch out for sharks whilst doing so. I took it upon myself to set Jules under my tutelage, and she aided me well in my various experiments and plans for many a mechanical marvel. We were assaulted once by baboons, but the beasts seemed more curious than callous. We prepare now to take a small trip through the wasteland once known as Namibia, where we shall camp out on the Great Dunes. I look forwards to this with a mix of excitement and apprehension. I’ll write some more after I return. Toodle-oo!
Pen and Panel Recommends
Report from Drink The Wild Air, youth writing retreat
- by Alexis Kelly
Hello! During the weekend of March 11-13 I attended a super cool writing camp that I wish to tell you about.
Drink the Wild Air was a refreshment from crowded hallways on busy school days. It provided a peaceful and fun getaway. Upon arrival the spirit was happy, and greetings came immediately, and with love. This year, as usual, there were three classes taught by three lovely adults.
Our fellow RIOite, Sebastien Ringuette who teaches Pen and Panel, taught the only class that brought us into the wilderness, and it was fantastic… and wet (partially melted ice caused puddles). Beginning at the chapel we stuck sticky notes “where the story happened” throughout the forest, ending at the lodge. A cool way to show the mapping of plot that the class was based around. I may have lost a sticky note in the forest…
Another instructor, Jamie Lewis, taught a class entitled “Cheat, Borrow, & Steal” This class taught how to incorporate folklore and classic archetypes and tropes into your writing. It taught us about “The Hero’s Journey” which is really cool. (check out this video summary) and as I said before, archetypes and tropes.
Drink the Wild Air was a refreshment from crowded hallways on busy school days. It provided a peaceful and fun getaway. Upon arrival the spirit was happy, and greetings came immediately, and with love. This year, as usual, there were three classes taught by three lovely adults.
Our fellow RIOite, Sebastien Ringuette who teaches Pen and Panel, taught the only class that brought us into the wilderness, and it was fantastic… and wet (partially melted ice caused puddles). Beginning at the chapel we stuck sticky notes “where the story happened” throughout the forest, ending at the lodge. A cool way to show the mapping of plot that the class was based around. I may have lost a sticky note in the forest…
Another instructor, Jamie Lewis, taught a class entitled “Cheat, Borrow, & Steal” This class taught how to incorporate folklore and classic archetypes and tropes into your writing. It taught us about “The Hero’s Journey” which is really cool. (check out this video summary) and as I said before, archetypes and tropes.
The final class was taught by WordsWorth Director Colin Matty. He taught a class on inspiration. We did breathing exercises, drama games, and writing prompts. Finally we discussed and wrote what inspires us on large sheets of paper while different music played in the background. As the class was about inspiration, it was inspiring.
Other activities included a book swap, in which each camp-goer brought a book and we all swapped. It was a cool opportunity to pick up a book we normally wouldn’t, or just a cool book we’ve never seen or heard of, or haven’t yet received the chance to read.
During lunchtime activity on Saturday the choice was to take part in an epic LARPing battle, or go for a more peaceful walk to the river. I went to the river, and spent some time reading the book I received during the swap as well as a bit of chatting. The fresh air was nice for my city lungs.
We also did campfire. The first night we actually went outside, but it was muddy and dark so the second night we stayed inside. Before campfire the second night we had an open mic. A fantastic opportunity to share your work in one of the safest and supportive environments in existence. A bribe of getting to hear instructors work got almost every one to sign up! Getting to hear and see various peoples’ work was inspiring. There was a drawing of a character from a comic, chapters of novels, little snippets of writing, poetry, and more.
Overall, the camp was uplifting for the slog between last summer's and this summer's WordsWorth creative writing residency, and I urge young writers to try both this and that program at least once. But I do warn you, it’s addicting and this program is a mini WordsWorth which may just get you hooked. If you’re missing writing and can’t find inspiration between WordsWorth and Drink The Wild Air, there is of course, Reality Is Optional Creative Kids' Programming (RIO) and other writing clubs in the tab of our website.
Other activities included a book swap, in which each camp-goer brought a book and we all swapped. It was a cool opportunity to pick up a book we normally wouldn’t, or just a cool book we’ve never seen or heard of, or haven’t yet received the chance to read.
During lunchtime activity on Saturday the choice was to take part in an epic LARPing battle, or go for a more peaceful walk to the river. I went to the river, and spent some time reading the book I received during the swap as well as a bit of chatting. The fresh air was nice for my city lungs.
We also did campfire. The first night we actually went outside, but it was muddy and dark so the second night we stayed inside. Before campfire the second night we had an open mic. A fantastic opportunity to share your work in one of the safest and supportive environments in existence. A bribe of getting to hear instructors work got almost every one to sign up! Getting to hear and see various peoples’ work was inspiring. There was a drawing of a character from a comic, chapters of novels, little snippets of writing, poetry, and more.
Overall, the camp was uplifting for the slog between last summer's and this summer's WordsWorth creative writing residency, and I urge young writers to try both this and that program at least once. But I do warn you, it’s addicting and this program is a mini WordsWorth which may just get you hooked. If you’re missing writing and can’t find inspiration between WordsWorth and Drink The Wild Air, there is of course, Reality Is Optional Creative Kids' Programming (RIO) and other writing clubs in the tab of our website.
Character Creations - by RIO's CPL Central Pod
Gerald Tinkernam (Tink)
26 years old. Caucasian. He understand any machine or Electronic by taking them apart. Writes in his own language, but speaks English. Likes tinkering, inventing, and meeting people. Dislikes working hard and bad piano playing. Self taught. Back Story: After blowing up the boiler in his orphanage trying to increase the water flow, due to a miscalculation. Tink, at the age of 13, slipped away to avoid being arrested.
26 years old. Caucasian. He understand any machine or Electronic by taking them apart. Writes in his own language, but speaks English. Likes tinkering, inventing, and meeting people. Dislikes working hard and bad piano playing. Self taught. Back Story: After blowing up the boiler in his orphanage trying to increase the water flow, due to a miscalculation. Tink, at the age of 13, slipped away to avoid being arrested.
Subject YO5TQ - Lambda
13 years old. Metis. She is analytical, intelligent, and logical. Unable to bond with other humans. She likes trying to escape the lab, collecting plastic utensils from meals, and creating maps and patterns. Back Story: All her life before the lab has been forgotten; however Lambda knows how to talk, and has the knowledge level of a middle-school student.
13 years old. Metis. She is analytical, intelligent, and logical. Unable to bond with other humans. She likes trying to escape the lab, collecting plastic utensils from meals, and creating maps and patterns. Back Story: All her life before the lab has been forgotten; however Lambda knows how to talk, and has the knowledge level of a middle-school student.
Joe
15 years old. Caribbean. She is smart, adventurous, and unafraid. She wears baggy cand torn clothes of a pirate. She disguises herself as a boy to live and work on a nautical pirate ship run by the man she seeks revenge on for the death of her mother.
15 years old. Caribbean. She is smart, adventurous, and unafraid. She wears baggy cand torn clothes of a pirate. She disguises herself as a boy to live and work on a nautical pirate ship run by the man she seeks revenge on for the death of her mother.
Ericka Cardinal (Red Rickey)
16 years old. Half alien race - Pyranian - and half Greek. She is the captain of a space pirate ship from the planet of Pyros. She lights on fire when enraged and sprouts buggy pincers from her face. She likes alcohol, her crew, and octopi. Hates the Armada, high drinking ages, and loud noises. Her hobbies are glass blowing and welding. Back Story: After destroying the Armada, Rickey found herself time traveling to stop the destruction of her least favourite planet, Earth. She really, really hopes this is worth it.
16 years old. Half alien race - Pyranian - and half Greek. She is the captain of a space pirate ship from the planet of Pyros. She lights on fire when enraged and sprouts buggy pincers from her face. She likes alcohol, her crew, and octopi. Hates the Armada, high drinking ages, and loud noises. Her hobbies are glass blowing and welding. Back Story: After destroying the Armada, Rickey found herself time traveling to stop the destruction of her least favourite planet, Earth. She really, really hopes this is worth it.
Jeet
Age 15 years old. East Indian. He is optimistic, has a need to fix broken things, a need to be free from The Company induced slavery, and ADHD. He likes living in space and the sounds of machines. He dislikes the natural gravity of planets. His hobby is trying to master his Captain Rocket yo-yo that he found. Back Story: Jeet ran away from servitude and hid on a space ship where he was caught fixing it instead of hiding.
Age 15 years old. East Indian. He is optimistic, has a need to fix broken things, a need to be free from The Company induced slavery, and ADHD. He likes living in space and the sounds of machines. He dislikes the natural gravity of planets. His hobby is trying to master his Captain Rocket yo-yo that he found. Back Story: Jeet ran away from servitude and hid on a space ship where he was caught fixing it instead of hiding.
WHEN ALL THE CHARACTERS END UP ON THE TIME MACHINE - WHICH IS NOW BROKEN . . .
Tink - Well upon shocking myself nine times, I think I am finally understanding this machine. The ship that abducted me has forced my companionship with a haywired child who reminds me of myself at his age. Bob the Builder would be proud. The ship's captain seems to be a self combusting humanoid, powered by Ethanol in the booze she's constantly drinking (I plan on out drinking her). The prisoner who assaulted me for the time travel device seems to instead be starting at me. To avoid trying to pronounce her name, I now call her Lamb. The pirate, out of all things why a pirate, fighting for gold - weird, seems like a chill dude.
Tink - Well upon shocking myself nine times, I think I am finally understanding this machine. The ship that abducted me has forced my companionship with a haywired child who reminds me of myself at his age. Bob the Builder would be proud. The ship's captain seems to be a self combusting humanoid, powered by Ethanol in the booze she's constantly drinking (I plan on out drinking her). The prisoner who assaulted me for the time travel device seems to instead be starting at me. To avoid trying to pronounce her name, I now call her Lamb. The pirate, out of all things why a pirate, fighting for gold - weird, seems like a chill dude.
Lambda - I can see four other creatures - one is red, two have strange tools, and one of those two shows signs of brain malfunction due to electric currents passing through the brain tissue. A female being with an unusual hat seems intent on making everyone believe that she is, in fact, a male. SOS (spelled with plastic utensils)
Red Rickey - This is annoying. This whole situation is annoying. The Tinker is annoying. The mechanic is annoying. The weird test subject looking kid is beyond annoying in her own creepy silent way. The fact that the only other pirate on this damned ship insists on pretending to be a man is INFURIATING. These stupid Earthlings never make sense. The two mechanics can't stop incessantly chattering about whatever the hell piece of junk they've pulled out of the ship. I can't tell if what they're doing is normal, but considering I've never seen Pisces (my brother) fix things like that, I'm mildly concerned.
Joe - I must be dreaming. I must be crazy. This isn't real. Who are these people? I never thought I'd say this, but I miss the ship. At least that was my family. That Rickey reminds me so much of Captain Oscar. And those two who keep fiddling with those strange machines are moving too quickly. They're making me sick! But that one with the purple hair seems all right. She doesn't talk much, I like that. She kind of reminds me of my mother . . . My mother was quiet in a sad way. The purple haired one has a sadness in her eyes too. Do I have that same sadness in mine?
Jeet - So here we are, in a finally working time travel machine - ready to go anywhere, do anything! So exciting! And finally ANOTHER MECHANIC! Tink is sooo cool. He speaks my language. The purple haired girl calls herself test subject. According to her white tunic, her name is Lambda, but written in the symbol itself. She stares a lot and seems kind of aggressive, but she's stopped trying to steal the time machine, so - cool. Speaking of aggressive, we have two, count them TWO pirates. One who seems half human and half lien is from the future and actually lights on fire! Crazy! The other is an old timey pirate from Earth's past. She looks like a boy, but she's a girl. Anyway, these are my new friends and I think we're going to have a hell of a time exploring, well, time, I guess.
Characters from the RIO Building
Grammar Police
The Shut The Hell Up Tree
The Broshroom
Insomnia
Hope
Insomnia
Grammar Police and Autocorrect
The Ever Falling Narwhal
The Shut The Hell Up Tree
The Narwhalogist
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