The Mossflower - File: Prologue
We rode through town together in the backseat of his auto. Clattered we past patches of street dark and lamplight, Dannyboy and us his Chivers, us his Deborahs, us fickle lilyborn chellovecks, milkbottles in hand and alternating smots up the nebula as we waited for the sun to rise. Under caramel lighting his hair took on this ominous tone, like sparkling way-of-the-water gleaming, real jolly. And none was more careful than I whenever this loafer needed facing down, as the dialogue beneath should demonstrate:
F: Deborah moy.
F: Pray tell the endgame of this fine outing.
D: Like it isn’t obvious? [Sideways glance.] Nah, Félix. You’re cool. Sad to say it, but wigged it I have; the Chivettes are busy and I was going to see if I could rack up some fine sookas for the night, but it’s just too. Hell. Cliché. Consider us on patrol. We Chivers must take care of our territory. Gives it an hour, m’lads [Serge groans from the side.] and then to home sweet home we go.
F: Sure thing, Danny, I viddy horrorshow.
I tried, anyway. The answer?
D: No one says that anymore.
And like we scarleted on back home. So it goes.
Name: Félix [███████]
My name is Félix and I am eighteen years old. I study the bac L and live with my mother and am a proud Chivers, alongside my good friends Max, Serge, and Dan. Everyone else I love is dead.
Journaling hasn’t been en vogue for years, so I’m excited to see what I can make of this. This diary was started on the second of July. I only write like this because the sun’s out at the moment and I’m in class, but in approximately twenty minutes, school will be out for summer. Honestly, I can’t wait, which probably explains why I am writing now and not later.
Fondest greetings to you all! I hope we’ll get along.