Last Friday, the evening tides carried in more debris than usual, including several dead bodies (unidentified and now buried). It appears that a small ship of unknown origin hit the rocks on our north coast. Various intrepid folk have been out to the wreck, bringing back all kinds of interesting goods. I remind all readers that scavenging rules are simple – finders keepers. Anything washed up on the beaches belongs to the person who manages to make off with it. Rumours of coffee and chocolate led to scenes of brawling over the weekend, but no lasting damage done. Mithra Stubbs at the Black Swann Bakery claims to have shipwreck coffee for sale, by the mug. Having sampled it myself, I can’t say that it tastes any different from the stuff she usually sells. Perhaps this means that Mithra’s ersatz coffee is especially convincing. I wouldn’t want to suggest outright that one of our fair citizens might be lying through her teeth, but there is scope for doubt here.
Would be councillors – 19
Fruit Throwers – 27
For those inclined to be democratic, it should be noted that the fruit throwers outvoted, and outpelted the pro-council contingent. Special mention should be made of Politeness Jones and his wheelbarrow full of dedication to self determination! There will be no council. Citizens, I was proud to be there!
Our island was settled with a spirit of independence and self reliance. We get things done by co-operating with each other, not by putting people in charge. We are all equals, and we should keep it that way! Our founding fathers are probably turning in their graves at the thought of ‘democracy’. I am surprised their shades have not yet risen up to challenge this modern lack of sense and moral courage!
I appeal to you to stay away from the meeting at the Town Hall this Friday, where the self righteous amongst us will be trying to persuade you to give up your right to self determination. If you must go, do so with anger, and a good supply of rotten vegetation.
On Thursday of last week, I woke to find my house in utter darkness. By my watch, it was early morning, and wondering at the lack of light, I lit a candle and drew back the curtains. Beyond the window was darkness, and in the darkness there were eyes. The vision was horrible beyond words, but I checked other windows and found the same. I confess, dear readers, to feelings of terror and did not venture beyond my door. I could only imagine what nightmare had befallen our town.
I might have remained cowering in my house for more than the three days I endured, had it not been for the timely arrival of Jesper Peeps bringing old paper back for reuse. I was persuaded that however things may appear, it was safe to venture out. While my house had been covered in what I can only describe as an infestation, life in Hopeless appeared otherwise untroubled. Darkly furred things clung to every available surface, blotting out the light while their hideous eyes stared in upon me.
Why did this nameless dread affix itself to my windows? Is there meaning behind it, or just the whim of fate? Annamarie Nightshade sold me a charm which did indeed remove them, but she refused to comment on what they might be, or why they had attached themselves to my home.
It is not the habit of this reporter to write himself into the news. I aspire to be nothing more than a careful observer, but circumstances this week mean I know nothing beyond my own experience. I cannot include births, deaths or marriages, having spent too long a prisoner in my own home, and the rest of the week removing the creatures that had taken me hostage!
I can’t imagine anyone missed the major event of last week, but as nothing else of note happened, I’m reporting it anyway as there may be more to this than meets the eye.
On Tuesday night, a bloodstorm swept the island, covering people, buildings and streets. We were lucky in that the rain on Wednesday washed away the worst of it. I consulted Doc Willoughby who confirmed that the red rain was definitely blood, but he could not say if it was animal or human. Where did all the blood come from? Does it represent some unimaginable horror that has happened beyond the boundaries of our beloved island? How could so much blood have become airborn, with no trace of any bodyparts? I fear this latest mystery may go unsolved, but if you have possible answers, do share them.
Once again the Jones’s opened Meadow Farm to the public to share the delights of spring. Families flocked to see flowers, chicks and lambs. Nothing quite equalled last year’s mutant goat, but the three legged chickens were as popular as ever. Other attractions included the traditional pie fight, a tour of the farm and assorted contests. The spitting contest was won by Ethan Miller while the wife carrying contest was won by Reginald Aubergine. However, this caused some controversy as Mrs Asumpta Aubergine is of course dead, and as a ghost, weighs nothing and cannot technically be carried, which many feel gave him an unfair advantage. No prize was given for best cake, as the cakes were enlisted in attempts to solve the problems over the wife carrying contest. Whether cake throwing will replace pie throwing for next year remains to be seen! This reporter feels that the jam involved provided a nice change from the less appetising pie contents we get most years.