(Correspondence Thread) The Thoughts of the Lonely

[Gale Austin McCenry]

Walking up to a sturdy door that was inside the World's End Grotto, you remembered the blonde telling you to come over today at about noon. You had arrived early and after knocking for several Chimes, you reckoned that the gentleman wasn't home. You pressed your hand against the wood, opening it slowly and looking inside cautiously. The basic room had an absence of anything living. There were few items in the small room such as a bed beside the window, a wooden chair by a desk, a basic dresser and a large amount of pictures and canvases. The bed had a blanket resting on it with a ripped bottom as if the bottom was torn off. Deciding it wouldn't hurt to wait inside, you stepped in the man's home, closing the door behind you. Looking around curiously, you took in the details of the space. Everything was basic. Nothing seemed really special except the canvases and drawings scattered throughout the room's walls. However, the desk seemed to enhance your curiosity. Stepping over to the small brown desk, you took a seat. Both the desk and the chair were sturdy and a shade of brown. Desk :

[Gale Austin McCenry]

The desk's surface contained nothing other then a ink bottle, quill, and a rather small book. The quill wasn't special either, just a basic feather with dried ink on it's tip. You looked at the book and pick it up, carefully as if it was an ancient artifact. The Inside cover had the name "Gale McCenry", which was written in someone else's handwriting. You look on the first page. Written in the same handwriting as his name read,"For your artistic and creative ideas and visions." Placed at the top of the page. Covering most of the page was a rather small hand print placed on the page by ink. You flip to the other side and see another hand print but this one being slightly bigger with longer fingers, obviously done by the artist himself. You don't need much more observation to realize that this book would probably be extremely special to the man. Knowing the hand print and the short hand written notes was from his wife, it was obvious the man would be extremely angered if anything happened to it. You and people like yourself don't know that this sketchbook was actually the blonde's most prized possession, unless you observed further. However, you still treat it with care, turning the page gently to examine the first few pictures of the book. The first page or two was covered with many small, maybe inch tall drawings of different flowers. All scattered randomly across the page at all different angles and directions. A majority of them look childish and unskilled but maybe it was when the artist was of young or an unskilled age. Or maybe it was his wife's hand that drew these simple flowers. Without further thought, you moved on through the book, the small sketches start to grow bigger and start to get a little more complex as you flip the pages, though the skill level of the drawings vary slightly. Some are done like the previous, small flowers and others are more complex. These differences occur because of the mood of the artist but all still seeming to be done by a young or less talented hand at this point. Eventually you get to a page were it covered almost the whole page. You move on, looking through the drawings and pictures, hardly noticing that the skill level in the images have stayed relatively the same and no longer having drastic changes in the quality of the work. The pictures gradually add more detail and the hand drawing obviously being more and more talented but generally staying on the of flowers. You notice after a while that pages have been ripped out, leaving fragments of paper in the binding and the pages get more diverse in themes. The moods of the drawings aren't all that diverse though. All of them seem to have a depressing or saddened look to them, only a few having attempts to even try and be hopeful or happy. The luscious flowers have turned into dead, wilting ones or discouraged buds and all views of the ocean,sky or city have a run down, blank look to them, especially when they are a really rugged, quick sketch, which most are. It's a little before the half way point where you see that the images stop.

[Gale Austin McCenry]

After looking through the sketchbook for quite a while, you set it back down in it's place and you opened the drawer to look inside. Inside the desk was a scattered pile of papers. Each paper hate a date and hand written text on it, probably done by the owner of the room. Your hand moves a few of the old looking papers aside to examine if there was anything at the bottom. Finding nothing at the bottom of the shallow drawer, you pick up a paper instead... The first few papers that were places on top of the pile seemed to be generally in order, or at least dated closely together. One cannot say the same for the rest however. The paper you held in your hand was dated the 62nd of Summer of 512 A.V...

62th Summer, 512 A.V. Today was unquestionably horrendous. The day began relatively well but incorporated several of my daily habits. Fortunately those events were the more favorable half of my day, even with the pain of doing them. I went along with my day recollecting my thoughts about the conversation I had with the professor at the Kelp Bar. Not only did the discussion allow me to acquaintance myself with a fine man such as he, but it also granted me to let a number of my thoughts wonder away from my mind. The abundant weight of thoughts and their influence is often what tears a man apart and I appreciate the man taking some of his valuable time to lend an ear. I can only hope that it won't be the last time I see the professor. But the encounter with a hot tempered redhead left me looking like I was just finishing up a murder a few days later. After her saving me from the fall that would end my meaningless life, she threatened to take it herself. This concluded with me having a sprained ankle, a slice on my side, throbbing in my ear, and a close encounter with losing the limb that every man had. It was an unpleasant experience and I had wished not to be in a similar situation anytime soon. But the turn of events that occurred during my day proved that my wish would not be granted. Having a brief conversation with myself in the forest outside my home, I was able to grasp the pleasures of the day so far. The weather was enjoyable, the walk was always a treat, and spending some time with someone else, even if they cannot talk back, was comforting. The walk back was just as delightful as the walk to the growth of trees. After settling down and attempting solicit my artwork, I concluded that I was going to extend my excellent mood to last throughout the day. After decreasing the inventory on my person by dropping off my sketches at the World's End Grotto, I allowed myself to take a few Mizas from my stash so I could possibly get a drink at the Kelp Bar if I wished. Upon my arrival at the Kelp Bar, there weren't any major changes that I acknowledged. Recognizing a few of the men from my last evening here, I sat myself in the same seat I had when I conversed with the young professor. The Bar seemed to be generally inactive besides the obnoxiously loud discussions and petty jokes. It wasn't long after I requested a drink and paid the exhausted looking old bar tender that a man sat himself next to me and decided to have a conversation. He too was blonde, but had a much more harsh facial features then what I am used to. The man even had a scar dividing his eyebrow into two separate sections. It wasn't long after conversing with him that I was informed he was a visitor, and admired the city a great deal. As delightful as it was for someone to fall in love with my home, he adored the city for reasons that made me uncomfortable...He questioned what there was to do in Zeltiva and I provided an honest answer. It was the statements that followed that lead me to believe something was wrong. It was a strange thing, his facial expression as he spoke the last words of his rant before pushing me over and immediately changing my mood for the day. The gleam in his dark blue eyes single-handedly struck fear in me, although it was nothing like the fear I felt when I looked into the brown eyes of my tormentor only a day or so before. I am aware that I am not the bravest man in Zeltiva but I can assume that many fearless fighters would have felt the same as I when looking into his endless eyes, even if for a brief instant. The shade of blue was identical to that of the ocean in which I pass by everyday, only that it had less sympathy. The blue in his eyes reminded me of how cruel the sea can be, taking men, women and children's lives without a second thought. Much like many of my fellow Zeltivans who had unfortunately lost their lives from the waves of the water, I felt helpless. Powerless. The crooked smirk on the man's face as I fell upon the Wave Guards situated beside me only added to the development of the feeling of being defenseless. The anger that raged subsequently to the man's hostile actions didn't come as a surprise. The pain from the fall made my reaction of standing up once again delayed, allowing the Wave Guard to grab my shirt and give the first blow to my jaw. The horrid sensation of pain that flowed freely through my jaw was agonizing but the dull fist didn't leave me with excruciating throbbing like the dagger in my side had. But I can not say that the evil sensation didn't hurt. The bodybuilder was strong with fist that I could have mistaken for a rock if I wasn't able to see.

You reach the bottom of the page, flipping it over to find that it is empty. Was this the end of the entry or was the rest of it in the pile? You place the paper on top of the desk and decide to draw a new one out.

[Ricky Maze]

The Thoughts of the Lonely
Spring 74th 514 AV
Address: McCenry Residence, The World's End Grotto
To: Gale McCenry
From: Anonymous

Gale,

This letter is from the father of the man you would call your best friend, and if I'm still correct by the time this letter has reached you, that friend is none other than my own son Ricky. I have to apologize in the short few instances that we've met, as I myself never really had the time to know the next Godfather to be named in our line. I knew the choice would likely be made though as Ricky has always thought fondly of you, off and on he would mention you and how lucky he was to have you for a friend. It pleases me so to think he finally has at least one person he can count on in this world, other than himself to say the very least. Growing up as a boy he sort of learned to fend for himself most of the time, which explains where he gets being so hard headed from really. Alas I've so much to tell you, so much I wish to share. Off and on I wonder if by chance I could've told you more about my son, and in turn come to discover what inner secrets you hold. Believe it or not I know a bit of your history and not through Ricky, for what can of father am I if I don't check into the background of those he keeps close to him.

Nevertheless I have to say what little I did gather wasn't anything bad, quite the contrary it was far from what I expected really. It almost led me to assume you were by some grim chance a Maze in your own right, though you don't carry the blood in your veins. What I'm saying is that down the lines of our family history has shown that tragedy is not an uncommon thing, and even worse it has been known to repeat itself in a cycle that never ends. Off and on one will experience dark times over and over until at last his spirit is broken, until at last the life of that man has whittled away into nothing but an empty shell. I fear such a fate may exist for my own son, as I too have endured hardship after hardship and barely managed to live. I'm not the same man as I once was I can guarantee that much. All the same you know what it feels like to suffer, and in turn can understand the pain Ricky himself will go through in life.

Yet all hope is not lost, for you know it and I know it, that he is to be a father soon. Something like that is what changes a man, and in turn can be powerful enough, to turn the tide and change the course of fate itself. I believe that the child of my son, my grandchild, could help lead Ricky to take such a stand even in the most grim of times. If there's one thing I have learned it's that love is a powerful thing, and in turn you too can share in that love as the child grows. You have been named Godfather have you not? That means Ricky trusts you beyond compare, and in turn you've been gifted an honor unlike any other. When I named Odis the Godfather of Ricky he too felt a change, and in turn he became a better man than he ever was thanks to my son. Which leads me to leave behind this message so that I may very well write the most important thing down, so that you know what responsibilities you may very well expect to face.

Ricky is strongly independent but unafraid to trust you, therefore the times where you watch the child are the most precious. However being a Godfather means that you in turn live to be a role model, a figure almost the same as the father, and you too must try to adopt a positive outlook on life even in the darkest of times. What you must do Gale is not just hope but love, love everything you have and in turn love every moment shared, cherish the good and not the bad, fear no evil but instead keep what you love safe from within its reach. Love is the key when it comes to change, its what makes the impossible become possible in the end. In time you will find that Ricky will rely on you more often than you would think, because deep down he loves you like the brother he grew up without in this world. Which is why I believe you can do it, because Ricky too believes in you. Deep down you're a strong man just waiting to open up, and when that time comes you'll find yourself free from the bonds of fate itself.

After rereading this letter I must sound mad, but in truth living eight years with only the wonder of what your son is like, I've come to find that the words written above hold no greater truth. In time everything will change for you, in time you will come to learn that amidst all the bad, there is still good left in the world. You just have to reach out and make it happen, hold onto what matters most and don't let anything take it away from you. Were any more easier to simplify then sure enough this letter... would make much more sense. Unfortunately there isn't enough room on this parchment for a full lesson on what to expect, but the least I could do was open up to you and welcome you to the family in my own way, because like Ricky I'm proud to call you the Godfather of my coming Grandchild. By the time you're reading this I'll already be long gone, so please continue to watch over my son for me, be there for him now seeing as I no longer can.

The Proudest Man in all of Zeltiva,
Burten Maze

[Ricky Maze]

The Thoughts of the Lonely
Summer 72nd 514 AV
Address: McCenry Residence, The World's End Grotto
To: Gale McCenry
From: Hannah Vanwerd

Gale,

Its actually a relief to find the time to send word to you at last, our arrival in Syliras has kept us busy but rest assured we're all fine. Ricky has made a complete recovery from his illness and as restless as ever, I think the healing probably did more than just remove whatever condition haunted his mind. We're all ready to leave but will need a small amount of time to prepare for the return journey, I know both Ricky and Telion miss the little one that's at home with you. We send our love with this letter and hope the handsome tyke is doing well, and of course we hope that you yourself are doing well. When we return we'll have a celebration to put together, something that you and I will have to work on for the two since we'll still be on the road by the time their anniversary rolls around.

So by the time this letter reaches you we should already be halfway if not close to home as is, but there's something I wanted to share with you beforehand. You see Ricky has come to learn something that I didn't expect to happen so soon, something that I can't giveaway just yet as I don't think he's ready to know. Can you keep a secret for me? You're the only one who will know this after reading this letter, but I've been doing a personal favor for Ricky's father. You remember Burten? He entrusted me with an important item, something I'm not meant to give to Ricky until I know for sure he's ready to handle it. Believe it or not Burten had quite a story to take with his grave, which is why I have to ask you to keep this secret. Please, don't tell Ricky about any of this! He cannot know that I've been carrying his father's journal around, at least not until I believe he is ready for it.

We'll see you soon then, remember you and I are going to set up a special event for Ricky and Telion. It'll be one of the first discussions we'll have after returning home, till then just bear a little longer and tell young Martin that we're on our way.

Hannah.