- Posting Speed
- 1-3 posts per week
- One post per week
- Slow As Molasses
- Writing Levels
- Adept
- Advanced
- Prestige
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Female
- Primarily Prefer Male
- Genres
- Fantasy, SciFi, Modern, Magical
life after
the Neponset Settlement
early Spring, mid morning, clear skies, no rain
"We live by growth; we die by stagnation."
The birds chirped. It was a good sign.the Neponset Settlement
early Spring, mid morning, clear skies, no rain
"We live by growth; we die by stagnation."
Grandpa Joe sat at his thinking place, thinking. Considering. Reminiscing. Contemplating. His chair, like the pier on which it sat, creaked with age. Like his knees did, as he rocked his seat back and forth on its rockers. Age had been hard on them, but they were made of sterner stuff. They were built of sterner stuff. Closing in on seven decades, Joe felt like his bones were like the trees around them. Strong. Sturdy. A bit ornery. The pier had been one of the first real structures they'd made; easier to hook a fish in the middle of the river, as opposed to the bank. He smiled in pride.
Not his only source of pride, though. Emily, dear Emily, had nursed and cared for small Jonathan, Jacob, Jasper, and Jessica on this rocking chair. And they had each themselves gone on to be pillars of the Settlement. They made him proud, prouder than any platform or seat made of lumber.
Well. Mostly. Jonathan had taken to stories of Joe's own youthful expedition. Joe went still, the gentle creak of the rocker falling silent from lack of push. He could have prepared the boy better; he was certain of it. He should have prepared him better. Maybe, then, Jon would have returned. Maybe, then, Emily would still smile.
The Neponset River gurgled and bubbled happily. It was almost their lifeline. Their source of fresh, drinkable water, and an almost infallible provider of protein. Bass grew large in the absence of over-fishing from Before, and there were otherwise plenty of other varieties so as to allow for all tastes and preferences. Not only sustenance, but even on occasion a gift from debris upriver. Rarely, but often enough to encourage a watchful eye, some bit of technology or mechanism from Before would find itself caught in the reeds and rushes that lined the banks. Invariably, it would be put to good and creative use.
Not to say that the Settlement relied on such things. Situated where they were in an abandoned residential zone with some minor commercialization, long-enduring commodities were available for salvage. Solar panels, kitchen utensils, bicycles. Even a record player from some enthusiast from Before, though the needle had long been broken; the player as yet sat unused in a plastic tub, waiting for its missing piece, that it might fill the air once more with long forgotten songs of days far past.
The record player was just a fancy, though. A distraction to be considered during the small leisure periods their hard work could afford them. No, the past was gone. They were building for the future. Humanity, future Humanity, relied on them now. No one may have wished to live in such a time, Joe considered, pensively stroking his stubbled chin. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.
The pier groaned behind him, and he turned his head as best he might.
"It's almost time."
Dear Emily. Care lined her face, and her brow was taut in unbroken worry. Her lips tightened as her husband looked to her. Not angrily, but in an attempted smile; she had not managed a real one since-
"Of course," Joe replied, slowly rising from his chair with the aid of his cane. "Thank you."
Hand in hand, they left the pier and made their way toward the Gathering Hall.
Toward the future.
*
Clack clack clack
Grandpa Joe's stick cracked against wooden siding of the Gathering Hall. The noise drew a few eyes, but most of the small crowd still murmured excitedly. The meeting was all anyone could talk about. Had been for some time. Everyone had known the day was coming, of course; it had for each of them, years ago. But to see ones' children follow in their footsteps, to become independent contributors to their settlement, was itself more exciting than anything had ever been before. Even the land itself seemed to be filled with joy. With a warming Spring on the wind, the birds chirped happily, the breeze tickled the branches of the leaves, and even the River rushed and garbled happily.
Grandpa Joe clacked his stick again, adding a frustrated ahem for emphasis. It did the trick, and the crowd turned to look, though the murmurs didn't entirely go silent.
"We live by growth; we die by stagnation."
The old man said the words solemnly, head bowed and thick, black hair uncovered. He winced, shifting his weight more onto his stick; his knee twinged, never fully healed. The group had quieted, now, the somber air falling on everyone like a smothering blanket. There were memories in the old timers' minds, and rumor on the lips of their children, of the Journey to the Settlement, but neither tale nor even rumor were passed on to their descendants.
Suddenly, Joe smiled.
"It's time!" he called with a laugh, and life a mist before a stiff breeze, the four mood passed from the crowd. "Every so often, children have to make their own way in the world. It was true a hundred years, Before, and it's true now, in our life After! To have a house of their own, a farm or shop of their own. To Contribute! Well, today's the day. A spot's even been found here in Old Boston, maybe a quarter mile east across the River from us; close enough, but not so close. Where, exactly, will be your own choice.
"You'll be on your own, kids, on the day to day, but you'll still wanna trade with us old farts! Gets awful hard, you decide you don't wanna trade."
Looking to his side, Joe gestured at Emily, his long-suffering wife, and he smiled. She returned it sweetly before lifting a hammer and bringing it down onto an old bell. The resulting tone was broad and deep, and it was carried into the air by the wind. Nodding, Joe looked back to the crowd.
"That's for you, kids. That's your start. A new chapter in your life! Go make something of yourselves! We'll be watching you eagerly."
*
Clack clack clack
Grandpa Joe's stick cracked against wooden siding of the Gathering Hall. The noise drew a few eyes, but most of the small crowd still murmured excitedly. The meeting was all anyone could talk about. Had been for some time. Everyone had known the day was coming, of course; it had for each of them, years ago. But to see ones' children follow in their footsteps, to become independent contributors to their settlement, was itself more exciting than anything had ever been before. Even the land itself seemed to be filled with joy. With a warming Spring on the wind, the birds chirped happily, the breeze tickled the branches of the leaves, and even the River rushed and garbled happily.
Grandpa Joe clacked his stick again, adding a frustrated ahem for emphasis. It did the trick, and the crowd turned to look, though the murmurs didn't entirely go silent.
"We live by growth; we die by stagnation."
The old man said the words solemnly, head bowed and thick, black hair uncovered. He winced, shifting his weight more onto his stick; his knee twinged, never fully healed. The group had quieted, now, the somber air falling on everyone like a smothering blanket. There were memories in the old timers' minds, and rumor on the lips of their children, of the Journey to the Settlement, but neither tale nor even rumor were passed on to their descendants.
Suddenly, Joe smiled.
"It's time!" he called with a laugh, and life a mist before a stiff breeze, the four mood passed from the crowd. "Every so often, children have to make their own way in the world. It was true a hundred years, Before, and it's true now, in our life After! To have a house of their own, a farm or shop of their own. To Contribute! Well, today's the day. A spot's even been found here in Old Boston, maybe a quarter mile east across the River from us; close enough, but not so close. Where, exactly, will be your own choice.
"You'll be on your own, kids, on the day to day, but you'll still wanna trade with us old farts! Gets awful hard, you decide you don't wanna trade."
Looking to his side, Joe gestured at Emily, his long-suffering wife, and he smiled. She returned it sweetly before lifting a hammer and bringing it down onto an old bell. The resulting tone was broad and deep, and it was carried into the air by the wind. Nodding, Joe looked back to the crowd.
"That's for you, kids. That's your start. A new chapter in your life! Go make something of yourselves! We'll be watching you eagerly."
*
This was just a formality. Something to mark the passage of time, the significance of the event. For significant it was. The last real Journey was- oh, half a century ago. And now, real expansion was happening. And all because the Settlement's small band of disparate people had managed to put aside whatever differences and squabbles they had between them for the betterment of all. Joe felt a glow of hope he'd not felt since Jon had left. And the rush of pride at the children going forward.
Best yet, Emily smiled again.
~~~
The journey begins. Tomorrow, you set off into the wide world to establish yourself, the expand on Humanity's small refuge of the Settlement. Pack your things, bid your loved ones farewell, get a deep sleep.
At first light, you head east for the river crossing.
At first light, you head toward the future.
CS thread
@rissa -Jaime & Melby
@PavellumPendulum -Monty & Chai
@DayDreamer -Calum & Artemis
@Jess Incognito -Nona
@Zarko Straadi -Mirielis
@Phi Chisym -Audrai
@rissa -Jaime & Melby
@PavellumPendulum -Monty & Chai
@DayDreamer -Calum & Artemis
@Jess Incognito -Nona
@Zarko Straadi -Mirielis
@Phi Chisym -Audrai