In the morning, you wake up to a fresh day alone.  As you walk around your house, it seems like an average, dull morning.  Everything is in order and you eventually go out for groceries.

Along the way to a local Krogers (an average grocery store), you pass a bridge with another car approaching from the other direction.  In his hands you see a bottle of beer as he swerves some.  Nervous, you tighten your grip on the wheel, but your preparations are to no avail.  As he swerves into your lane, you hit the brakes, but get bashed into the river, off of the bridge.

It doesn't take long as you struggle helplessly underwater to find that you can't escape.  The slow lack of oxygen makes you soon get on a high as if you were about to accept your fate when you fall unconcious.


You wake up to the feeling of the sun on your face.  You're in a rural area, crops on either side of you and you on a dirt road.  Your purse, drenched, is on your arm as is the steering wheel to your car in your hands.  You suddenly feel a rush of cold over you as the wind blows, noticing that you yourself are covered in water as well.  You raise up to find that there aren't many trees around, but there are a few and there's a small house up ahead, thatched it seems.
This message was last updated by the GM at 21:45, Wed 26 Apr 2006.

    I rise from the ground, shaking and shivering, tossing the steering wheel to the ground.   I'm on the verge of tears, rage at that stupid driver for running me off the road, frustration at myself for reacting so badly, shame at standing here in the middle of nowhere wet and cold.  And where in the world am I??????  I look about me.  Where is the road?  Where is the river?  Where is my car?  My hubby is gonna be worried sick about me, he didn't want me to leave to begin with.  Maybe he knew something bad was gonna happen.  I try to gather myself together.  I speak out loud, a bad habit I have when I think I"m alone.
   "where am I?  I guess I should go to that house.  But I"m all wet.  I can't be seen in public all wet.  But I have to call my hubby, tell him I"ll be late, he'll be worried sick," so thinking I begin to look about me, to see if there might be other car parts laying about.  I fumble in my purse, making sure everything is still there....money, brush, credit cards, keys
   I then run my fingers through my wet hair, twisting it so as to wring out the worse of the water.  I don't try to brush it, though, it would just get tangled.  I just run my fingers through it.   Then I try to wring out my denim skirt.   It hangs heavy around my knees.  Sigh.  "it will have to do," I tell the air.

You manage to decently un-wet yourself (yes...I just made up a cool new verb) decently.  The beating sun really helps with the drying your skirt out, but your hair feels hard afterwards when the water you didn't get out dries.

    After standing in the sun, waiting to dry out a bit, and waiting for my frazzled nerves to settle down, I decide to walk to the house and see if I can call my hubby.  I place my purse on my shoulder and set out.

As you approach the small house, you notice more along the fields.  You just now notice the plants-all the same.  You're on some kind of farm with a bunch of hut-looking buildings on the sides.  When you think to find the door into the nearest one, you find that there is no door and that there's only one person inside-a woman looking the other way washing something in a bucket.

   "excuse me," I say politely, "can you please help me?  I seem to have lost my way and I need to call my husband."

The woman jumps some and turns around towards you.  She speaks in a language that you personally don't reckognize, but seems to be fluent in it.  After saying something, she approaches you some, nodding her head to the side, looking curiously at you.  Her clothes are old fashioned it seems, with a makeshift apron on.

   I step back as she approaches, starting to get nervous.  "I'm sorry," I stammer, "I don't understand you.  Do you speak English?"

The woman looks back, shocked at you completely entering the hut.  She picks up a rock and flails it at you, saying something in a language you don't completely reckognize.  You feel like it has some roots that you might know, but you don't know the meaning of any of it.

   I put my hands up in defense and begin backing back out of the hut.  "o.k. o.k.  so I don't speak the language, I'll go,"
    As I back out I begin to realize that I don't like this situation at all.  Where have I found myself?  How am I gonna learn the language?  Where am I?  How am I ever gonna get back?  Hoping I haven't made the woman really mad, I continue to back out, nervous and anxious, wishing somebody could clue me in.

Many men come out of the fields around you and go into different huts.  They all look dirty and sweaty, as if coming back from a hard day's work.  They wreak of labor, carrying farm equipment unknown to you.  As they come, they look at you as some strange, foreign, thing.  Nonetheless, without saying anything, the men go into the huts.

   Nervous after my confrontation with the woman, and even more nervous about facing a hot, sweaty worker who would probably be more fractious than the woman was, I decide questioning these people is a bad idea at the moment.
    Maybe I can walk along the line of huts until I find a larger building, maybe the owner of this farm, I think to myself.  Maybe the owner of the farm will be more hospitable than the workers.
   So thinking I head out, not sure of my direction, just walking between the line of low huts.   As I walk I keep an eye out for another lady or somebody that seems friendly.  I avoid looking at the men, afraid of stirring up trouble.

You walk further along the small huts until you come to a larger house-made of actual stone.  It is about 20 feet tall and you see it as maybe twice as wide.  There is one man at the entrace.  He's dressed like the ones you saw in the fields, accept much cleaner.  He says something to you, but you don't understand it at all.

   I speak slowly, with gestures.  "I," I say, pointing to myself, "am Gabby.  I," again pointing to myself, "need to make a phone call," putting hand to face, thumb at ear, pinkie at mouth.
    I continue, "does anybody speak English," pulling hand from chin out, trying to indicate speech, "english" I repeat.

OOC:  Okay, first off you got a critical miss on communication (98) with him, and your GE roll sucked too lol.

The man looks at you with an irritated face in the middle of what you're saying.  He's confused and you see that he doesn't look the type that likes to be confused.  The man shouts loudly and two other men come out, taking a hold of each of your arms.  They walk to a muddy spot in the ground and throw you into it, going back to the large house and inside.

   I sit in the middle of the mud puddle and have myself an old fashioned cry.  Tears of frustration, shame, rage spill from my eyes, making me a worse mess than ever.  After venting my feelings I pick myself up from the mud and try to wipe off as much as possible.  Now I am mad.
    "fine," I say to myself, "I don't need your stupid help.  I can find my way back home by myself.  Jerks."
    So in  a huff I turn away from the big house, away from the fields, and point myself in a direction I hadn't taken yet.

You feel consumed by tears and fury that you rush into a nearby forest.  Inside the forest, the air feels fresher.  When you're who knows how far in, you start to calm down some, realizing they hadn't known what you were saying at all.  You still feel the mud all over you, but you hear something in bushes to your right.

   Curiosity killed the cat, satisfaction brought him back.  So thinking, I tentatively turn to my right to see what the noise was.

A dog appears from the bushes beside you, pouncing on you playfully.  It starts licking your face, brightening your mood by millions.  You've finally found someone that wasn't rude around here.

   I play and pet the dog for some time, then check to make sure it doesn't have a collar.  Since it came from my right, I decide to walk in that direction.  Maybe it has a home there, and maybe its owners will be less grumpy than the folks at the farm.
   As I follow the dog I ponder why my pantomimes didn't work.  I used the universal signs for "name" and "phone".  What type of weird culture is this, I wonder, that don't even know the sign for phone.  Maybe, I ponder, they don't even have phones.  How am I ever gonna bridge the communication barrier, I sigh.  Perhaps the next person I meet will be more friendly and willing to help, I hope.

When you arrive back at the house, the man in the front looks at you strangely, but then widens his eyes when he sees the dog.  Smiling, he goes up to the dog and hugs it, leading it to the side of the house, saying something kindly, you can't tell to whom.  After that, he says something to you, walks inside, then comes back for you.  When he comes back, he gestures you inside and lets you go in first.

   I smile and make an attempt to introduce myself again.  I point to myself and say, "gabby".   I point to the dog and say, "dog"  I hope that somehow we can bridge this communication barrier.
 I must find out where I am and how I can get back home, I think to myself.  But I'm glad that I'm finally in the house.  Maybe the owner will take pity on me and let me take a shower.  Even if I have to wear my dirty clothes again, I'll feel some better having clean skin.
   So thinking I follow the guy into the house, attempting to communicate my name with verbalizations and gestures.

At the door, the man makes you take your shoes and socks off as to not get the house dirty.  When you speak, he says when pointing to the dog, "Canis," and pointing to himself, "Servus Loquax."

He leads you further into the estate to a room where a man is sitting down, as if he were expecting some sort of company today.  He is in a toga and says something, which you assume is a greeting as he gets up and gestures you to follow him.

   Again I try to communicate my name, then finally give it up as a bad cause as I follow my host.
   It appears that I must be in some sort of Latin culture, maybe a Roman estate, I muse as I follow my host.  But I have never studied Latin and know just a little about the Roman culture.  I'll just have to play this by ear, I decide.

He leads you to a gardened area with stone around it, which you two end up walking on.  He is talking the whole time, and you try to listen.  You definately hear the word 'gratias,' so you naturally assume that he's thanking you for something.

When you reach the bench, it is easier to communicate with hand signals.  You manage to assume his name is Lucius Senaris and you think that he knows your name, because he said his after you said yours.  Near the end of the convorsation, he seems to be asking things more simply.  His first is "Graecia?"

   I wave my hand, indicating the garden we are sitting in.  I query, "what is this place?  where am I?"
    I think to myself, there is so much I want to know.  But how do I ask him?  I barely can understand him.  I'd like to find out where I am and how I can get home.

"In horto..."  He gestures around at the garden area.  After a short while of the two of you attempting to communicate, he finally understands that you want a location on a larger scale than this small area.  "prope Ostia."

   I query, "prope Ostetia?", knowing I was mispronouncing it.  I wonder if that means the name of the community we are in.  I then try to convey that I'd like to communicate with my loved ones.  I know he won't understand, since there doesn't seem to be any motor vehicles in the area, but I try to pantomime an accident between two carriages.  I then try to tag words onto objects, I finger a flower and say the word, "flower" hoping to gain a word of his language in return.  I hope that if I can add some words of familiar objects to my vocabuluary it might make communication easier.
    Deep down I am beginning to get a sense that going home won't be as easy as I once hoped.  It was beginning to sink in that I might have to stay here awhile.  In the back of my mind I am beginning to wonder what I'll do with myself in this strange new place.

When you clearly don't understand the location, he says what you assume is the name of the village.  All he says is, "villa Senarenis."  As you point and try to learn certain words, you learn the words for flower (flora), man (vir), woman (femina), slave (servus), and dog (canis).  You can't retain anything else in your memory for the moment.

   As I stumble through my vocabulary lesson, the thought plagues the back of my mind, "what am I to do?  it's apparant that I'm stuck here.  do I try to get a job with this man?  roam the country?"
   I try to convey my concern to my host by asking him about jobs and work, pantomiming manual labor, like washing dishes, working in the field, shooting game.   A part of me hopes he won't offer me a job because I am keen on seeing the land.  After trying to question about the work situation I try to convey to him a desire to see the land, trying to get a sense of what I might find if I went north, south, east or west.
  Whatever he replies I will decide what I will do, I think.

The man only looks to you, not understanding what you want.  It is clear that he knows you're concerned about something, but he doesn't seem to get it.

After your conveying desire to see the land, he takes you outside.  Rather than escorting you personally, he calls a boy over and he takes you around.  The boy looks about 14-16 years old and you discover what is generally around you.  There is a road that leads a ways in one direction.  Forests cover the remaining sides past the fields.  The road travels in a small area between the fields, in the middle of the huts along the fields.  No one understands what you mean by "north, south, east, and west."  They say words leading certain ways, but you don't understand what they mean.

   I thank my host as best as I can.  Then I bid them goodbye as I head down the road, wondering where the road will lead.

You head down the road, many of the people living in the small houses staring at you.  Soon, when you're near the end of the road, you notice that you're still in a dirty outfit-an outfit far different from theirs.  When you reach the end of the road, you see that it cuts two ways, and goes left and right, following a decently straight river.

   I feel very awkward dressed differently from these people, but am uncertain how to correct  the situation.
   "perhaps I'll run across a market, or perhaps a nice lady putting her wash out to dry.  if I see a lady putting her wash out to dry maybe I can buy some clean clothes from her, if my money is any good here.  gonna have to see about getting some food soon, getting hungry.  wonder if they have any restaurants or markets along this road?"  I think to myself as a I stroll along the road.
    When I come to the fork in the road I take the left fork, being left handed oriented.  I wonder if the water in the river would be suitable to drink.

You don't find any women along the road hanging clothes out to dry.  Through their doors, you can see them hard at work inside, preparing things.  Not wanting to interrupt, you continue down the road to find a grainery near the end, which was probably the source of their food.  There are no market stalls that you see along the road.  When you look at the water, it seems clean, but in truth you have no idea if it is or not.  You see the road continue for a while, but it slopes down.  (That means you don't know how long the road is.)

   I decide to try my luck one more time.   If I'm lucky, I'll find a friendly lady who will assist me.  I'm hoping she'll let me work for her for a wee bit, in exchange for some clothing.  Then once I get a change of clothes, I can try to wash off some of the mud and make my own outfit halfway decent.
   So, trying to be braver than I feel, I approach one of the huts.  I smile a winning smile (I hope) and speak, "hello, I am Gabby."

You see the woman keep working in the background and a man approaches you from inside of the hut.  He looks to you and says, "quid?"  He seems stern and you understand exactly what he means.  He obviously wants to know what you want from them.  After you sign it to him, he looks more kindly and lets you inside.  You never talk to his wife, her working hard on other things in the corner.  She only peeks over once, to see you entering.  The hut is about 6 yards in diameter and only one room.  There is only one bed, for two and a corner of the room which you assume is for cooking.  They have some grain stored in a small pantry at the edge of the hut.

After the two of you communicate your needs and you think you're negotiating, you clearly understand his signs to you, and even think you learn some of their language.  You understand in the end that he will give you new clothes, that your old clothes will be washed, and they'll give you food if you help his wife out with whatever she needs.  He hands you clothes and goes back to what he was doing, smiling to his wife and holding her some.  You see he has calm, loving eyes for her.  (There are no other rooms in the house for you to change in.)

Oh yeah, and through the convorsation, you discover that his name is Manius Nonus Quartinus and his wife's name is Maecia Quartinus.  You understand soon how they speak to one another when it comes to names.  Close friends and family use the first name, everyone else uses their second and last names; however, you find that isn't the case for the woman.  They also seem to know your name, calling you Gabby.

OOC:  Just so that you know, you got a 1 as your roll for communicating with him-the best possible role.
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:24, Sat 08 Apr 2006.

   Feeling very awkward about changing in front of strangers,  I try my best to change, one garment at a time, by putting the new garment on over the old and pulling the old garment down from under.  It is tedious at best.  I leave my undergarments on, definitely not taking them off in front of strangers.
  After muddling through the clothes changing process, I go over to the wife and see what she needs help with, trying to convey my thanks for their kindness.  I try to engage her in conversation, to get a feel for what kind of place this is.  Is it a farm?  A small community?    Where will the road take me?

After you finish changing, you see it getting dark outside.  When you approach the wife, she puts her hands up calmly, a happy expression on your face.  She simply says, "postridie..."  She picks up their spare blanket and places it on the side of the room opposite the bed.  She says, "dormi," and makes a gesture for sleep.  You believe that she wants to start teaching you how to help out tomorrow, and that is when she'll explain things as well.

OOC:  You're getting fantastic rolls on communicating with them.  You get a 1 last time and this time you get an 8.  Dang, lol.  Okay, we're probably going to go monthly now, unless you want to roleplay every moment.  It's just that it will be a basic routine thing.  For monthly, in your next post, just put what you plan on doing and trying to figure out.

For example: getting to know the people, the location, the language, etc.  (Just make it more poetic lol).

   I try to make a nice nest for myself on the floor with the blanket, using my purse as a pillow.  I have nightmares about the crash and wake up disoriented and confused.
   I try to learn the words for the different breakfast items placed before me, then show enthusiasm for the task I must complete to pay for my bed and breakfast.
  Once my task is complete, I head out, following the road on down the river.  I keep a watchful eye out for a market or a place where I can trade labor for goods, such as meals and a bed.
  All the while I wonder, is this my new life?  Going from homestead to homestead, learning the language, getting to know the people?  There must be more than this, some goal I must reach, some task I must complete.

The woman wakes you up early in the morning, the man having already left to work in the fields.  She smiles at you, seeming to be happy that you can help her with things now.  It seems like it's about dawn now and the woman and you make bread in the morning; rather, she shows you how to and you try to help with a small amount of materials on your part of the "kitchen" area.  Through the whole time, she's explaining what different parts of the process are, not that you really understand it.

After you two have made bread for the day, the both of you head down to the river with two buckets.  Along the way, you take note that there are no markets present.  The woman along the way greets a few other women, but keeps going at a brisky pace to complete her tasks for the day.  After walking a ways down to the river and back a few times, you're thankful that it's over.  Your muscles are tired and you expect that they will be sore the next morning.  Through the day, you need to use the restroom once and discover that they have a large bucket that the woman and you clean out that day.  When you clean it out, you end up taking it to the river and washing it thoroughly.

When the sun starts to set and you've eaten some food with the kind people who lived in the hut, you head down to the river.  It seems just like it did before, but a decent place to relax.  At the river, you notice that your foot is hurting from all of the walking and your hands are a little sore as well.  You arms also still feel weak.

  Glad that I was able to help, but weary from the day's chores, I try to find a place along the river where I can bed down for the night.   I'd hate to put the nice couple out again and have to pay for a night's rest with another day of chores.  Perhaps there is a haystack about or a bush I can lie under.  I determine that with the dawn I'll set out down the road, to see where it will go.

You don't find any bushes, but there is that group of trees, the forest right next to the farm lands.  It would already be partially down the road.  (sorry it's so short, but this is like a decision: you use it or you don't)

   I enter the forest and scout about for a nice hollow tree, or perhaps an evergreen tree with low branches, or even a tree with nice exposed roots.  I'd rather have a cozy spot where I'm a wee bit sheltered, I think to myself.  But just the forest floor will do.  I yawn as I realize how tired I am, my sore muscles starting to kick in.  I don't search long before I find something that will do, then settle in for the night, hoping the insects won't bother me much.

The closest you find is a tree that's tilted slightly above where you decide to settle down for the night.  (Zzz...Zzz...) You wake up the next day to creeping light, at dawn.  Your muscles hurt and feel tight when you try to get up.  Slowly, you get up and discover that your hair is uncomfortably dirty.

  I rummage through my purse and finally extract my brush.  I pick the worse of the leaves out of my hair, then proceed to brush it out.  I think to myself, I need a shower, and I don't even have any shampoo.
   I sigh as my stomach grumbles.  I look about me for any nuts, mushrooms, or berries that might be in season.  Then I strike out for the road again, wondering where it will lead.

Nothing out there seems edible.  There is no fruit or nuts and you only find mushrooms around the place, which you aren't too thrilled about.  Keeping them for now, you pick a lot and put about 6 in your purse.  You hit the main road and get a while down until your stomache starts hurting due to hunger.

   I decide to nibble on one of the mushrooms, hoping I had chosen correctly and hadn't chosen a poisonous one.  I hope that the road leads me to civilization soon.  I'd hate to backtrack and return to the village I had left.  But if by the end of the day I don't find anything promising I'll be forced to backtrack.  So thinking I nibble on a mushroom, hoping for the best.

You make your way down the road, feeling perfectly fine after eating the mushroom.  You do get somewhat gassy along the way and are pleased by the fact that no one was there to witness any of this hostility of digestion.  Other than occasional gas of farts and burps, you don't have any trouble with it.  When the sun starts to set, you finally lose hope and turn back.  Before you start back, you find a sign on a tree.  It points in both directions.  The way that you're going reads: OSTIA and in the other direction, it's illegible to you.

  Seeing the sign gives me hope that the road does indeed go somewhere.  But it doesn't seem to indicate how far that somewhere should be.  I decide to sleep on it before heading back the way I came.  I curl up under the sign and nibble a few more mushrooms before dozing off.

After you eat some of the mushrooms, you feel your body lose much of its energy and you have no choice but to sleep.  Slowly, you drift to sleep and a solid fever rushes over you in waves of heat.  You don't dream during this, and you wake up to this in a brighter part of the day, you estimate that you've been sleeping for a few hours.

  Determined to lay off the mushrooms, and loathe to turn around, I decide to press on in the direction I had been going.  Surely this road must lead somewhere, I think to myself as I shoulder my purse and press on.

You stumble along the road, feeling that your body is starting to work the mushroom's toxication out of your system.  Soon, you rest by a tree unwillingly.  You're just exhausted.  The distance you've traveled so far has changed the road from dirt to cobblestone.  You expect that there must be a city nearby.  When you begin to stand after resting, you throw up.  All of a sudden, you feel terribly sick and you shake some.  It feels like you have a flu and you see something neon orange in a flash going through the other side of the trees, but it went by too fast to know what it could have been.

  Oh great, I think to myself, I have poisoned myself on those mushrooms.  I'll just plop myself down by the side of the road and rest a wee bit, maybe the effects will wear off soon.  So thinking I stumble to the side of the road.

You try to rest on the side of the road, but merely moving there makes you throw up.  Now, you feel your stomache tighten and it starts to burn.  Soon, you feel your lungs begin to tighten as well, unable to breathe as easily.  Through sheer will, you're able to continue to live, still breathing barely enough.  After another moment, you lose your hearing, the noise of wind blowing not touching your mind, but just your cringing body now.

(OOC: You botched on resting/recovering.)

  I sigh as I try to make peace with myself.  I am not afraid of dying, I have lived a good life.  I wonder in passing who'll bury my body.  And I've never had a chance to tell my husband what happened to me and where I disappeared to.

The edges of your sight disappear as you enter convulsions.  You can't control your body and you feel like you're falling into nothing.  Your senses go haywire and soon, you don't feel anything anymore.

OOC: For your body's last attempt to fight it off, you got the absolute worst roll possible (100) with a botch of 28.  You are dead.

   hmmmm I wonder what will become of me now?

Hey, Summer, do you want this to be turned into a post ludum thing, or just move on to the next world (when I think of one lol)?

I was thinking that we could just change the name of the thread every time your world changed.  I could use a post on its own in giant bold saying NEW WORLD or something, so that I could keep track of it in one single thread.

  that's cool, looking forward to waking up to a new dawn, a new world, and a new challenge
 laying off the mushrooms though

OLD WORLD SUMMARY
Skills Gained: Almost No Language, Slight Nonverbal Skills

NEW WORLD

You suddenly find yourself in a new world, in the middle of throwing up.  The only thing is that nothing is coming out of your body here, and you feel perfectly fine.  You stand now, feeling healthy, and see that you're in a cemetary.  You see the graves go on for about a mile in front of you, but only a hundred yards behind you.  The average feeling is cold, and you feel the hairs on the back of your neck raise.

OOC:  Did you change into your normal clothes?  Also, I forgot what you brought with you on your trip to...elsewhere.  It was only the clothes you had on and your purse, right?
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:40, Wed 26 Apr 2006.

   I look about me, dazed and confused.  I still had on the clothing I had put on in the hut, but my old clothes were stuffed in my purse.
    I look about me.  I've always liked cemetaries.  It's fascinating reading the tombstones and trying to decipher how a person may have died based on the day of death.  I decide to explore this one a wee bit, before trying to determine where I was.  I begin wallking among the stones, reading the inscriptions, being careful not to step on the graves.

You feel something in your gut about three minutes into walking around.  It is almost like you're sick, but there's something distinctly different about it.  You've never felt like this before, and it slowly moves up your back it seems and you feel warm all over your body.

You feel strange, your mind feeling like it's in more than one place all of a sudden.  Your instincts make you run, away from the graveyard as fast as you can.  Soon, you cross the gates and look back, still feeling awkward.  The hairs on the back of your neck feel like they're almost bursting off of you and you're hit with fear, something unnatural.  You're at the side of a normal road now, a sunny day overhead and you're in your ancient outfit.

(You rolled well for an instinct thing, so your guts basically overruled you and you ran away.  In your mind, you know that it was a good move.)

  Still shivering from my experience in the cemetary, and wondering what caused such a sensation, I turn to the road.  Wondering where the road will lead, I follow it to the left.

Other way...  You feel something foreign in your mind, telling you to go to the right.  In a matter of moments, standing still and stunned by it, you feel the presence grow larger and you turn, not thinking about doing it, and start walking.  The walking seems sketchy at first, but soon it becomes smooth, something making you walk in that direction.

OOC:  You botched resistance...my dice really wanted to see you suffer I guess, lol.

  I start to get a very,  very, bad feeling about this place.  I wonder what is controlling me and what I can do to fight it.  For the moment, I give in, curiosity getting the better of me.  But I determine that if something ugly should rear its head, I'll fight like the dickens.

You feels something in you, happy.  It isn't from you, but the same foreign thing as before.  You feels something seem to move around you inside of your mind, growing larger and larger.  Soon, you find yourself beginning to run instead, feeling some pain in time from this, but you continue to do so anyways.  Cars pass by to reveal that people are in average clothes, a man having driven by in a business suit with a confused look on his face as he looks at you.

   Enough  of this, I yell at the entity in my head.  I'm way out of shape to be running down the road, you'll give me a heart attack for sure.  Let me stroll at a leisurely pace and I'll go where you want.  Then I ball my fists and pull myself towards the grassy shoulder, hoping to force myself down to the ground.

You manage to push yourself to the ground, the other entity caught off guard by it.  Then, you feel it receeding, but its presence still there.  You feel that you have complete power over yourself again, and you hear a voice in your mind.  Blast it!

   I speak to the entity, while gasping for breath, "here's the deal. I'm curious by nature, so if you want me to come see you, cool, I'm there.  But take it easy on an old girl o.k?  Just gentle nudges, a hand on the shoulder or something. kay?"

What do you mean, "See me"?  The voice spoke from inside of her head, harshly.  The area began to fog up now, the environment becoming more and more spooky to you.  For a moment, you feel something moving around in your mind, but not growing like it was before.  You get impressions of your past in front of you, some intiment ones as well.

   I speak to the entity, "I just felt that since you were nudging me in your direction that you had something you'd want from me.  If you'd rather be left alone, you should not have aroused my curiosity.   And I don't think it's fair to be reading my mind when I know so little about you.  Give me some clues as to who and what you are."

You must not realize why I'm here...  Suddenly, something grips your mind-hard.  You feel your entire body surge with unbearable pain, and you fall to the ground.  It still surges through you as the entity speaks more, you flailing about from it.  I'm not a physical being.  As some might say, I'm a ghost.  My name is Sam, and I'm here to stay.  In time, you will lose all of your ability to resist me and will not even be able to think anymore.  Soon enough, you'll just be an entity inside of MY body, helplessly looking through your old eyes.  The pain continues to flow through you, and you can't comprehend anything in your environment, only the pain and Sam's voice.

OOC:  Just to say, he got a kickass roll on doing this and your resistance was really, really poor.

   Moaning with pain, I plead with Sam to relent.  I try to beg him not to take my body, it is old, it is out of shape, I'm way too fat, and, I feel the most compelling reason, I'm a girl and he's a guy, or at least once was a guy.  Surely he'd not want to come back to a physical body that's so wrong as mine. I beg him to reconsider and I'd do everything in my power to find him a suitable host.

The pain continues until you talk about helping him find a suitable host.  At that moment, the pain ceases and you breath deeply, rising some.  Though being rid of me should be enough of a reward, I will teach you something very valuable when you do find me a suitable host.  We need to head to town, this way.  You feel a tug on your body in the direction you had been forced to run before.

  Relieved that the painful ordeal was over, I proceed to walk to town, curious as to what type of person this Sam would like for a host.  I also ponder how I'll manage to persuade somebody to be a host.  Perhaps it would be best, I think, not to let them know they are gonna be a host.  But then I have second thoughts about being devious, honesty is the best policy.  There just might be somebody out there who is dying to play host to an alien being.  I just need to find such a person, I think to myself.

What are you wearing?  Sam asks you in your mind, and you look down to see that you're still wearing the outfit from the farm.  Then, suddenly, you begin to ponder about how you got here and such.  You feel Sam search those thoughts and plunge into your memories of the past few days.  You get the impression from him mentally that he's ignorant to what's going on with you as well.

   The pent up emotions of the last few days spill out, my confusion as to where  I found myself after the car crash, my frustration that I couldn't communicate my needs to contact my husband, my disorientation to find myself here after getting a bad batch of mushrooms.
   After relieving myself of my emotions I felt some better and my curiosity about Sam returned.  I am not used to letting others now how I feel, so I am a little embarressed to open up to him.  I asked him, "who are you? how did you find yourself in the state you are in now?"

I died.  He simply said, and then brought you to attention about something.  Do you realize what you're wearing is...very strange?  Where are you from?

  Not comfortable talking about myself, I try to redirect the conversation back to Sam.  "how did you die?"

You can feel Sam's mind flare for a moment, angry.  None..  The anger flares more and you feel pain in the back of your spine, hurting like crazy, but you manage to stay standing.  ..of your business!  You're blocking my probing, remembering where you were through ignorence, as if you didn't even know where you were yourself.  The pain stops and images flash before you of your time in the farmlands.  Tell me!

   "I wasn't trying to block your probes,"I sigh, "I am that type of person, I'm uncomfortable talking about myself.  I like to find out about other people.  But if you insist on knowing, I was driving along in my car, coming back from the store, when I crashed.  I woke up on a farm where the people didn't speak english.  I tried to communicate, but didn't feel I was making headway.  So  I started walking, hoping to find another area where people did speak english.  I got hungry, and against my better judgement, I ate some mushrooms.  I passed out and wound up in the cemetary.  Then you invaded my brain and I've been trying to deal with that.  I'm tired, confused, lonely and disoriented.  All I want to do is find you a suitable host, find a phone, and call my husband to explain to him why I'm late for supper."
  "and," I add, "I'm starting to forget my life before the crash.  my life before the crash is all seeming like a dream now, and the life I"m living now, with you invading my brain, seems real."
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:44, Fri 05 May 2006.

I see..  You can feel Sam's mind stop gripping your own conscience and you walk on down the road, alone with your own insanity.  After a period of silence, Sam decides to finally speak up again, You wanted to know how I died.  It was seven years ago, I was killed.  My body was eaten by feral beasts, but I don't remember details after that, having died short into the torture of having my flesh ripped open.  Flashes of the gruesome scene Sam mentions flash into your mind, as if it happened to you.  You can't help but feel remorse for the man, having died so painfully.

   "were you out hiking when the beasts attacked?"I query, trying to sound sympathetic, thinking to myself, "what a gruesome way to die."

No..I was caught by someone and strapped down.  He then released animals on me.  My head was fastened down, so I'm not sure what animals they were.  Sam gets slightly irritable at your second response.  I'm completely aware of how gruesome it was.  I was there...

   "what a horrible thing to do to a person, it sounds like some type of cruel torture," I say, sympathetically.  "was your capture an act of crime, like being kidnapped?  or was it religious persecution? or a punishment for a crime?"

No idea...  Sam seemed like he was beginning to trust you, and then you could feel a wall go up again, a hijacker's mind again.  What is it your concern how I died?  I have hijacked your body and am forcing you to find me a suitable host.  I was just lucky that you were so close to the grave.

  "I am just that type of person, I care about other people.  And if I knew how you died, I could maybe help you find a host that would better suit your needs," I try to explain.

Still..  I just can't come to trusting you.  The road seems as if it would go on forever and he continues saying, I personally can't believe that you know nothing about what's happened to you.  You must be blocking it from my access somehow.

   I sigh, "I am trying to be as truthful as possible.  I really have no clue how I came to be here.  All I want is to return to my home.  Although I must admit the people I've met on my journeys have been interesting.  If I knew for sure my husband wasn't worrying about me, I"d enjoy this little vacation all the more.   I've always wanted to travel and go to exotic places."

OOC: You had a fantastic role for getting him to trust you and stuff, so you're lucky, lol.

Perhaps it might be easier if I left the body for you to focus?  You can feel that Sam now has a completely trusting mind inside of you, rather than the hostile one before.  Soon, you stop and feel something leaving you, almost feeling like breathing out through your skin.  A man now stands next to you, a young man.  He's wearing an outfit, bloody.  It's practically a gruesome sight, but you manage to see that he isn't threatening.  The man is see-through, so the sight barely effects you.  He stands about 6 foot and has brown hair with jeans and a jacket on.

He says, "Is it better now?"  He had a clear look on his face, and you could sense that he was ready to jump back into your body just in case.

  I smile at Sam, "I'm glad you have trusted me.  I feel so much better with my own mind and body.  Now let's get to the  town so that we can find somebody who will be a more suitable host for you.  You can look about at the different candidates and try to find somebody who reminds you of yourself.  Then I'll talk to the person and see if they are willing to play host to a ghost.  Some people are thrilled at the idea, some are not.  If we can't find somebody who's agreeable we'll have to keep searching until we find somebody.  Maybe if you knew of some buried treasure or something that you want to find, maybe that would be an incentive to play host."

You reach a town it seems, a normal modern one and people can't help but look at your clothes strangely, and you see that they wear all formal attire it seems.  Sam jumped into your body soon before you entered the city, for he didn't feel safe walking about normally.  The people continue to just stare at you, and Sam doesn't offer any sort of information for you.

  I look about for a restaurant thinking I might be able to search for a host among the diners.  I also keep an eye out for a clothing store.  If nothing else I can change back to my old clothes.  I try to remember how much cash I had.  It was the first of the month so should have at least $400.

You find both a diner and a clothing store, conveniently by one another.  The clothing store has the same, average things, that are in any normal clothing store.  The diner seems a little larger, and perhaps considered a small restraunt instead.  You can't tell for sure from the outside if there's more to the diner or not.

OOC:  You got lucky roles on finding them, lol.

  I decide to go clothing shopping first, perhaps I can blend into the crowd better, see without being seen.  I search the racks for an inexpensive skirt and blouse, not wanting to spend more than 40 dollars for the pair.

You approach the clothing store and enter.  Inside, the people at the counter look at you oddly, they themselves in decently neat clothing.  This part of town seemed rich or something.  The store is covered in clothing, nice and still cheap.  You find some, a nice skirt, the least business-related there, which is still pretty tame.  When you approach the counter, the woman takes the clothing from you and says, "I'm sorry miss, but this article of clothing has been reserved."

You then hear a voice in your head, Sam again.  This isn't the same place that I remember.  It must be another district or something.  I lived in a much poorer district than this.

   I silently whisper to Sam, "shhh, I'll deal with your problem in a minute, let me figure out why I can't buy these clothes."
   Then I turn to the cashier, smile sweetly, and ask, "what do you mean, reserved?"

"There should be a perfectly fine clothing store a few blocks that way,"  The woman points to the right far down.  "They should be able to handle you just fine."

You hear Sam's voice crop up in your head again.  Damn Sarins, never let our kind get anything-even if we have the money.

  Feeling miffed that I was judged by my appearance, I leave the establishment and proceed to find the other clothing store.
   I mumble to Sam as I go, "perhaps you should tell me a little bit about this place, as you remember it."

The northern district-the Sarins-are the wealthy people of this city.  They keep to their own quarter and have steady jobs.  I am..I mean was a Resha.  We live in the east, west, and southern districts of town.  Of course, there are some middle-class individuals, but not that many.  You either have it or you don't.

You continue the distance down, seeing a drastic change in everything around you.  It appears more common to the place that you remember as your home.  People are wearing more common clothing, rather than the business suites.  Still, they look at you funny as you walk by.  You don't find the clothing store the woman spoke of.

   I decide to query one of the people.  I stop a woman and ask her, "where do I go to buy some clothing?"

The woman looks you up and down questioningly.  She seems confused about something and says, "There should be a clothing store down the road some and then take a right.  It should be near the turn on your left."  She smiles and then walks accross the street, into a cafe (less fancy than was in the northern district) which she was heading to.

   I follow the nice lady's directions, hoping the owner of the clothing store will be nice enough to sell me something.

You find the 'store' exactly where the woman had directed you.  The woman inside looks you up and down for a moment, but lets you in.  She looks nervous about something, and you see that the store is very small, but still seems practical.  It is almost run-down, but it seems like the woman did her best to keep the place clean.

On the few racks and shelves they have, there are jeans, shirts, and some khakies.  There are a few hats on a high shelf, but they look like they aren't the center of focus in the shop.

Yes, this is one of our shops.  You can tell that she can barely keep it up-dividing her from the Sarins.  It's always a risk to open up stores in town with what little money you have.

 I smile at the lady and query, "you don't by any chance have any skirts or dresses?"

The woman looks around and takes up a clipboard frantically, trying to help you out.  You're the only customer in the store and she scans the list quickly, her face dropping some after she reaches the bottom.

"I'm sorry, miss, but we don't have any skirts.  I could have sworn we did, but it must've gotten stolen some time this week.  And I'm sorry, but we never carry dresses in this store."

After she raises her head again, you notice that she isn't that old.  She's only in her twenties, and she has dark circles-a mark of how tired she is.

   I take pity on her and decide to chat a bit.  "can you tell me more about this place and the society?  I'm a visitor and am unfamiliar with the surroundings."

The woman wipes her face off some.  Tears were beginning to gather in her eyes.  She managed to get out, "Where are you from, mam?"

   I stammer, "I'm just from a different place, far away from here.  I'm lost and confused and am trying to get adjusted.  I have made a friend here, named Sam, who is looking for a young man who can help Sam out of a sticky situation.  But I was feeling uncomfortable wearing clothes that are different from the norm and thought I'd try to  get some new clothes.  I had stopped at one shop and found what I wanted, but they wouldn't serve me.  That's why I came here.  I'm sorry that you are so sad.  I wish I knew what I could do to help your situation."

She looks sternly at you, different from her defeated expression before.  "Look, if you want to help me, you can buy something.  If you don't want to shop, then please, get out."

  I decide to purchase some blouses, thinking maybe I can get some skirts elsewhere.  I kinda wish she would confide in me and explain the society's social ladder to me.  If I knew more about these people and their customs, it might be easier for me to find Sam a host.

Summer:

You find a nice blouse and take it to the front.  The woman, still looking sick with worry, says, "Seven dollars, mam."  You start taking a ten out of your purse and the woman's face gets bright, but she doesn't say anything.

All of a sudden, Sam shouts from within your mind NO!  STOP IT!  Yet again, he takes control of you and forces you to walk backwards away from her, still holding the money in your hand.  The woman looks suprised and anxious, as Sam speaks to you mentally again, Do you have any idea what you were doing?

  I speak to Sam, "I'm just trying to buy a blouse and be nice to this lady, who seems to be in dire straits.  I don't like the idea of anybody being in need of money to buy food and stuff, and I get the impression that she's very poor.  Is there anything wrong with being nice?"

You feel suprise inside of your mind from Sam.  There's a difference between being charitable and giving up a fortune!  Sam forces you to walk outside and shove the money into your pocket.  Your head moves from side to side, looking about to make sure no one sees something.

   I find myself losing control of my temper.  I clich my teeth and try to force my feet  to stand still.  I clench my fists.
   "O.k. Sam, speak, tell me exactly what I did wrong?  What is this place, who are these people?  I need to know more about my surroundings if I'm to help you find a suitable host.  I'd like to visit a restaurant and mingle with the crowds, hunting for a young man that would suit your needs.  But in order to get into a restaurant I have to fit in myself, I have to dress like a local.  And the only way I"m gonna look like a local is if I'm wearing their clothes. And the only way I"m gonna be wearing their clothes is if I buy them.  So speak to me.  How in the world am I gonna help you if you don't let me do the things I need to do?????"
   I feel my rage subsiding as I speak.  I don't usually stay angry for very long.

You feel the presence of an irate Sam inside of your mind.  Hey, I was just looking out for you!  There's no more money like that left in the world.  The currency is on white pieces of paper.  Green money is ancient, and very rare.  It's worth a fortune!  Sam didn't bother trying to move you anymore, and waited there for your response.

  "I'm sorry Sam," I apologize, "I am totally clueless here.  So what should I do?  how am I to fit in so that I can find you a host?  I must find some way to purchase the items we need.  Perhaps I can go to an antique shop and sell one of my paper money for new currency?  Do you know of an antique dealer that is reputable and fair?"  I kinda felt like Captain Kirk, when faced with trying to dole out money to his crew.  I laugh at myself when I recall his line, "they still use money here?"

You won't find anyone who's fair when it comes to exchanging that currency.  The only ones who can afford it have antiques shops in the upper city, back where we were before.  Remember the snobs?  They're the only ones with enough money to buy democratic currency.  Unless you have something else to do here, we should head up there before word gets around and someone attacks us.

   I sigh, "but what good will be it to return to 'the land of the snobs' when they won't even give us the time of day?  You saw what happened when I tried to purchase decent clothing from them.  At least these lower class people responded to me politely.  Perhaps we'd be better off just leaving the city all together and finding some nice quiet rural town.   Perhaps the rural citizens will be more open to strangers.   But I do need to try to find some local currency, regardless of where we decide to go. Perhaps we can try a few antique shops and try to sell my one dollar bills.  If I lose a few of those, it won't be as bad as losing some of the larger denominations.  And surely a one dollar bill will land me a few dollars of the new money."

No, that's not an option.  The only people who could afford even a single dollar live in the rich parts.  Plus, they shouldn't disrespect you as much once you present such currency to them.  They will respect your wealth greatly.

   "well, let's return to the wealthy part of town and try another shop.  this time maybe I'll wave a dollar bill at them, make them see I have money.  maybe then they'll let me buy some clothes.  I'm getting hungry myself and want to get something decent to wear so we can go eat,"  I tell Sam, trying to turn my feet back to the wealthier side of town.

You start heading to the wealthy part of the city, asking where the nearest antiques shop is.  To your luck, one of the wealthy individuals, a nice man, actually tells you where to go.

And soon enough you find your way to a decent antiques shop, with what appeared to be an insurmountable amount of useless stuff.  There were some laptops in the corner, however.  He almost said something, and then you showed him three dollar bills.  His face instantly brightened and he said, "Yes, miss?  Are you here to trade or sell?"

I try to act nonchalant.  "I found these dollars in the attic of my house.  They are useless to me.  I was wondering how much you'd give me for them?"  I try to act as if I don't know the value of them, which I don't.  But I was thinking that when he gave me a price, whatever he quoted, I'd sigh and say that would be a great starter price at the auctions.  Then I'd turn as if to leave, so that maybe he'll get nervous and offer more.

Your plan doesn't seem to work at first.  His reply is "fifty dollars for the lot."  After which, you manage to make it all the way outside.  You just pass his shop windows and are about to turn around when he's up to you from behind already.  "Mam, perhaps we could uh..negotiate on a better price?  How about a hundred fifty a piece?"

You feel Sam speaking to you, and he says, Don't take it.  They should be a little over twice that a piece, unless things have changed since I've been gone.

   I mumble to Sam, "I'll accept his offer for now, it does sound reasonable.  Perhaps later we'll have more room to negotiate. But I'm getting a little hungry and also a little tired of all the stares."
  I turn to the gentleman, "that sounds reasonable.  If I were to go to auction I might not get any better.  Thank you."

The man's smile is wide and he directs you inside.  On his counter there's a swipe machine and he points to it, saying, "Okay, just swipe your money card through and it'll transfer the money into it."

You don't feel Sam offering you any guidance on this concept.

   I blush.  "I'm sorry, but I'm from another province where we don't use automated teller machines.  Could it be possible that you could just give me currency rather than credit?"

"That's strange," the man says, looking at you with an awkward glance, which he quickly corrects.  "I'm sorry, mam.  I won't question your origin.  I'll gladly write you a check that you can transfer into your account once you get to a bank, or once you have the bank make you one."  He starts writing something down on a white sheet of paper, approximately the size of a dollar bill.

   Not wishing to make a scene, but unsure how I'd manage to cash a check, I allow him to make out the document.  Perhaps I can go to a bank, I  muse, and get it cashed.  Sometimes banks will cash checks, for a small fee.  I smile as the transaction is complete, then turn to go.

You walk out the door and it's the scene in your life that's slowly growing more and mroe familiar.  (Where do you want to go?)

   Check in hand, I look up and down the street for a bank. I hope they'll cash my check without too much fuss, I'd even accept a small fee.

When you walk into the bank with your money, they look at you strangely when you don't have a card to transfer the check into.  Luckily, a polite man at the front desk is willing to help you out, thinking that you may be from a very uncivilized country from scholorship or something.  He gives you some forms that you may sign and he could give you a national number and a money card.

  I thank the polite man and stammer a feeble apology, "I just arrived from a distant province.  we do things differently in my neck of the woods."
   I reach for a pen, holding it in my left hand, and proceed to scrawl out my name, Donna Gail Sunday. I decide to use my maiden name because it is always a conversation opener.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:21, Mon 07 Aug 2006.

He smiles and says to you, "Welcome, just follow me and we can get you a card."  He leads you over to a machine and tells you to put your hand on a scanner, and smile for a picture in front of a camera that is a little further off.  You can choose whether or not to sign your name with your other hand for the card.

  I attempt to smile for the camera, but I'm like Lurch, smiling isn't my forte.
  "how long do I have to wait for my card?"  I query, wondering if there is anything else I need to sign.   I always get so flustered when applying for a driver's license or stuff like that, never know if I have the right documents and all.

Summer:

You only have to wait a few minutes until he calls you up and presents you with your card.  He also puts the money you have on you into the account, and shows you how to work the card.  There's a spot on the bottom.  You simply swipe it through the machine and type in how much you transfer on the machine.

After that, he politely escorts you to the door and you see him approach another woman with the same curtious smile on his face.

   Glad that I have some "money" in my pocket, I turn to the task at hand.  I scurry for a clothing store in the hopes that this time I"ll be waited on.   I'm getting very hungry and am eager to find a restaurant.  But fear I won't be allowed in with the garb I am wearing.
 I tell myself that if the store owner is rude again I'll resort to stealing from baskets at laundromats, if such a place exists around here.  I'd steal clothes from a clothesline, but I suspect people in this day and time don't hang out their wash no more.  Then a notion pops into my head, maybe a dry cleaner?  Chewing on these thoughts I enter the clothing store, hoping I won't have to resort to petty theft.

Summer:

You walk into the store, and a woman is about to shoo you away when you raise the card.  She instantly smiles, and leads you over to the womens' section.  She points out nice (aka expensive) skirts, jeans, and tops.  She seems willing to help you out.

    Feeling like that character in Pretty Woman, I rummage through the racks looking for a nice skirt and blouse ensemble.   I try to find the cheapest possible, taking a few into the dressing room to try on.  After deliberating a while I bring 2 skirts and 2 blouses to the cash register, one to wear and one to change into.  I hope I have enough funds leftover for a sandwich, as I was getting more and more hungry every minute.

Summer:

It doesn't take long for you to find the things that you were browsing for, but the cheapest stuff here is $30 a skirt and $40 a blouse.  You take it to the front and she rings it up as $140 and gestures towards the machine to the side that you swipe your card through.

   Feeling nervous, because I don't think I have that much in my account, I go to swipe my card, wandering if I'll get credit for anything over what I have.  Perhaps if I can't get credit I can just stick with one outfit.

Summer:

You swipe your card through the machine and transfer $140 to the business.  You see your account drop the amount, it now at $310 (you sold the man in the antique shop 3 dollars, right?).

  Embarassed at my lack of mathematics skills, and relieved that I still have money in my account, (I have been known to go 2 months before balancing the checkbook) I take my purchases.  I look about for a restroom, thinking that I'll change then head to a restaurant.
   I'm also beginning to wonder if Sam is still with me.  He's been awfully quiet.   A part of me is glad that he's slipped away, maybe he'll forget me and leave me be.  But another part of me points out that I did agree to help him.  And I always try to finish what I start, if I can.
  So thinking, I head for a restroom to change, hoping Sam will remain silent while I do so.  Wouldn't want him to show up while I was changing.

Summer:

When you go into the changing room, you hear Sam's voice, but weaker, more distant.  Don't worry, I won't watch.  You sense something different this time, almost a depressing presence about him and the weakness isn't a comforting thing to you as much as you'd normally believe it would be.

   I dress, then emerge out onto the street.
   "Sam," I query, "any ideas for a good restaurant?  You seem depressed, anything on your mind? have I done or said something wrong?"

Summer:

You feel his voice in your head again, but still there is a distance about him, like a signal growing weaker by the seconds.

I'm sorry, but I may not have been completely honest with you before.  I'm not a spirit or anything, but rather an entity.  I used to be a psychic trained by the government, and when I began to question them, they disected me alive to study me.  I used a quick out-of-body ability and have been feeding off of your own psychic energies for a while.  You have extreme potential with this, but currently you're not powerful enough for me to function fully in you.  That's why I'll probably be 'shorting out'.  Now, it is at least partially clear to you as to what Sam actually is.

   "I'm so sorry, Sam,  I sensed you weren't really a bad guy, that's why I felt I wanted to help you.  Let's go get that sandwich, then maybe I can think better and see what we can do.  Knowing what I know now, I guess I can continue to play host.  I just thought you'd be more comfortable in a guy.  Would you like to get revenge on those government officials who did this to you?  I've never harmed anyone before, except in my imagination.  But I'm sure we can figure out something to make them feel guilty about what they have done."

Summer:

Sam speaks to you through your mind after you're through changing (OOC:  what did you change into and what did you do with your other 'strange' clothes?).  Currently, you can't sustain me with me constantly being concious.  Maybe if we were to train your mind some, then you'd have a higher capacity.  Would you be up for this?  It isn't necessarily easy, and we need to find some place where no one can watch.  Maybe we could practice behind a dumpster in an alley or out of town in some small wooded area?  You feel the connection with him still weaken.

   "Let's go get a bite to eat first," I tell Sam, feeling a wee bit selfish.  "perhaps after I eat I'll feel stronger in my mind and body.  Besides, we might find somebody in the restaurant that will be a more suitable host.
    I smooth the skirt of my new outfit, liking the feel of the material, then swing the bag containing the extra outfit and my old clothes as I move down the street in search of sustanance.
   As I move I ponder to myself if I would have the guts to take on the officials that had did this to Sam.  I liked playing games in which I took on the role of an adventurer who killed for treasure.  But I wondered if I'd be able to actually kill in real life.   then I wonder if this is real life.  The memories of my car falling over the bridge seem hazy and vague now.  Maybe this is all a coma induced dream, I ponder.  If this is a dream, then I can do and be anything I want.
   So thinking I look about for a restaurant.  I think to myself, I'll ask Sam to tell me where to find the people who killed him.  Maybe if nothing else I can seek justice.

Summer:

You move down the street more and find a gaudy-looking restraunt.  It looks like it would cost you an arm and a leg to eat at.  Sam's two cents towards that is, You'll probably find a cheaper place in the other district that you were in before.

When you ask Sam about the ones who had him killed, he speaks into your mind, I'm not going to tell you.  It will only get you killed for you to know about that.  You're not dreaming, and you're not a hero.  Don't think about getting vengance for me.  Once we find me a body, I'll take that revenge myself.  I'm not going to be able to talk to you for much longer, and might not last through your whole meal.  It might be a better idea to teach you right now.

  "teach me what? Sam," I query, as I turn towards the cheaper side of town.  It would have been fun to eat in  a swanky restaurant, but I had limited funds right now.  Maybe they have fast food, I think, as I turn my steps to the other side of town.
  I ponder on what Sam had said, about letting him seek vengence on his death.  That was what we had planned earlier, finding him a host.  But we had gotten sidetracked with mundane needs, like clothing and food.  Surely we can find a host at the restaurant, I think.
   So I pick up my steps, walking as quickly as possible without actually running, in my haste to find Sam a host before his strength was  gone.

Summer:

Sam speaks to you in your mind more.  You feel like the connection grew more solidity for some reason.  I was going to teach you a form of focus.  I can sense that you have a lot of potential, but it's still untapped.  This would be the first step.  It lets your mind see outside of your body with your eyes closed for practical use, and even travel away from your body.

You see a nice little place with a sign saying Rick's Fried Foods.  Another you find is Sam's Gyros.  Nothing else is in sight right now.

   Sam's gyros sounds like a good place to eat.  I had never tried gyros before.  Seems like they are a type of sandwich.
  As I make my way to the shop I pondered my situation.   I was now feeling guilty by not allowing Sam to use me completely as a host.  Would it really be so bad to let him take over and seek out his revenge?  Maybe once he had avenged his death he would be at peace and I could have my own mind and body back.  If I don't find a suitable host at the restaurant, I decide, I'll give in and let Sam use me.  I wonder what it would be like, would their be a kernal of my own awareness?  Or would I be totally surpressed?

Summer:

In the gyro place, you get a decently fast meal.  There were only a few people in there and you felt Sam speak to you.  Geez, are there only weak minds now adays?  None of these guys have any potential.

After you get outside and propose your thoughts to him, he replies, No, that won't work.  It would take too much energy to take full control of you, and your mind isn't strong enough to support me yet.  If you want to help, then we need to find somewhere private so that we can increase your mental capacity.

   Belly full, I begin to look about for a vacant building in which I can focus my thoughts, so that I can give Sam aid.  I try to be careful not to alert anybody's attention while I look about for a suitable spot.

Once you go outside, it seems that you have some luck.  There's an alleyway right on the other side of the street.  You can't see down it, but it doesn't seem that bad from your current position.

  I am hesitant about alleys, one never knows what might be lurking down them.  I had hoped to find an abandoned building.  But maybe the alley will work. So hesitantly I venture in.

You find that the alley is abandoned, no one in sight.  There's a high fence in the middle of it, and about twenty feet past that is the other opening to get out of the alley on the other side.  No one is out right now, not that you think they'd pay any mind to you if they were.

   Satisfied that we are alone,  I ask Sam, "what do we do now?  What must I do to prepare myself for takeover?"

What we need to do is train your psychic energy, psi for short, so that you can support me in this body.  What I want you to do is try to feel psi gaining mass below your breastbone.  Try to picture it gathering.  Once you feel like you have enough, push it up into your chest.  Then, seperate it into your shoulders and push it down your arms and try to get it out of your hands.  Picture it taking the shape of a ball in between your hands.  You feel Sam speaking to you, and leaving your body.  You can feel that his presence is nearby and he finishes talking to you.  Put your hands togeather in any position your comfortable with-vertical, horizontal, neither, or even just one hand if you want.  I just suggest that it'll be easier if your hands aren't touching.

   Feeling a little self conscious (I always feel a little flustered when trying something new)  I take a deep breath to still my nerves, then concentrate as Sam suggested.  I focus my thoughts to the center of my being, as I interpreted Sam's instructions, pulling my hands toward me, then back out again as I project my energies, extending my hands out, palm upwards, as if I was holding my arms out to receive a load of firewood.

You try to feel the presence inside of you as Sam had suggested, and manage to.  You feel something different and feel it move up your chest and split, going into both shoulders.  Then, however, you lose your focus and can't manage to complete it.  You start getting a slight headache and Sam says, That's enough for now.  You don't have any way to get money in this place, do you?  Or a place to stay for that matter.

  Rummaging in my purse for my ibuprophen, I answer Sam's query, "sigh, other than the money I had on me to go grocery shopping, I don't seem to have any other assets.  I could ask around and see if anybody would hire me, but I would have a hard time proving who I am and they'd have a hard time getting references.  Maybe we can find an advertisement for an elderly lady that wants somebody to sit with her at night.  I used to do that in my college days.  It's a great way to make some money and get some free room and board.  Or we could find an abandoned building and camp out.  Or maybe we could find your old home, Sam, and see if anybody is staying there?"  Having found my medicine for my headache, I then turn to return to the restaurant to get some water to wash it down.

You go and wash your face off in the restraunt as well as drink some water.

After you leave, you walk down the street looking for some place to work, not seeing any subdivisions around here.  It just looks like the place is pure city with only apartments so far.  You only see one Help Wanted sign, and it seems to be in a run-down place.  The place is called "Murphy's Sushi Parlor" and it's only a small building compared to the cafes next to it.

   I try to speak to Sam, "where did you used to live?  would your home still be empty you think?  I could try my luck at the Sushi Parlor, although I've never cared for eating raw fish myself, but if others like it, I guess I could serve it."

I didn't have a home, now let's move on.  He seems impatient with that subject, and you look into the Sushi Parlor before walking in.  It seems almost run-down, even though there's a Help Wanted sign.  The man inside is of asian descent and looks mean with that knife in his hand.

  Put off by Sam's shortness, I hesitantly enter the restaurant.  I give the owner a pleasant smile and ask him, "I noticed the Help Wanted sign.  I was wondering if I could apply for the position?"

You walk into the Sushi Parlor and feel like the smell of fish has already consumed you.  It fills your nostrils and you can't help but feel like it's stuck to you.  When you approach the man about the Help Wanted Sign, he glares for a moment, then you can tell that he is sizing you up.  "Can you handle fish?  Can you mop?"  He keeps it short, waiting for an answer.

   I reply to his queries, "I was raised on fish and have a minimum knowledge on the types of edible fish and can usually tell what fish it is by sight.  I know the difference between catfish and halibut, for example.  However, I don't know what types of fish is edible raw, I've always preferred them cooked.  But I learn quickly and have a high IQ.  I am a housewife so know a lot about housecleaning.  And I used to work in a restaurant as a hostess."

He puts his hand to his chin and then shrugs.  "Okay, let's see how you do."  He tosses you a mop and continues, "Let's see how well and quickly that you can mop the entire floor.  That includes the back."

While you're doing this, try to focus yourself like you were in the alley.  You need all of the practice that you can get, but when you get a headache you should stop.

  I proceed to mop the floor, but in a daydream, for I have let my mind wander, channeling my energies away from this time and place, so that it seems as if only my body is mopping while my mind is elsewhere.
    Although I try my best, however, in the back of my mind are nagging concerns.  Where will I spend the night?  Where will I find my supper?  Am I doing enough now to assist Sam or is finding a job and getting settled hampering his efforts?

You proceed to do your work, mopping the floor.  Then, you feel a small hint of something, an instinctual fear.  You can feel Sam light up inside of you and his perception going all around, crazily.  He mentally speaks to you, Get out of here!  We have to leave!  You feel an urge to run and you begin heading for the front door.

Then, you find that there's someone meeting you there.  Four men in black suits had just entered the building.  Three of them have guns out pointing at you.  No!  I won't let them!  Sam shouts in your mind and you can feel him leaving your body, going out in front of you.

The one in the middle without his gun drawn pulls out another metalic divice.  It looks like a suction of some sort with a clear plastic container connected to it.  He points it at Sam.  A bright red line traces around Sam and he's pulled slowly into the suction.  You can tell that he's trying to fight it, but then your focus turns to the others.  They bring up their guns and fire.  Your world spins out.

[You're dead...again.]