I found this paper in an old box in the back of my closet along with a pen in Old York. It' a good thing Mama taught me how to write. but i don't have anything to write about or anyone to write to. i don't even know why I'm writing this nonsense. I'm just wasting trees.
then again, maybe some one will find this and wonder who i am and what i do.
maybe.
I'm Michaela Riley. i clean out houses. When Strauss "negotiates" with someone, i go and
Prologue
It’s a real pain to travel cross-dimensionally. Don't get me wrong, the trip itself is kind of fun when you look back on it. But when you're completely unaware of the whole thing, it could make you a little delirious. For example, an incident that happened to my best friend, Bailey Weir, and me, Arianne Zorion.
Every Wednesday, I spent the night at Bailey's for three reasons:
One: We had a Japanese class at the college with our teacher, Satomi-Sensei
It is a bleak and war-torn wasteland. There is and air of fear and despiration hovering over the freshest battlefield. Animal humanoids littered the ground. Corpses all, frozen in battle positions.
A lone figure is seen, limping away from the battlefield. It is a dog humanoid, badly wounded, wearing the tattered remains of mideival armor. Embolized on the left side of his breastplate is a golden crecent moon.
He makes his way through the slew of bodies, tip toeing around
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