Part one is here Part 119 is here
[...]
Waking up to warm female is always nice, even if she is confused as to how we got here. Nor does she want to get up, she hides under the covers, holds me for a while, as birdsong fills the room over the sound of the falls. Finally she relents, surfaces, asks for food. So I have to go find it.
I find Fluffy asleep in the dorm room while the rest of them are not around. I check the basement, where I find most of them in the bath. Jenn is supplying the hot water. Though when she sees me she climbs out and walks towards me with a smile on her face.
"This is nice place you've brought us to master, so many bed's, let's sneak off and make love."
She leads me to a bed in the room behind the bath, and pulls me in . She certainly knows how to enjoy herself, I'll say that for her. Once she's finished she again falls off the bed and freaks out on the floor, sparks flying. Finally I ask her if she can cook? She agrees, but only if I don't make her put her clothes back on. Rather her than me.
We head back upstairs, and while Jenn prepares food, I dig a sweetroll or two out of my pack, make some tea, and head back to the room. Vilja is looking pensive when I open the door. I pass her another rock to take the edge off and while her face eases she continues to look at the falls out of the window.
"Food will be ready soon" I say, "though in the meantime, these will have to do" She looks at me distractedly, and mouths "thank you" then goes back to looking at the falls, it's only then that I notice that she wearing the smock her grandmother gave her again.
I leave her to her thoughts, and wander down to see Jenn, who says she'll be done in 15 minutes or so. Go fetch the others. By the time I get everybody out of the baths and upstairs, food is ready. I have to coax Vilja out of bed, for what is, surprisingly good food. Her mother taught her that too apparently.
[...]
It's early afternoon by the time we make it back outside. The sky is cloudy, but it's still quite bright outside, a good day is in prospect. We head back down to the road single file. Half way down we stumble into a fight between a sabre cat, and a small green spriggan. The tree emerges victorious and closes on us, where Fluffy takes it on, though being trampled on by the horses is what does for it in
... keep reading on reddit ➡Everyday is a winding road.
I love when I hear a lyric in a song that rings so true to me.
It gives me hope.... hope that I'm not alone.
Words and songs can be so comforting.
So yesterday.. I was having a tough day in my mind.
I was constantly fighting something ...
Seemed like the day was going on forever.. Twisting, turning.
I felt like I was scared of what was around the next bend in road...........
But this morning after a decent night's sleep .. I feel so much better, different, hopeful. Feel like I can deal with anything that comes my way!
SO....... What I am saying is. Every day can't be perfect or happy. But if we make it through Sober. The next day (today) can be better! But if I would have drank... There would have been NO hope for today. I hope this made sense.........Thank you all for being here 😎
Posting this everyday until I see AA put his money where his mouth is.
@CEOAdam get together with @AlderLaneeggs and let's get this NFT show on the road
Jones swallowed his gum. The racers had been directed such that the winners of the last race were in front. That few feet of edge could make all the difference later on. Several drivers that Jones hadn’t met yet lead the pack. The big rig, by appearances, had made it in seventh or eighth: not bad for a vehicle that was never designed to race. On the open road, it was slower, but Jones figured it simply tanked its way through opposing fire, and didn’t have to slow down to dodge shots or return fire. Jones, as one of the last contestants to cross the finish line, found himself staring at the Virginia Project’s bumper, marked by a ‘PROJECT VA’ license plate. The driver caught Jones looking in his rearview mirror and gave a little wave.
Each vehicle’s tires were locked down by a clamping mechanism that would release on race start. The only one that wasn’t anchored was the bright green motorcycle he’d seen the day before. Jones listened to the announcer list off the order of racers for audio only listeners, and heard that the motorcycle went by the name Gecko. Now that the engine was running, it floated in the air, casting a green light by the hovering plates where its tires should be. She had a small restraint around her waist, tethering her to the ground.
Cars whirred and roared to life as the announcer began explaining the choice Jones—as well as all the other drivers—would have to make. That was several miles out, though. Jones checked his map, slipping another piece of gum into his mouth. The city ahead of them was an old construction: zoned as residential but built as if the homes were meant to become offices when the lease was up. The sad, gray concrete before them was about to be lit up with new life and color, and Jones just hoped the race officials had cleared out all the residents by now. As he waited for the countdown timer to start, he studied the map in tandem with the buildings before him. If they drive anything like they did at the beginning, he thought, there’s gonna be rubble flying from all directions.
3…
2…
1…
The wheel locks released. Right out the gate, everyone had to hit a hard left to get onto the road. The roaring of engines was loud as ever, but no weapons had been fired yet. Each vehicle had started maybe a foot away from their neighbor, and turning like that with fourteen opponents, all without crashing, was a hell of a maneuver. The big, boxy Straightpipe started lining up a shot against his closest rival,
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