Letter Eight

"Wow, these girls are doing so well with this letter game thing," ....said no one ever. lol.

Well, what can I say. We are not the best about about writing letters. *Sigh* We do try! Really!

Most of the time.

Anyway, since Treskie and I enjoy writing these letters we are going to plow doggedly on, whether any of you still care or not.

This letter is a good one. I am intrigued by it and am working on an appropriate response. It's not proving easy. As Treskie put it, we went along, writing away blissfully..."Lalalala!" and then "Boom!" Literally. And suddenly things are a little dark. Thanks Treskie. Now I need to up my game too. *Wink.* When a story starts to drag, blow something up. *Nods*

For any of you that are new...or just totally confused and want to re-read the letters, they are all under "Letter Game" on my page listing. Got it? Good.

At any rate...enjoy! 


From: Miss Joan McTavish
To: Miss Peggy Douglas
December 23, 1924


Dear Peggy:

I am writing to tell you I'm alright. Don't worry. I'm alright.

I'm sure you've heard about the explosion at the palace by now, and I'm sorry I didn't contact you sooner.

Prince George is safe. Or as safe as he can be under the circumstances.

Here. Let me start from the beginning.

Last week, as you probably know, there was a massive set of explosions at the palace. It was around the middle of the night, and I was technically off duty. I was jerked out of my sleep by the first bomb going off at the East Gate. So, off duty or no, I strapped on my set of knives, grabbed my revolver, and took off to the the Prince's bed chambers. When I got there, I saw four of the other members of his security detail crowded around the door. Sir Dominic was slamming his shoulder into the slab of oak, yelling both the Prince's name and the name of the security member in the room with him.
I hurried up to the boys in the hall and said, "What's going on?"
"There's been an attack," John, (a very nice fellow that I rather liked.) "Prince's George's door is locked from the inside and there is no answer. We can't get in."
I nodded. For a few more moments, we waited while Dominic continued in his attempt to knock down the door, and then another explosion rocked the palace. This one was much, much closer. Even with my training to keep my balance no matter what happens, I was knocked off my feet by the force of it. The end of the hallway burst into flames. And just when I thought it couldn't get worse, two black clad men emerged from the smoke, wielding a type of machine gun I'd never seen before. They loosed a torrent of bullets into us. Without thinking, I said the incantation for a shield spell. I threw it up around myself and the person closest to me. (because, as you know, even though those bloody shield protect against almost everything, they are only powerful enough to protect two people.) Dominic and I crouched together behind the shield, watching helplessly as the assassins' weapons took out the rest of the security team. Dominic reached for his revolver, shifted position slightly, and two bullets later the assassins were down.
Our problem wasn't over though, the fire was still roaring it's way down the corridor. For a moment, I dropped my shield and ran to check on the other members of the security team. They were all dead. My mind went numb, Peggy. All that training, all those theoretical lessons at Uni never prepared me for the real thing. So I stood there like a halfwit until Dominic shook my shoulder hard, "Can your shield protect against flame, Joan?"
"I don't know."
"Well pray that it does, because we won't make it out of here if it doesn't." he gestured and I saw that somehow there was now fire at both ends of the corridor, working its way to us. I said something I'm ashamed of and muttered, "I can try."
"Good girl." he said, and then he raced toward the fallen assassins. When he came back, he carried their machine guns. "Here." he said, "I have an idea. Aim at where the bolt would be. We need to see if the prince is alright." (highly unlikely, under the circumstances. )
Guns are all fairly similar, so it didn't take a minute for me to work out how this one functioned. I'm not sure what size caliber they used, but the bullets peppered the impenetrable oak door and splintered it as though it were made out of pine. Even so, there wasn't enough time to break down the door before the fire was upon us. Even from a distance, the heat was like a solid force, and up close, it was unbearable. So I let my gun drop, and threw up the strongest shield I could muster. It didn't help much. Dominic stood beside me, continuing the attack on the door. The twin fires surged toward us, vying for the last of the air and wood to burn. Dominic dropped his weapon and took a running leap at the door. He hit it feet first and this time, it buckled. Together we bolted in and found the Prince limp on the ground while the guard who'd been posted in the room grappled with another black-clad assassin. Without thinking, I drew one of my knives and threw it at the enemy. Thank goodness I've practiced with those so much, because the assassin fell instantly. Dominic checked the Prince for life and I yelled at Simon, the other guard, to help me move the mattress, because the only way I could see to get out of that room alive was to go out the window, which was two stories up. Together we maneuvered the mattress across the window ledge and let it fall below. Dominic and Simon picked up the Royal Dead Weight and leaped out. I followed. Seconds later, the entire second floor erupted into flames, spewing fiery debris over our heads.
We looked on in horror as the realization of what had happened set in. Finally, Simon said, "Where to now, Dom?"
We deliberated briefly about what to do and where to go. Dominic had just become the senior member of P. George's security team, and he looked completely at loss.
I said, "My parents live not two miles from here." so we went there. It was a rough journey, Simon had twisted his ankle in the fall from the window, and Prince George refused to wake up, to it was up to Dominic and I to see that we weren't followed. Twice we ran into assassins. It's a miracle we made it to my parents' house alive.

So that's where we are now. Mum and Father took over everything instantly. I must say it's a good thing Mum was a nurse before she got married. I think we would have lost the Prince otherwise, seeing as he'd sustained a severe bullet wound to the chest and a massive bump on the head because we fairly threw him out his bedroom window. Mum put him in an Enchanted Healing Coma. She says he'll come out of it when his body is ready.

Until then, it seems, our country is leaderless. The King and Queen were killed in the attack. Almost everyone in the palace was. I swear it was luck that got us out. There is a search out on P. George, it seems someone found the mattress under his window and put the pieces together.

I'm irritated at myself for not being in more control of the situation. All those years at Uni, and I still acted absurdly like a civilian when I should have been professional and well trained. Father says not to be too hard on myself, because it was my first time in a honest to goodness, dangerous situation. I still fill a bloody idiot.

As such, I have put a spell on this letter so that only you may read it. (it will sense your fingerprints) If it is intercepted, it will appear that we are just silly girls panicking over the attack and simpering over some boy. It was the best I could do under the circumstances. I've enclosed the instructions for the spell so that you may perform it, should you decide to reply.

I hope our beloved Royal Dead Weight comes out of his coma soon. The King's relatives are clamoring for his position. And the magicians and philosophers are being complete fools about the matter.

Don't tell anyone where I am, m'dear. Not even the Detective.
Your worried:
Joan.

Letter Six

It has been a long while between letters and I'm sorry. Though, technically  it's not my fault. I have just been waiting on Treskie! lol. We're going to try to be a bit more on it from know on. *Nods* Anywhoosle, here ya go. :D


From: Miss Joan MacTavish
To: Miss Peggy Douglas
December 2, 1924


Peggy~


You poor dear! How dare someone try to blow you up! I have never been to flummoxed. You are not the sort of person people usually send bombs to. You are... you're... you are sweet. People don't send bombs to sweet people! I cannot understand it. I don't see why someone would do that to you.


I know bombs.
I love bombs.
Bombs are devastatingly interesting.
But bombs kill people.


So yes. Obviously someone tried to kill you, and thank heaven that someone bungled his bomb. (in his defense, bombs are very tricky.... especially Charm Bombs... just be glad you didn't get one of those. ) Bungled bomb or not, I'm worried sick! That someone went out of their way to send you one is awful. I'm very glad that you secured the help of the Private Detective. Your Sean Stevens sounds like a character. I must admit, your description of your conversation did amuse me thoroughly, though his customer service leaves much to be desired. I did a quick background check on him, just to be safe, (the palace has the most extravagant data log in the library) and he sounds like a sterling, up-and-up sort of chap. Oh, he's had his share of mishaps, but overall, he seems a decent sort. He has high marks in his business, apparently he is a crime solving demon. People who have contacted him give him high marks for his detecting skills. From what I've read, Peggy, if anyone can find your bomber, it's he.
In the meantime, Peggy, you might call my father. I know you don't trust the police (and I don't blame you.... things have been........... tense.... lately.) But my father could offer you some protection. And you really ought to have something more than a PI for protection. Get a revolver. I love those. And a knife. Stock up on weapons. And unless you exactly who your mail is from, refrain from opening any packages.


If you have any pieces of the bomb that you haven't gotten rid of, send them to me. I know someone who works with bombs who could probably discern something about your attacker from the remains.....




My news, compared to yours, is dreary.


I'm bored.


I have never been so bored.


Who knew that being part of Prince George's security detail would have no sort of excitement whatsoever? I mean, at least a Uni, I could count on someone breaking an extremity during the Combat Classes. But.... here? The Prince is such a pansy no one feels like taking the time or effort to hurt or otherwise harm His Majesty! Don't misunderstand me, I don't want anything to happen to his Royal Idiot, but really. When the bloody UNIVERSITY offered more in the way of excitement, there is something wrong with the world! Oh, I know that technically it's more dangerous being employed as a royal security guard (if someone were to overpower me, he probably wouldn't stop at bone breaking as at Uni) But day after day, the same rigmarole of catering to P. George is... it's very wearing. He is absurdly aloof when it comes to anyone beneath him. And he's dim. But hey ho. We can't all be geniuses can we?


In place of excitement, I've taken to going to the wonderful Practice Hall. I can beat the living stuffing out of the dummies. There many different weapons I ought to start being proficient with, and I think I'm on to something in my research on animating practice dummies so they can move around on their own while you attack them. It's a work in progress but I enjoy it... However, Dominic Rolando comes at the same time I do. He's one of those irritating sorts who looks as though he's having a laugh at everyone else's expense. He says that this is just the way his face is designed but I disagree. I think he really is laughing at everyone. ( I wouldn't mind, you know. I enjoy laughing at people too, I just don't like being the one laughedat. I amuse him. And it irks me.)
I wish he would not come to the PH at the same time I do. He comments on my technique frequently. Just the other day he said my punch was weak and I did not follow through. (Of all the....) And then he said my aim was off when I threw my knives. My aim is never off when I throw my knives. My knives are perfectly balanced and I have practiced with them since Father showed me how to use them when I was six. My aim was off my Aunt Janet! His eye sight is terrible if he thinks that nonsense. If he doesn't stop commenting rudely on my technique I fear he will end up taking on of my "weak and un-followed through" punches to his left eye.


Have you heard anything about what's been happening between the Magicians and Philosophers in Parliament? Hmmmm. To be honest, I think if the King does not put a stop to their increasing control over everything, from choosing where people will work, to taxes, to lawmaking, they will become powerful enough to dethrone him. Which.... well we must hope that doesn't happen. Something about High Chancellor Hugo Vendrick unnerves me.


I miss you, Peggy! Do see if you can talk to my father. Make sure Sean Stevens is speedy with his investigation. And carry the revolver I've decided to enclose in this package. Just in case. Don't tell anyone, I'm not sure if sending civilians guns and ammunition is technically legal.


Take care.


Your very bored:


Joan.

Letter Game

The next letter is out! It's over at Treskie's blog.

See? I told you I'd do it. *Smirk*

Tomorrow is the last day to enter the giveaway. I can't wait to see who wins! :D

That's it.

Goodnight all.

God Bless!
Amy

Farewell to February.

It's the last day of February, People! Well, golly-dang, this month was pretty much gone in a blink! And I'm like, "Wait a second! I'm still working on my New Years bucket list!" *Blush.* Yeah...

This is a rather perfect description of February. (If you've never seen the Pirates of Penzance, you should really get a copy and watch it. It is hilarious.)

No copyright infringement intended. Link to original video here.

Actually, February has been a rather pleasant month. It's even been sunny.


Anywhoosle.


This is really just a quick post to promise you all that the next installment of the letter game will, AND I PROMISE, be posted tomorrow. *Nods firmly.*


So stay tuned. (Cause I know you're all secretly dying to read the next letter, right? Good.)

Goodbye, February. You were swell. And I really do mean that. You impressed me with how un-February-ish you were. So thank you.

Hello, March. You have many nice things to offer. Mainly, Easter. Looking good, my friend. Please, oh please, do something exciting for me, eh? I'd appreciate it. Exciting, not inconvenient, capice?

Oh, don't forget to enter the giveaway if you haven't already. Time is almost up! *Wink*

And now, because one cannot simply do a goodbye to February post without posting this song, I give you....*Drum roll*....Josh Groban's February Song! Like, duh. :D

I love this song so much. The lyrics are just fantastic...*Sigh.*

Cheerio, my good people!

God Bless,
Amy

Letter game

Here's the next letter. It's a good one! Things are going to start getting exciting now...

From: Miss Joan McTavish
To: Miss Peggy Douglas
November the fourteenth, 1924

Dear Peggy,

I am sorry to have not written sooner. I have no excuse really.


You expressed concern for my well-being at the palace... and well.... I'll admit, it has not been a perfect dream. (There's a certain member of my co-workers who insists that I should not be there because I will slow everyone down. Ha! He's forty-five! If anyone is going to slow the Security down, it's him, the bugger.)


I arrived at work on Monday, at seven-twenty-five, because I always like to be a little early for appointments and such. I was met at the front gate by Father's friend, Benedict Stewart, Chief of His Majesty's Security. Mr. Stewart is a rather stern individual of around sixty-five, with thick white hair and a mustachio to match. He is definitely ex-military and carries himself like a man in his thirties.
"Miss MacTavish?" he asked. I nodded. He introduced himself and immediately led me to the staff quarters. Apparently I am to live at the palace, as well as work there! This took me aback-- Father had certainly not mentioned anything of the sort to me, and I said so.
"Oh, indeed?" Mr. Stewart replied over his shoulder, leading me through absolute gads of hallways which were covered in lush red carpet. "Well, it's part of the position. It wouldn't help the Prince much if his security lived across town, now would it?"
I blushed and looked down. "No. I suppose not." we were silent for a bit. I did not realize the Palace was so large, you wouldn't think it to look at it, but there you go. I don't think I flatter myself when i say that I have a fairly good sense of direction, but by the time we reached my quarters, even I was completely turned around in the vast maze of hallways. Mr. Stewart indicated a stained cherry wood door, identical to the twenty others which lined either side of the long hall, save for the fact that it had J. MacTavish emblazoned at eye level. "This is your room. The lavatory is at the end of the hall, though you do have a private bath in your living space." (well, that's a relief, I must say!) "Here is your schedule," he handed me a type-written piece of paper, "You'll be expected to be prompt, you understand. Tardiness is not acceptable when the Prince's life may depend on you."
"Yes sir." I agreed.
After that, he showed me around the rest of the palace, marching quickly and pointing with his thumb. "Left is the servant's quarters. The kitchens are on the right. Linen rooms all along this corridor. Cellar's through there. Washrooms. Practice Hall for weapon's training and hand to hand combat." (I made a mental note to look in there the next chance I got.) "Down these stairs are the Royal Family's chambers, as well as the guest rooms." I looked and saw that the carpets had changed to a bluey green color, and the wood panels were darker. Art and tapestries hung from the walls. There was a massive landing edged with an oak rail. Mr. Stewart forged on, "These are all guest rooms. Near the end, those two massive sets of doors? Prince's chambers and the Royal Suite for their Majesties."
We descended another flight of stairs, these much wider and grander than those before. We were in the main part of the palace now. I saw the private dining room, the dining room for private parties, the official dining room.... as well as the several different lounges, music rooms, art rooms. They seem to have three of everything! One for the private use of the Royal Family (which I will refer to as RF from now on) another for the semi private use of the RF's closest friends, and another for the public nobility. Talk about excessive enjoyment!
Anyway. After my tour, Mr. Stewart told me that we were going to meet the men whom I would be working with, in the Practice Hall. "Any questions?" he asked while we made our way there.
"A map?" I said dryly. "It's a bit much to take in."
"Nonsense. The Palace is enchanted. Anyone who has permission to enter can find their way around without a problem. Too many maids got lost."
"Oh." I said and pondered this.

It turns out that I was not officially on duty until the next week, until then I was just shadowing a more senior member of the Prince's security detail. His name is Dominic Rolando, and he's a bit much, honestly: seems to think he knows everything there is to know about security. Oh well.
There are six members of the detail including me. The eldest retired just before I got there which is why I was hired so quickly. It wouldn't do for Prince George to be one security guard short, now would it? There's only three of us attending to the Prince at once, we rotate shifts every two days. Now that I've been here for a fortnight or so, everything's very metronomic. My schedule never changes and nothing ever happens. I just stand there... being a shadow for the Prince. (Who by the way, is the most boring young man I've ever met. He does not speak to any of us except the head of the security. [To do so would be beneath him, I suspect] He never rises until after eleven, eats his breakfast so slowly it's cold by the time he's done, and after that meanders about his duties. He's a pansy, really. Let's hope he grows up a touch before inheriting the throne.)


I do love my room though. It's quite nice. It's painted in muted tones of brown and green, which are the Royal Colors. The bed is wonderful and now that I've moved in, it is fun to be on my own.


The Practice Hall is amazing. Since the Prince doesn't rise until after eleven, and it would be inappropriate for me to be near him while he sleeps, (thank goodness. He probably drools. Ahem.) I have a few hours free time do what I want. The PH is stocked full of my favorite weapons, there's a rock wall which I climbed triumphantly, and.... well there's everything Uni had and more. And it's heaven to hack at a life sized dummy with a sword when I'm upset. Ha!


You have every right to be utterly infuriated. It was most unjust of the School Board to expel you without even considering your side of the story. Personally, I think that sounds a bit extreme. It was just one baby-grand, after all. And you did offer to replace the dratted thing. Call me suspicious, but I really think that expelling you over an instrument (baby-grand or not) is just.... excessive.
Anyway,
I think if I hadn't grown up in such an excitement packed environment, I could quite like living quietly in the city. You know I've always had a weakness for coffeeshops. I think it's all the warm colors and smell of coffee. I do love a cup of coffee. (that's another thing my room has. A coffee brewer! It's all pipes and valves and steams the most delightful aroma when the coffee comes down.)


Hmmmm. I've never heard of a power shift. I'll look it up. (There is also a massive library here, with an entire section dedicated to magic.)


As for the magicians and philosophers of Parliament, it's not like they can do much without the King's approval. The sillies. They think they own everything. But you're right, if someone does not put a stop to their bickering one of the councils is sure to have a casualty. I think they are upsetting His Majesty. I've never seen someone inhale Stomach Relief pills so frequently!


Right. Well. Dominic has ordered me down to the Practice Hall to see how my weapon's skills are. (As if signing my name with an M.A. wasn't enough proof that I know how to handle a revolver.) That twit will end up with my fist in his jaw if he doesn't stop giving me a hard time. I am just as good as any of his men, so there!


I do need to trot though. Cheers!


Joan.


P.S. I tested the palace's enchantment. Mr. Stewart was correct. I haven't gotten lost once.

Happy finds

I love it when I find cool stuff at a second hand store! It makes my day. It's way more fun than finding something cool at a normal store, because I can usually afford stuff at a second hand store so much more than a normal store.

I found a beautiful hardbound copy of "The Outlaws of Ravenhurst" by Sister Imelda Wallace. It's one of my very favorite books ever. I mean, it's called "the Outlaws of Ravenhurst"! What's not to love? If you can find it anywhere, give it a read. It's brilliant.
Quick summary:
It takes place in Scotland (always a bonus) in the 1600's. It's about a very brave little boy named Charles Gorden, Earl of Ravehurst. He was taken away from his home as a baby for safety, but now, at ten years old, has been brought back to Ravenhurst by his nasty, scheming Uncle Rodger. It's at a time when being a Catholic is enough to get you killed. Charles is a Catholic--his Uncle isn't. * Tension*
It's just a very well-written story about a boy that is brave enough to stand up for his Faith no matter what. He's not a perfect kid, but he's plucky, and too clever by half. Not so unbelievably good that he's fake, but so good you want to be a better person yourself. A proper hero.
Plus, the illustrations are lovely.

Well, when I say lovely...

I actually mean, exciting.

Kilts. Now you're talking!

A very happy find, indeed. It's such a good book. *Sigh* I think I shall have to go re-read it...*Smile.*

I found some Classic Pooh rubber stamps.

I just need to get an ink pad for them. I am absurdly excited about them... I'll probably stamp everything I possibly can. I have a thing for Classic Pooh.

I got these artificial flowers. They were free and I can make hair pretties with them, so that's fun.

It was a fun day.

I also found a really great skirt, but I didn't bother with a picture. You'll just have to take my work for it.

Heads up for you Letter Game readers. The next letter is up on Treskie's blog. Just F.Y.I.

Now I think I'll go get some tea, wrap up in a blanket and watch some Doctor Who. Yes I said it. Doctor Who. It was bound to happen at some point. I'm a bit of a whovian.  Well, with a whole family that's into it, I can hardly resist, now can I?
Besides, I've got a cold. I need a Doctor. *Smirk.*

And just because I'm in a very Phantom of the Opera mood, here's a clip for ya. This Raoul is my favorite. :D



God Bless,
Amy

Letter Two

Alright, so letter one went over better than I thought it would. :p So now here's Treskie's response.

I'm working on my next letter and hope to have that one ready to go in about a week. With good luck.

Enjoy!

From: Miss Joan McTavish

To: Miss Peggy Douglas

October the twenty fourth, 1924

Dear Peggy

Well... bother the University, anyway.

I had only just heard of your unfortunate situation when your letter arrived via the Eagle Airmail, and I must say: you seem to have the most miserable bad luck. While I know that it's not entirely your fault-- you can't help it when your Powers decide to do the exact opposite of what you wanted them to do-- You might have done a few things to provoke the situation. I mean... TNT? You had TNT in the lab, and you are a Pyro. You should have expected an explosion. You were lucky that the class across the hall from you was training in Aquatics, or you would have been in more trouble.
And as for the purple-water-incident... I was there, remember? An entire fortnight of purple water spewing from the faucets is enough to put anyone out of sorts. It was just unfortunate that it stained skin a sort of mauve. (While I felt sorry for most of those people who were showering at the time, I still insist that Charlotte Ramsby had it coming. I'd never met someone so obsessed about her complexion!)
As far as I know, the Board of Magics is right. Some people are born with the Talent, but need a wand to make use of their Powers. You, however, have never needed one before, so I don't believe that is your problem. I really wouldn't recommend breaking into a heavily guarded government building. Not that good of an idea, dear. I'll do a bit of research at the library and see if I can figure out anything about your condition. It is baffling.


My placement went better than I had expected. I took the exam I've been planning on.... the one which would qualify me for any branch of the government requiring the skill sets I've acquired over my lifetime.... and I passed! I received the A mark, which means I'll be following in my parents' footsteps in security and espionage, but I've decided to wait a few years for the espionage as I have been offered the job of being part of the Prince George's security detail. Father's best friend is Chief of Security, so that's good. (I suppose being raised by spies did have it's ups. I've been trained in self-defense and stealth since I could walk, so Uni really only helped me with controlling and strengthening my Powers. Everything else, I'd learned by the time I was twelve.)
Did you know that graduating from certain classes at Uni gives you a title? I've earned the badge of Master Assassin. I find that to be a bit ridiculous. Assassins haven't been used since the Great War, when that vile usurper, Sir John Monreau, attempted to take over the throne. And that was ages ago. I told the school board that I really did not need to have a title but they merely informed me that it was an honor that could not be refused. Rubbish. What they really meant was that I have no choice but to add the two letters M.A. to the end of my name the same way doctors add Ph.D. to theirs. Father says he's proud to have his daughter earn the Master Assassin title, because it means I have the best training England can offer. I still don't like it.
Don't misunderstand me, Peggy. I am flattered to know that I possess the same skill sets as the famous Assassins. But really. I don't want people to think of me as one. Would you? I do not want to go around signing my name as Joan MacTavish, M.A. It's too absurd.
Anyway, I'm staying with Mum and Father for a few days. The interview for my job was yesterday, and I've been officially hired on the Palace Guard. (though, why they call it Palace Guard, I don't know. Most of the time the Royal Family stay at their mansion, and leave the care of the country to Parliament. Sillies) I don't start until Monday, so I have the weekend to myself. Which is lovely, aside from the boredom. Mum said it's good because I ought to rest up. But after going to University for six years, and being used to the Attack and Self-defense class which we had four times a week, resting up does get rather tedious. (Those were my favorite classes you know. I loved the adrenaline rush.)


Your new flat sounds brilliant though. I do love a good library! (However, fifteen flights up without a lift is a bit excessive, even for me.) And you really ought to know me better than to think I would be disappointed in you. You nutter. Sometimes I wish my good fortune would leak over to you. You deserve it after this mess. I hope it rains and rains so that you can dress up in as many coats and scarves as you wish.

I'm off then. Father wants me to prove to him that the Pythagorus Technique really does work on men as well as women. I just hope I'm not so rough that I pull his shoulder out of joint like last time.

Cheers!~Joan.~

The letter game

My sister and I have been toying with the idea of doing a letter game for quite a while. Treskie suggested doing it between our blogs and I thought that was such a cool idea that I was like, "Totally! Let's do this thing!"
And then we nodded and put if off for a few months. *Grin.*




The longer we waited, the more nervous I got about it. I mean, if we start a letter game and post them, we'll have to finish it! *Gasp.* Finish something I start? Can it be done?

The evil little voice in my head insists that this is going to end in disaster.

Hey-ho! We're going to do it anyway.

So how this is going to work is, (and bear with me, here. It might be confusing,) I will send my letter to Treskie and she'll post it on her blog as if she received it, (which she did.) and then she'll send me her response letter and I'll post hers on my blog. Capisce?
Back and forth we'll go, hopefully creating a brilliant story.

We'll add a 'letter game' page to our blogs and sort of archive our letters in one spot so it will be easier to follow as it goes on.

The general idea is to tie the stories together as we go along, so by the time the letter game ends, it's one story.


It begins. Go over to Treskie's blog for the first letter!

*Fingers Crossed* Here's hoping that this will be awesome!

God Bless.
Amy