Day Four – Late yesterday, just as the sun set, one of our party grew ill and we were forced to halt and physick him. I was much worried as he seemed to be suffering a response to medication given by a doctor before our party set out, so despite the hour and despite the work left undone, we rode hell for leather to the physician’s office where it was learned that indeed, he cannot take whatever quackery they’d pressed on him. It was our good fortune we did so, because further use of this substance could have compromised him entirely. He is in good condition and good spirits now, stretching the truth to squeeze his lady’s heart. Our small company is subdued, but grateful nothing worse happened. These are such singular times. We found a goodly number of words at the midnight hour, as many as we required to satisfy demand for the day. I gathered them gratefully, but even if none had been forthcoming, I was grateful. I am still on task, having gathered in three days more than six thousand words. Some I fear will need to be thrown back; they are too small, or too blasphemous. Some  reek odiously, as though I’ve pulled them from the very backside of hell, but all will be well.

The morning’s post brought a tide of previously gathered words, which gushed forth in stripes of red and bright green over the black ink, all in need of repair. How this will inhibit the day’s gathering of new words I do not know. Alas, none of the bearers  can be given the work, even though they can most admirably be trusted with more menial tasks.

Coffee is plentiful here. The curse candy of All Hallow’s Eve appears to be entirely gone. It’s interesting to note that the poisoned treats seem to have left dissatisfaction behind among the party. There are those whose clothes fit differently, and those who, now accustomed to its vile effects, crave more. This is a provocative topic for discussion, but after yesterday’s brush with illness, one I choose not to enter into lightly.

For now I tread warily. In gathering food, I remain determined to skirt the edges of the marketplace, shopping only from those stalls with whole, naturally occurring fruits and vegetables, meats whose origins I can be assured of, and whole grains and legumes I can prepare myself. I’m leaving the dark interior stalls with their seductive cans and bottles and prepared and frozen boxes of god-only-knows-what to those with the desire for more adventure than I feel up to right now. Members of the party still bring in contraband daily.

The weather continues fine.

Wherein I move my NaNoWriMo journal here, from the book of faces where I began it:

Day One – We’ve only begun, and some of our large and varied party are already complaining, however potential enemies of our little expedition remain in the far distance. Had an uncomfortable encounter with a certain Doctor, but vanquished him easily with a device my children call the DVR–some aetheric contrivance I believe works as an imaginary bucket into which we can place distractions until such time as our expedition is over.

Food sources still plentiful. Remains of the Feast of All Hallows, some of which I found in the ghoulishly decorated bowl of offerings, have provided extra stimulation but no real nutritional value. Fortunately, groups of stragglers still litter our encampment, and seem to be finishing them off.

In the darkness when I find sleep difficult, I imagine I hear the sound of sleigh bells. As it is still autumn here, I can only speculate that it’s some nefarious plan from the enemies of creativity to lure me into the belief that Winter Is Coming. But that’s someone else’s work. Not mine.
The weather continues fine…

Day Two – Due to the Expedient Temporal Shift, our day began before the sun cracked the eastern horizon. The youngest member of our expedition has been sick for weeks, on and off with the grippe. He is also in love, and spends hours gazing into his aetheric communicator, waiting for messages. Fortunately, she enjoys using her communicator and the messages are never long in coming.

Words were elusive today, possibly they were frightened by the noise of our party. Possibly they were able to hide while we made some necessary repairs to our gathering devices. We sojourned for hours, sending beaters into thickets of cell phone trees at the edge of civilization and to peer into the boarded-up and broken windows of once proudly, independently owned businesses. At one point, we believed we’d truly found a treasure trove, only to discover the words had nested in a used bookstore, and therefore they’d already been tagged by others.

At dusk, we came upon this magnificent sight: A  thick-legged creature, with bulging muscles and a head shaped like a bell. We were able to get close enough to catch his scent: tobacco and leather and clean male sweat. As you can see, he carried a magical talisman made of tough animal hide,  molded, sewn, and tooled with admirable expertise.

I can only guess at its meaning and its use, but in the absence of further information, and taking into consideration the shape of the knob on the top, I have come to the conclusion it must be some sort of sexual pleasure device.

The sight was breathtaking! The most awe-inspiring moment of the journey so far.

In the end, we were forced to remain vigilant in the darkness, holding our breath for fear of driving off the few words we believed might still be lurking in the cave of our imagination. Eventually, we had some stingy success. It was nearly midnight and I was ready to give up in despair when a whole sparkling flock of words came out to hover in the crisp autumn air like fireflies. We gathered them with gratitude before falling exhausted into our pallets.

Food was again, plentiful. Our supply of curse candy, those individually wrapped offerings which are so tasty and yet so mysteriously unsatisfying, has dwindled enough that the members of our expedition are almost recognizable again–facial features, tempers, and relationships are returning to normal after our too-prolonged exposure to the poisonous treats.

The weather continues fine. We journey fourth again on this, the third day of NaNoWriMo, in hopes of finding words plentiful, friendships forged from steel, and pleasure from the act of creating.

Be well and wise and wordly.