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SweetJoe

wandering in endless night.

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SweetJoe    397

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Joe Kalista awakes from his sleep, sweat drenched and shaking. He looks around his tent and begins to catch his breath. He reaches next to him and begins rummaging through his dufflebag, from it he pulls a small black book and pen. He begins recording the nightmare that woke him. A few moments later he closes the book and replaces it into the bag. Slowly he begins to dress and put his boots on, lacing them quickly and tightly. He reaches for his Winchester and loads it with ammunition before unzipping the tent and stepping outside.

His camp sits in the middle of the woods not far from a small stream. He stands tall shouldering his rifle before stretching. He looks up at the morning sun and smiles. Another day has come and the birds are singing songs to greet it. Slowly he strolls down to the stream, crouching down he splashes water upon his face, its cold and feels good. He washes his mouth out and spits upon the shore before returning to his camp.

He walks to a small stone fireplace he has been using for many moons now. He opens a large cooler that sits beside a wooden bench and removes some eggs from it and a frying pan. He sits them upon the Cooler and walks to where he has been storing wood. There he lifts a few logs and walks back to the fireplace placing them beside it. Inside the stone circle sits a pre-made "log cabin" fire starter. he lights it and when the flames are high enough he adds the logs to it. He then places the frying pan on it and adds some cooking oil that he removes from the cooler. he lets it get hot before cracking the eggs into the pan and cooking them. He scrambles them up and when they are fully cooked and places the pan on a flat stone that sits next to the fireplace. He removes a plate and a fork from the cooler and places the eggs on the plate before sitting down on the bench and eating his breakfast.

He sits and listens to the sounds of the forest and smiles, grateful for being alive.

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SweetJoe    397

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Joe had packed up his camp and walked south for a few hours, Finally he had come to a cliff face. He stood there looking down upon Chenarus. "It's time." he said softly to himself, reassuring himself of his decision. He stood there for a few moments watching the sun rise as the morning birds greeted it with their soft singing.

As he stood there he couldn't help but think of those he had met the last time he came south. He wondered if they still were alive, although he knew the chances of that were likely very low. Were the cannibals still an issue? Were the towns still standing--perhaps thriving? He had to find out, After all there is only so much time one can spend alone before he begins to go mad. The human condition is one that requires us to have human contact, Without it the brain begins to degrade turning more primal. Joe had experienced the madness of being a hermit before and thus has decided to seek out people, even if only for a short while.

Smiling he began his decent into Chenarus. What awaits him is still uncertain but he will face it as he always has, Bravely and without prejudice.

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SweetJoe    397

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It was cold and it was dark this night, but the fires burned hot and warmed the meager campsite. There were quite a few of them now but somehow they seem to be getting by, however these days living like a refugee is a kin to living like a king. Although they were safe at this camp still the group seemed to whisper and the only sound to break the stillness was a loud crackle from the fire. The faces and attitudes seemed more dissolute each day and although food is now plentiful without having a purpose the moral compass of the occupants of the camp could sway to being uncaring for outsiders.

Joe looked around at those around them and saw they needed purpose. He proposed they all stay together communally until everyone gets settled. He really hadn't thought any further than that. It just seemed logical that If he had no issues surviving then they should live as he does. Whats their next move? Do they do anything in their power to better themselves or do we take what extra they have and go out of their way to help those who are in need? Only time can tell.


[align=justify]Joe sat in the grass with his back against a large stone that sat in the center of the clearing. His pack sat closely beside him and not to far ahead of him sat his camp. They were a quiet bunch but productive to say the least. He reached into his bag and removed a paper and pen and rested them on his lap. He reached again into the bag and removed a small tin container and blue chemlight. He placed the tin on the book and proceeded to break the chemlight and placing it through a loop on his shoulder. Joe then opened the container and removed a joint from it placing it into his mouth, he then lit it with a lighter from his pocket. He tossed the tin back in his bag and then lifted the book. Taking the pen in hand he began to write.

Life is a funny thing, and I will never know where the road will take me. I've always gotten by on my words and charm, and its gotten me pretty far. A few weeks ago I was all alone--going crazy. Now, I know quite a few folks and some of them even decided to make camp with me. I am mighty grateful for the company as I don't think I would of made it much longer by myself.

I met a kid at that mountain named Toby. Young stoner, I don't think he is dangerous and hes been a lot of fun. However he asks odd questions which lead me to two conclusions. 1. he is sizing me up for something. or 2. He is trying to figure out if ill kill him. either way I'll just keep my guard up enough not to get my throat slit. Seems like a good kid other than that. (a little fucking crazy though.)

Met a little lady and her Somalian friend. They come from a bad group of people who do very bad things. The stories she tells me are unbelievable. Seemed like one of them in that group took a fancy to her and was mighty abusive. He took two drags of my joint and ran around like a child though, after that i noticed she stopped traveling with him. Her and the Somalian were all alone so I said "I got a place" and here they are.

The Somalian--Kabass is a quiet and direct person. He is a killer of men and wont hesitate if given a reason. However I think he has good intentions at heart with his actions and don't think he is an issue. a bit of the warriors spirit.

The Girl-- Josie. Blonde, Blue eyes, bad attitude. wont even write who she reminds me of. She is a sorrowful wandering soul. The stories she told me really could make you tear up---its a reminder of the madness in the world today. You have to be a very strong person to have endured so much and still stand tall. Still she should smile more.

I've met a lot more people as well. I even found Hank. Good Ol' Texan. I have his cooking pot, which reminds me that I need to return it to him as soon as possible. In the meanwhile I need to keep looking for supplies to store the increased number of (the ink in the pen seemingly runs out)

Joe shakes the pen a few times and tries to force some ink out but to no avail. he places both the empty pen and the book back into his pack and then leans back against the stone. He unholsters his Revolver and lays it on the ground beside him. He rests his hand on it and closes his eyes.

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