[ARCHIVE] "My Veiw of the Confusion- a First Hand Acount of Possable History

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This topic contains 3 replies, has 2 voices, and was last updated by Cu Dearg 1 year, 1 month ago.

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    Cu Dearg

    [Originally Posted Monday, January 25, 2010 @ 11:15 AM]

    this is the View of a young history Enthusiast stuck in what he sees as history in the making. It is quite likely to be incomplete and inaccurate in the over all view of the story. This is the story as Lee sees it.

    Lee’s family has been involved in historical reenactment as long as he can remember. He has participated in Renaissance Faires, mountain man Rendezvous, Society for Creative Anachronism, and most recently Civil War Reenactments and Living History Events as a private in the Texas Volunteer Cavalry. He is currently residing in the middle of B.F.E. with a group of other unlucky S.O.B.s.


    Cu Dearg

    [Originally Posted Monday, January 25, 2010 @ 08:35 PM]

    Where should I begin. I guess it all started with the flash of light like it did for most others we have talked too. Only we were at thirty something thousand god damned feet.
    That’s right folks, we were in a fucking plane when it happened.

    I don’t remember much about the crash, or getting out of the plane after wards. I think I was trying to kiss my ass goodbye. Those of us that lived were a pretty mixed lot. There was me, Mac, T.J., Steve, Fil, Kris, Kat, and Lucky that made it, and I’ll give you my first impression of them as I go.

    Mac had been sitting across the aisle from me during the flight, and he just looked hard. I mean he looked like someone that you wanted on your side if it came to fighting. Not just that he was big, which he was, but the way he carried himself just screamed “don’t fuck with me or I’ll beat you so bad your grandkids will have concussions”. He was nice enough during the flight, but he looked like he was expecting someone to try to jump him the entire time.

    I had seen Steve get on the plane with his parents. He looked like a jock or some thing similar. Track, or maybe baseball would be my guess. He looked to be a few years younger than my eighteen, and right after the crash seemed pretty collected considering he had just seen his mom and dad die for fucks sake.

    The first thing I remember after I got off the plane was T.J. setting there lighting a cigarette. If you have ever been to a Rodeo and seen one of those crazy bastards that think it’s a good Idea to try to ride a ton of pissed off T-bone Steak, you know exactly what I was looking at then. He barely looked frazzled by the whole god damn thing, but hell, he probably thought it was fun.

    Kris was asking if anyone was hurt, and I sure thought about saying yes but I could see she was all business at that point. She looked to be about my age and way out of my league if you know what I mean. She was the one that seemed to be bringing us back to reality then, and was probably the most collected of all of us.

    Kat, on the other hand, was lost. She was in shock or something. A few years older than her sister, and about as good looking, she was dressed for business and just sat there holding onto her briefcase.

    When Lucky came off the plane he moved like a fighter. I’ve been around enough of them at Ren Faires and S.C..A. events that I could see it in the way he moved. There was the same shocked and confused look in him as there was in the rest of us, but none of the clumsiness.

    Fil was just standing there, muttering in Spanish.I think he was saying Hail Marys but couldn’t hear well enough to tell. A well dressed Latino in his mid twenties, he looked like he had fought his way up from nothing to something, and intended to get even further.

    Then there was me, an eighteen year old history buff and Civil War Reenactor on my way home to start College in Wichita Falls.

    And all I could think was”What a fucked up way to start a fucking day.”


    Cu Dearg

    [Originally Posted Thursday, January 28, 2010 @ 08:30 PM]

    I don’t remember every thing that’s happened the last day or two, so I’ll write down what I do remember. I remember most of the flight, then the flash and a sharp pain in my head. The next thing I remember is T.J. lighting a cigarette and my mouth tasting like puke. I remember the Flight Attendant with a tree sticking out of her fucking chest, and I remember Kris and Steve being covered in blood, but I don’t think much of it was theirs. Hell, I think we were all covered in blood when we first got out of the mess, but the only ones that I can really remember with blood on them are Kris and Steve. I think T.J. was carrying his saddle for a bit, but I remember him riding a horse most of the time. I remember that Kat was pretty out of it, worse than me at least, and that Kris was pretty much guiding her every move. And I remember walking, in one fucking hundred fucking degrees and ninety fucking eight fucking percent humidity. At least I had my kepi to keep the sun off my head.
    We got to town and sort of split up I guess,, because I remember that it was just me, Mac, and Kris in the grocery store, but that T.J., Lucky, and Fil were at the hardware store with us, and somehow, somewhere we got a wagon and more horses. I remember deciding to sleep out in the football field with the horses sounded like a better idea than an overcrowded gym with no A.C. I also remember thinking how strange it was, all the cars just dying, all the lights, hell anything electrical, not working. And I remember bits and pieces of conversations that I can’t place. Things like Kat Laughing at T.J. for carrying his saddle. Or Fil muttering in Spanish. And Steve saying that twelve miles was about an hour run.

    All in all, I don’t really remember shit about yesterday.

    When we woke up this morning, the town was cooking breakfast for us and the other unlucky bastards stuck there. Kat said something about all the clocks being stopped at 8:05, but I checked my old windup watch that Dad gave me and it was working just fine.

    After we ate we started out again for I don’t know where. There was some talk about finding a place to stay until everything was back to normal and believe me I was all for it. We went down a few side roads and on the third or fourth one we found an old house that looked abandoned. The place was locked up, and Kris couldn’t pick the lock, so I wandered around back and busted out a window. Not many of these folks have ever tried to open an old wood frame window that’s been closed for who fucking knows how long in the heat and humidity the way they started yelling at me, but it got us inside, and a whole lot faster than trying to open one would have. T.J. put most of the horses out to pasture and then him and Fil rode off into town. The rest of us started unloading the wagon. After a few trips I came inside with an armload of canned food and Kris had taken off her shirt. She was still wearing one of those sports bra things but DAMN, if she wanted our attention she sure had it. The only one who seemed bothered by it was Mac. And even then he was nice about it, just asked her to put her shirt back on and said it had been a few years since he had seen something “of that quality, or any quality for that matter.”

    Kris started taking blankets and medicine upstairs then, with Steve helping, sort of. I was hungry so I started up a camp stove and cooked some beans in the can. I think that kind of shocked Kat, the way she acted.

    About then T.J. and Fil got back with a new wagon, supplies, and most importantly news. Whatever it is that’s going on, its going on at least sixty miles around. And its affecting more than we thought. Guns don’t work. T.J. proved that with a .45 that Mac had been carrying. I thought he was going to blow his fucking head off when he pulled the trigger on that thing. Nothing happened. Nothing. Just a dent in the primer. No boom, no nothing. Just like the cars, and electricity, they just stopped working.

    So we’re stuck here in western Missouri with five horses, five bows, and a shitload of food that I still don’t think will be enough. Eight people that, for the most part, never met before the fucking plane they were on fell out of the sky. Something Mac said when Kris took of her shirt got me thinking. I can only think of two places in this day and age where a man can go for years without seeing a woman. I’m going to keep this quiet unless he does something that makes me need to tell everyone what I think. Every one deserves a chance any to be judged for who they are not what they are, But Mac doesn’t seem like a monk to me


    Cu Dearg

    [Originally Posted Monday, August 16, 2010 @ 05:13 PM]

    been a busy few weeks out here. We have been working over at Bill and Martha’s with their harvest. they are a older couple down the road a bit with one hundred acre’s planted and no machinery, so they offered us a share in exchange for help. Kris says that Kat would be useless there so she has been on guard duty at our place. Not that I for one think that she will be able to guard against anything bigger than a raccoon, but she is getting the stuff organized and generally trying to be useful.
    Our other neighbor, Rick, now he is an interesting one. He probably thinks that the no power thing (and everything else in the world) is all the fault of lawyers and Politicians. He shows up at our place at around dawn every day ready to go help out with Bill and Martha, then he leaves there around noon take care of his “lines”. He always has at least three dogs with him, but but I know there are at least eight. Those dogs are a mix matched pack if I’ve ever seen one, but he wont hear a bad thing about them, saying that”I didn’t pick them fer purdy, I picked them b’cause they’re good.” they seem to stick close to his place for the most part, but I’ve seen them up by ours in the evening a few times.

    Every since the Town decided to “extend it’s town limits” I’ve taken to carrying the Sabre constantly, and the rest of the guys have started carrying some thing. most of them have Machetes, but Kris has her axe and Lucky has a sword, or his stick. Now you might not think that a stick would be all good of a weapon, but I get the feeling that if he has to use it he will prove you wrong. He’s some sort of Kung Fu-Karate-Jedi Master Blackbelt or something and spends at least an hour or two practicing every night. Not that he is the only one, Kris works out daily, I spend time with sabre drill and the bow, and Steve is practicing with the bow also

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