Amen, the thunderbolt in the dark void....

Originally Posted by Cacophony

I'm in the forest, with several of my friends. Someone is asking me for tips on journalism because they're in a journalism class. I took out a pen and paper and started writing in really fancy cursive and making all the pointers to myself, completely ignoring the person who had asked me a question.

We had to go to a meeting. The meeting was full of all the anarchist kids in this town and they took turns speaking at a raised table at the far end of the long rows of seats that were completely filled.

One of the blackbird raum kids asked for a pen and then said my name. I rummaged through my bag and found my favorite pen. I was really reluctant to give it away, however decided to try to throw it to him. I couldn't tell if we were inside or outside, but when I tried to throw the pen it hit an invisible ceiling and bounced to the floor and all the pieces fell apart. I rushed to put them back together. As I approached the giant table, everything got really quiet and I could feel hundreds of eyes upon me.

At the end of the meeting I got my pen back.

I remember trying to hide in my garage, pretending to be a plastic bag. It worked, a second time it didn't. I forget who I was hiding from.

Me and two of my best friends decided to go camping. It was really normal and uneventful.