Post by SomethingAboutTheStars on Jan 14, 2012 0:23:31 GMT -5
Thanks for those who read! It really, really means a lot to me. Please comment, I want to know what you think! (: And the links from the other chapters don't work..but I personally don't think it's necessary anymore, considering I have my own sub board and it's a simple manner of clicking the back button...I'm sorry I haven't posted more often, uhm, well, send me a PM if I forget again. (:
Prior chapters:
Prologue: thegreysonchanceforum.com/index.cgi?board=stara&action=display&thread=822
Chapter 1: thegreysonchanceforum.com/index.cgi?board=stara&action=display&thread=823
Chapter 2: thegreysonchanceforum.com/index.cgi?board=stara&action=display&thread=824
Chapter 3: thegreysonchanceforum.com/index.cgi?board=stara&action=display&thread=825
Chapter 4: thegreysonchanceforum.com/index.cgi?board=stara&action=display&thread=826
Chapter 5: thegreysonchanceforum.com/index.cgi?board=stara&action=display&thread=827
Chapter 6: thegreysonchanceforum.com/index.cgi?board=stara&action=display&thread=828
Chapter 7: thegreysonchanceforum.com/index.cgi?board=stara&action=display&thread=829
Chapter 8: thegreysonchanceforum.com/index.cgi?board=stara&action=display&thread=844
Chapter 9: You're already here!
This note’s also cryptic.
Lorence,
The world is stuck on fake happiness nowadays. Social networking, the likes and the mentions making you feel worthy. But that is not needed to feel worthy. What is feeling worthy to you? To be standing in a library and walk to your last name, seeing your book is checked out. Walking to the register and hearing that there’s a waiting list for the book. You can be 11th. She tells you a secret. Check the second computer.
It also comes with a charm that looks like a vinyl record. I attach it to my bracelet. It hangs next to the piano. The note’s not that hard to decode. It’s a lot easier than the second one. So far, that’s been the hardest. Knock on wood. I know I can do this.
There are a lot of libraries in New York, which doesn’t exactly help me figure out which one I need to go too. But I’m thinking, like the other places, this has got to be personal to me. The only thing is, I love almost all libraries, so any could be the library I’m supposed to go to.
I sit at home, pondering this. I stare at the paper on the coffee table that’s only used for tea and hot chocolate. And then I know where I’m going. There’s a small library across the street from the Spotlight. Barney took me over there when his shift was over. We’d wait for John there.
I find myself chuckling as I think of Barney.
He’s such a strange character. And I hate to admit it to him, but I barely remember him. I do remember someone spilling on me that night at the party; I hadn’t just said that to make him let go. When John passed, I had let it all go, refusing to remember what once was.. It’s like you dream in mountains of gold, but you know it’s not going happening, so you forget it as quickly as possible. The other option is to hold every strand, but that holds you back. At least, I think so.
Barney was one of those things I had forgotten. I had two threads I held onto. John and my first book copy.
I get up, shake the cold from my stiff limbs and leave my apartment.
Walking warms me up. It’s nice outside, for winter. The snow is almost blinding if you look directly at it.
I know my way by heart to the Spotlight. It’s one of those things that I couldn’t erase from my mind. Barney sees me from the window and waves. I nod back; my hands are in my pockets to keep from freezing. His eyes follow me until I walk into the library. Inside, I shake invisible snow from my hair and push my hood back. I go and check where my book would be shelved, like the note says. And like it says, it’s not there. I head to the front desk. The librarian is small and frail, she’s old but kind, if I remember correctly.
“Can I help you?” she asks, not looking up. She’s writing on a piece of paper.
“I’m looking for….” I swallow. “Page 11 by Lorence Elliot.”
She tilts her head up now, staring me in the eyes.
“It’s not on the shelf?” her sourness is so shocking I want to leave and I don’t think that she knows I need something from her.
“No, ma’am,” I say.
Her face softens. “You’re Lorence?” she says quietly.
I nod. “Yes, ma’am, that’s me.”
She breaks into a grin. “This book isn’t available; would you like to be put on the waiting list?”
“What number would I be?” I say.
She types on her computer. “Number 11,” she says.
“11?” I ask. I’m smiling inside.
“11,” she confirms. She looks down at me. “It’s been awhile, Lorence. Why haven’t you come before?”
“Delays.” I use the same excuse I used with Barney.
The librarian searches her desk for a while, and then she’s handing me a note. It’s another code, I see right away. “Thank you, ma’am!” I say brightly. I’m not going to hide my happiness inside now. I’m a step closer.
Lorence,
The key to your heart you kept hidden. You never unlocked it yourself, much less having another be the one to open it. You liked to combine random words, letters, numbers. L14G13. You thought your name was prettier as Laurie. And then you’d add a different last name. The street where you grew up.
“It might be a password,” Barney says. He runs his finger across the numbers. “And a user name?”
“Where? And to what?” I ask.
Barney shrugs. “Who knows what John was trying at?”
I sigh; pushing my hair back, face in hands.
“Hey, it’s fine. You’ve gotten this far. Maybe there are clues in the other notes.”
I’m thinking. “Books, spotlight…”
“Keep going. What was the last one?”
“Fake happiness! Social networking! Twitter, Facebook!” I cry.
“Yes!” Barney claps his hands.
“Thank you! Can I use your computer?”
“Of course.” Barney scoots his chair out of the way and offers the store computer to me.
First I log onto Facebook with the note, but that’s not what it’s too. I try Twitter and it’s correct. I squeal when it accepts the password and user name. It was Laurie_ Paradise.
Barney grins at me and gives me a thumbs up. He leans back into his seat. “So, why aren’t you with Stephen?” he asks.
“You stalker,” I say. The internet is slow, so I’m waiting for the page to load. While they load, I rub my two new charms between my fingers. One’s a little book; the other’s a small flame.
“Just wondering.”
“No, I mean, you know what Stephen’s name is.”
“You mentioned it before.”
“Or was it your flirty little co-worker stalking me?” I ask.
Barney is indignant. “Greyson wouldn’t!”
I laugh. “Okay, okay.” The page loads and I squeak. But I’m a little disappointed. There’s nothing in my tweet timeline. And then I see the direct messages. There’s a little glowing blue dot beneath it, signaling I have a new message. No, four new messages. I click them immediately. They’re from username BookJohn_. I smile. It’s got to be from him.
Prior chapters:
Prologue: thegreysonchanceforum.com/index.cgi?board=stara&action=display&thread=822
Chapter 1: thegreysonchanceforum.com/index.cgi?board=stara&action=display&thread=823
Chapter 2: thegreysonchanceforum.com/index.cgi?board=stara&action=display&thread=824
Chapter 3: thegreysonchanceforum.com/index.cgi?board=stara&action=display&thread=825
Chapter 4: thegreysonchanceforum.com/index.cgi?board=stara&action=display&thread=826
Chapter 5: thegreysonchanceforum.com/index.cgi?board=stara&action=display&thread=827
Chapter 6: thegreysonchanceforum.com/index.cgi?board=stara&action=display&thread=828
Chapter 7: thegreysonchanceforum.com/index.cgi?board=stara&action=display&thread=829
Chapter 8: thegreysonchanceforum.com/index.cgi?board=stara&action=display&thread=844
Chapter 9: You're already here!
Chapter 9
Lorence
This note’s also cryptic.
Lorence,
The world is stuck on fake happiness nowadays. Social networking, the likes and the mentions making you feel worthy. But that is not needed to feel worthy. What is feeling worthy to you? To be standing in a library and walk to your last name, seeing your book is checked out. Walking to the register and hearing that there’s a waiting list for the book. You can be 11th. She tells you a secret. Check the second computer.
It also comes with a charm that looks like a vinyl record. I attach it to my bracelet. It hangs next to the piano. The note’s not that hard to decode. It’s a lot easier than the second one. So far, that’s been the hardest. Knock on wood. I know I can do this.
There are a lot of libraries in New York, which doesn’t exactly help me figure out which one I need to go too. But I’m thinking, like the other places, this has got to be personal to me. The only thing is, I love almost all libraries, so any could be the library I’m supposed to go to.
I sit at home, pondering this. I stare at the paper on the coffee table that’s only used for tea and hot chocolate. And then I know where I’m going. There’s a small library across the street from the Spotlight. Barney took me over there when his shift was over. We’d wait for John there.
I find myself chuckling as I think of Barney.
He’s such a strange character. And I hate to admit it to him, but I barely remember him. I do remember someone spilling on me that night at the party; I hadn’t just said that to make him let go. When John passed, I had let it all go, refusing to remember what once was.. It’s like you dream in mountains of gold, but you know it’s not going happening, so you forget it as quickly as possible. The other option is to hold every strand, but that holds you back. At least, I think so.
Barney was one of those things I had forgotten. I had two threads I held onto. John and my first book copy.
I get up, shake the cold from my stiff limbs and leave my apartment.
Walking warms me up. It’s nice outside, for winter. The snow is almost blinding if you look directly at it.
I know my way by heart to the Spotlight. It’s one of those things that I couldn’t erase from my mind. Barney sees me from the window and waves. I nod back; my hands are in my pockets to keep from freezing. His eyes follow me until I walk into the library. Inside, I shake invisible snow from my hair and push my hood back. I go and check where my book would be shelved, like the note says. And like it says, it’s not there. I head to the front desk. The librarian is small and frail, she’s old but kind, if I remember correctly.
“Can I help you?” she asks, not looking up. She’s writing on a piece of paper.
“I’m looking for….” I swallow. “Page 11 by Lorence Elliot.”
She tilts her head up now, staring me in the eyes.
“It’s not on the shelf?” her sourness is so shocking I want to leave and I don’t think that she knows I need something from her.
“No, ma’am,” I say.
Her face softens. “You’re Lorence?” she says quietly.
I nod. “Yes, ma’am, that’s me.”
She breaks into a grin. “This book isn’t available; would you like to be put on the waiting list?”
“What number would I be?” I say.
She types on her computer. “Number 11,” she says.
“11?” I ask. I’m smiling inside.
“11,” she confirms. She looks down at me. “It’s been awhile, Lorence. Why haven’t you come before?”
“Delays.” I use the same excuse I used with Barney.
The librarian searches her desk for a while, and then she’s handing me a note. It’s another code, I see right away. “Thank you, ma’am!” I say brightly. I’m not going to hide my happiness inside now. I’m a step closer.
Lorence,
The key to your heart you kept hidden. You never unlocked it yourself, much less having another be the one to open it. You liked to combine random words, letters, numbers. L14G13. You thought your name was prettier as Laurie. And then you’d add a different last name. The street where you grew up.
“It might be a password,” Barney says. He runs his finger across the numbers. “And a user name?”
“Where? And to what?” I ask.
Barney shrugs. “Who knows what John was trying at?”
I sigh; pushing my hair back, face in hands.
“Hey, it’s fine. You’ve gotten this far. Maybe there are clues in the other notes.”
I’m thinking. “Books, spotlight…”
“Keep going. What was the last one?”
“Fake happiness! Social networking! Twitter, Facebook!” I cry.
“Yes!” Barney claps his hands.
“Thank you! Can I use your computer?”
“Of course.” Barney scoots his chair out of the way and offers the store computer to me.
First I log onto Facebook with the note, but that’s not what it’s too. I try Twitter and it’s correct. I squeal when it accepts the password and user name. It was Laurie_ Paradise.
Barney grins at me and gives me a thumbs up. He leans back into his seat. “So, why aren’t you with Stephen?” he asks.
“You stalker,” I say. The internet is slow, so I’m waiting for the page to load. While they load, I rub my two new charms between my fingers. One’s a little book; the other’s a small flame.
“Just wondering.”
“No, I mean, you know what Stephen’s name is.”
“You mentioned it before.”
“Or was it your flirty little co-worker stalking me?” I ask.
Barney is indignant. “Greyson wouldn’t!”
I laugh. “Okay, okay.” The page loads and I squeak. But I’m a little disappointed. There’s nothing in my tweet timeline. And then I see the direct messages. There’s a little glowing blue dot beneath it, signaling I have a new message. No, four new messages. I click them immediately. They’re from username BookJohn_. I smile. It’s got to be from him.