Young Writers Society

"I suppose we will. It'd help if we had some money flowing into the economy, of course."

"Yeah." Esmond nodded, glancing up as the barkeeper came over for his order. "Modelo, please." Then glanced back at Marie. "It's a vicious cycle -- less money so fewer products so less money."

She gave him a tight smile. "Right."

"Anyhow." He was starting to feel unwelcome in this conversation. And he wasn't particularly interested in this turning to her calling him a greedy bastard or whatever it was that she thought of him that motivated that comment. "Good to see you around."

"You as well," she said, taking a long drink. "Don't be a stranger."

"Yep. You too." He nodded to her and walked back to the bar, sitting down as the barkeeper popped the top off a Modelo and slid it across to him. "Thanks... I don't know why I grabbed this I know what I want. A dozen honey barbecue wings and a side order of bacon cheese fries, please."

"Ranch?"

"You know it." Esmond tossed the menu back in the rack. "Thanks, Bobby."

Marie rolled her eyes and went back to her beer.

Nicholas sipped at his new beer, watching the ads flick by on the TV screen above the bar.

(Is this pre or post 9/11? I don't want to involve it in any way but I was just curious)

(Absolutely no preference whatsoever ^^ what are you feeling?
Wait shit are you younger than 9/11?)

Esmond pulled out his Blackberry and flicked through the few texts he'd gotten from his employees, answering the ones that seemed relevant and ignoring the ones that didn't. He was a businessman -- and businessmen didn't waste precious time and money on stupidity. Even if they happened to employ said stupidity. Charlie could wait until later.

(I don't have any direction for this at this point)

(Yep
2003 baybeee)

(And yeah me either. Wanna switch over to Biryn or Bean? Maybe Bean could see something going on on his property? She'll be romping after school)

(That's insane to me xD I mean I was very young -- like 6 I think -- and don't really remember much pre-9/11 but I definitely remember the fallout from all of it. My brain just doesn't comprehend grown-ass adults whose birthday starts with a 20-something xD)

(And sure! That sounds fun ^^ his property being Esmond? Or Biryn?)

(It is really weird to talk to people who remember; my parents both remember, my aunt remembers. But all I have to compare to that is where I was during covid. But that wasn't nearly as immediately traumatic.
That being said, the schools made sure we had to see the videos of the attack ever single year up to like 9th grade
So I knew how bad it was from a very young age. They were very graphic videos)

(Biryn, sorry! Or Esmond.)

(oh yikes, that's awful >.> I didn't realize they were still showing footage.
Well, I will say that the first year or two especially people went absolutely wild with patriotism in rural Appalachia. Like, American flags and the Pledge of Allegiance freaking everywhere. So this needs to be pre-9/11 or like... 2003 or something xD)

(And I'm down for that! Would you like to start that?)

(Let's say it's 2000 then.
Golly, this century had a very bad start...)

(Sure!)

"I swear I left it around here somewhere!"
"You could have left it in the log behind Irma Henderson's yard," Bean pointed out. Hunter was rooting around a fallen tree on the eastern side of town. "It looks real similar to this one."
"No." Hunter shook his head, and bark fell onto his dark hair. "I promise I left it here."
Bean huffed and sat down on the ground. Her eight year old brother Montgomery was already seated, picking at a loose thread on his sock. He had his blanket with him as always; it had been within since birth and wasn't leaving his side any time soon.
"Well, you'd best find it fast is all I'm saying," she muttered. "We aren't supposed to be on this property. Remember?"
"'Trespassers will be prosecuted,'" Hunter recited with a roll of his eyes. "You can't prosecute kids."
"Can, too." Bean took a thermos out of her backpack and passed it to Monty. "Or their parents, anyway."

(and then it just kept getting worse xD
y2k
9/11
massive recession
zika
ebola
trump
putin
kim jong un
'rona
multiple wars/nuke threats
heading into another recession)

Biryn had the perimeter of his property well-monitored. He had... well, 'fans' as he liked to call them. Most people in this shithole knew that he owned this town, but some were pissy about that fact. Sure. Fine. Whatever.

But it only took a hole being cut in his fence once to let his prized stallion out of his field for him to install security cameras at easy-access points around his thirty-acre estate.

And what would you know but one sensed motion?

And he sensed trouble when his beeper went off.

So he grabbed his pistol and shoved it in his belt, hoping he wouldn't need to pull it on anyone, then started outside to his Gator to go check it out.

(The early years of a century always suck ass, it seems)

"Yeah, well, it's fine. We'll be in and out." He reached further up under the log, straining. "....I think I--yes! See, I told you!" Bean leaned forward as Hunter pulled out a mason jar filled with grass and twigs.
"Is it really alive in there?" Monty asked, scooting up beside Bean.
"Yup." Hunter squinted into the jar.
"You're crazy for keeping this." Bean wrinkled her nose; she could see it moving around inside the jar. Hunter had captured a brown recluse spider two days ago and Bean had finally agreed to let him show her. Generally she avoided spiders, but Hunter was obsessed with them.