Welcome to the Kent Chronicles

The Kent Chronicles is a fantasy city based on the city of Edmonton. The people you hear from here are in no way connected with reality. If its the case, it's coincidence. Some places are linked, but they are renamed and "relocated" to preserve the identity of the building. The events and people are purely fictional unless its a world event that they might comment about. (c) June 2013 Michelle Earl All rights Reserved

About Kent Chronicles

My name is Michelle, and I have known of Kent for about a year now. Kent is a magical place which incorporates elements of fantasy into our everyday world. Some people would call it an "Urban Fantasy", and that's ok. You will see the diary of various people in Kent. I have tried in various ways to start this story, and there are so many ways to "chronicle" this city, that I thought the best way to do so was to do it through people's diaries. I have written some short stories, but this is the best. Please feel free to interact with the characters. For now, you will meet Mary Anne DeRoss, Greg Rael, and Ina Lyn. The date is April 1, 2013. I have tried to start the chronicle at "today's date" only for today's date to slip away. This is when I started it, so we continue on. Chronicle entries will come once a month or sooner if they are ready.


Michelle Earl

Thursday, July 4, 2013

Where am I? - Blogger: Mary Anne DeRoss

Date:  April 1, 2013
Time:  10:15am
Dear Diary,

I left the bus, turning right to await my suitcases.  The driver stepped lightly down the stairs, landing at my side.  I turned to him, "Sir, where are the others?  I was supposed to get off at Edmonton, with them, but there are only five of us here."

He inhaled sharply, "Let me see your ticket."

I showed it to him, and he examined it, "No, it's correct.  It says..."

"Excuse me dear." Mrs. Komax laid her hand on my shoulder, "I don't mean to interrupt you, but my daughter will be waiting outside, and she gets very impatient when I'm not there on time.  Could you get my bag please driver?"

"Of course." He said.  It was his turn to place his hand on my shoulder.  It was large, yet muscular.  "Wait here."

I nodded as I watched him unlock the door and extricate our bags.  He rolled mine over to me.  The others thanked him and said their goodbyes.  Upon closing and locking the bus door, he turned back to me and held out his hand, "Now that that's done, let's see your ticket."

I gave it to him, and watched as he looked it over, and subsequently ran his eye over me.  "No, it says Kent Alberta, not Edmonton Alberta."

"I've never heard of Kent!  Where am I really?"

"You're in Kent." He said calmly.

I let my backpack fall to the ground, "What am I going to do?  How do I get back?"

"Are you certain you want to get back?" The driver queried.

"What?" I began to feel like I was in the twilight zone, like something was out of phase.  My attention was averted by a sign which caught my eye, for some reason.  I glanced at it.  It was an advertisement for Coke.  A person was lounging on the beach and drinking the beverage, but she moved!  As she drank, the bottle was emptied! I gasped, "She moved!"

The driver nodded, "Yes, she's supposed to.  She gets thirsty every so often."

I scoffed, "Pictures aren't supposed to move!"

"Are we going to stand here talking about the picture or get you somewhere safe?  I have a family to get home to.  You are in Kent, a magical place.  Look, I will get you to the restaurant.  One of the waitresses will be able to help you.  Her name is Kathy." His voice softened as he took hold of the handles of my suitcases, "Look, I know you've been through a lot, and I'm willing to help.  You need some food, and someone who can help you more than I can.  I would like to introduce you to someone who works here, and she can explain what's going on."

"Ok." I blew out my cheeks and followed him through the doors and into the main bus station.  He seemed to know more about me than I told him.  My heart beat faster as I followed him. 

-------
I've noticed that I've been able to mark down the dialog clearly again.  What gives?

No comments:

Post a Comment