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Love and War - 02

2 Aug 1914
Paris, France

Morning glorious morning, day different from every previous day. People were making up to the realization that this day would be different. There was a war on, those most people did not expect it to be very long. There was buzzing, dim growling feeling, in every nook and cranny, in the kitchen, and in the garages, and everything else that you can think of, people buzzing about it. Until there was clamoring noise. This was not the buzzing of later generation, where each family was left to their own devices, no this was upstairs downstairs, and clamoring of many clans. It was a noise that many people would not understand, because they had grown up in little boxes and all were just the same. Instead, there was the chief family, and many subsidiary families, clinging on them, attached by hook or by crook to the chief.

Everyone was decidedly shoddy, in slightly different ways. You have to know, the windows were 14 feet deep on this house, the same way all of the others were in this section of town. They were run down, and badly shoddy for a half of a mile. It had been 1740 or so, give or take 15, when last it was repainted. Back then it was very posh, with merchants and other déclassé but interesting people in the trade class, but gradually they were on the cusp of nothing. This was the city, not in the countryside, it was a very different thing. It was learned three story building, not of red brick, but of cream gray which is not like brick, but of mortar and plaster, the kind that is a shining white that speaks of a gleaming star.

One of these families, in the 5th arroundisse, was getting up. It was a mother, father who was in Africa, two adorable children - a boy and a girl, who were both the same age – une pettite enfante, that is a baby girl, and a corona of an aunt, who was related to an uncle who had recently died, and who was completely nasty vicious sort of person, who we will get to later. So naturally the mother, and aunt, were full talking away, and not minding who was saying what, they were just talking to themselves, and were minding what the other person was saying. Their were also three people who were not related to in any way, an older men who was outside doing things such as lumber, and other assorted chores, of an outside nature. Then there was little age woman, who is between, and someone younger woman who did the dishes, and baked scrumptious cakes. The youngish girl, was in and out, catching only a glimpse before going back to the background, she caught only every second or third phrase, though she was interested in the conversation, though she did not understand half of it.

In reality, they were poor, and huddled together, but they had means to survive. Remember, most people in the present day lived on income, but people in the past were not people who had income, but people who had income coming and going out, not people who had money or did not. And all those people who did not, obviously these people were on first class, not the second class, there who people who have a grasp which will pay money to live, and there were people who did not have money, not a scrap which is different from not having money but do have a scrap of income left. If you do not believe there is such a difference, it's because you haven't been part of the line which doesn't have income, but can fake it now and again. But the rules were different.

As such most of the food when to young ones bellies, and almost none went to the older people. Not to put too much of a point of things, they were as thin as a rail. Boning was correct word for them, but for all of that, there was a gentility among, the were wasting away, but slowly. The aunt was with away the fastest, she would not hear for very long, a few years at most. Even the children were not very well off, but better than to be expected. Realize there was an abundance of most food from top to bottom, there were however patches of famine which lingered over the land. This family, for example, should really have been down the ladder, and if had been less of a tenacious , every single one of them, the would have been been. But they were tenacious, and were he can have an existence, without a father, so that the children would be well.

For all but the youngest, there was something about them that said they were going to make it, no matter what the cost was. On adults it would be true grit, but on children it is different, kind of fairy tale life expression, that could only be described in other terms. Ogres and other things surrounded them. They could not tell the adults, they could only tell three or four friends which they shared the same worldview, kind of play seriousness that can only described by someone who has shared the experience. It was a new kind of play, every one who will not understand. It was not pleasant, but an eerie dark experience. People who were changed, in some way, would not talk about it, and people who did not recognize it would think that it is poppycock. They wouldn't allow it to take hold of them, and think are different, and remember nothing in the past. In other words, they do not recognize the change, because it happened before their time. And they do not want to question difference. And moreover, they do not recognize the change has occurred differently, most decidedly not in other people. They want to rub out the differences, even though they clearly exist. For a boy and girl, not only were the changes existing for them, they realized that changes were not there for all of the rest of adults, with possible exception of the grandfather, whose presence they did not know of.

They only talked about it with their friends, and not often with many of those. The only talked about it in abstract, and in cues that only people who had been through would know. Thus while the war was the top most attention for other people, for them it was different. They knew about what would happen as being an abstract, which was different, though a new enough of what they spoke. Their parents saw nothing amiss, and wrote it off to things that were inner mind, rather than things being outer the mind. That he is the difference between outer and inner living people.

Inner living people do not want to share, though some outer living people grasp, in their own way, what is going on. But they think that inner living people live only in the present, which is not true, they know that this magic, if match is the correct word, lives in between these moments, and does not touch the world, the outer living world. So they have a secret, which the outer living people think will be destroyed. It won't be, because it's different in kind, and shape. And they were not telling anyone, and the few who knew couldn't convince many that there was a difference, which is way the few who knew wanted. In other words the inner living people just had to make it so outer living people who knew something was gang up on. Since most people did not know there was anything wrong, just that they were different, is would take them along themselves known what exactly was the difference.

Think of it as the way homosexuals think about themselves, they knew they were different, but it is only after great distance, and only then in a tangential way, that they know something that other people cannot see, and indeed something that they do not want to know. Us there are a few people who flaunt it, but most not, and most people only know the surface. Really, it's hidden, even to themselves. But it is to those people who are outer living, and aware of it, which is, a very tiny fraction of those people who are outer living and not aware of it, it buzzes, and annoys them, even if they do not know why. But I do, and you should, though you won't, in all probability.

But people do not know this, the characters in the novel. This, remember isn't 1914, it in my time is 2014, and the characters won't know anything of premise day, though in one case that I will get to, they have knowledge of a knowledge present day, a rather he will have knowledge, which is different from our own. We are the present day, and getting closer to careening, even more so as we speak of it, ahead of them. And getting more so with every second. Every second more time passes between World War I, and this are present time because, your time of reading this, is not my time of writing this. And it's important, because the characters and I are not in the same timeframe either. But that's another tale which we have spoken of all ready, and I won't speak of it in this little chapter.

Let us call the boy F, and the girl J, for those are not are not the adult names that people call them by, the childless names they call each other. They found them in a book that they had read. It wasn't a very good name, to truth be told, but they had warmed up to it, in every part was different after they had touched it. Until in their hands, it was rye and intense, searches only two people who have lived a book can make it so. So different was it, that adults plotted to be their own handiwork, but they knew better. What is more important, to small puppet presided over the three of them, and told them what to say, as if he were a real character, and maybe he was. What was his name? Call him Peternotes, and you won't be far wrong, is not exactly right, but nothing is.

“I want you to tell me a story, if you would. And make it one about the Prince and Princess. But it has to be a new story, nothing old, and I will be to if it is, even just a little bit.” he was very grave as the said this, and you very much mended. J stood and applauded, she also wanted here a story, and very desperately wanted to be about Prince and Princess. Because she knew that the Prince and Princess were half attached to this world, and have way attached to another world. So she knew that this would begin a story that would spin out in into darkness.

“Well” said Peternotes, “that will that will have two main it's fresh and new, or its a small deal from the past.”

“Oh, it will have to be new, because when parents an weekend that there is nothing going on with this world, though we all know that not to be true, and we will have two pretend that nothing is wrong. We would have to pretend that nothing is amiss, even though it is a amiss.” J said this matter-of-factly, with most wretchedly dry sense of humor, that people could not understand unless they were small.

“More than fresh, it has to be new. Because this is a new moment, with you ideas, is it possible to layout the new framework, and new ideas? After all, dead implies a lot of things, so does undead. We have to have something extraordinary, which is neither undead, nor the dead. It has to be scary, but scary in a different way. If you know what I mean.”

“All I know what you mean. We have two embark on something completely different, in every respect, from the way glistens, to every little detail of its life from before, to what is going on right now, the way it grips its flesh, not death, nor in fact life, but something in between which will be described as it goes.” With this not he spoke, are puppet with no strings attached. The was haunted in his own way, thoroughly real to his own to characters, but nothing more than a puppet to anyone else.
And they believed in him, absolutely, with out a shred of doubt in their minds. They imagined what they were missing, and were going to find a way to make it so.

So they sat waiting for the tale, and the puppet laid out a number of things, almost as if they were ground rules, though he did not say anything. It was contact, not verbal that he spoke with, but it was very real none the less. Than he drew cards, and arrange them just so, as if to say that these cards were not important, only in the abstract. They were the gateway to lands unknown and on reachable to the real world.

So Peternotes began, after clearing his throat, “In the beginning, and there was a beginning...” So he began at the beginning, or rather what they knew of the beginning, with strands both forwards and backwards which were, as yet, unresolved. He was not a good story teller, and both the little boy, and more importantly, the little girl, were confused.

Then the mama and the aunt came up stairs, and began to dress them. And it would be one more day before they had a chance to play on their own terms, and in their home way.

At that point the mama and the aunt also retired to bed, leaving only two beings awake. One was Peternotes, and the other one had no given name, but it could be called “Cat” with out any loss of detail, because it did not call itself anything, in Peternotes never called it anything but “Cat”, which was good enough for both of them. Right now Cat was winding his way up and down the third stair, which was slightly broken, and that is what Cat liked, all of the other stairs were for, at least to firm for its liking. And Peternotes just pet it, not talking to anyone, but murmuring to himself about how odd it would be if the two of them were caught. It didn't matter to the Cat, obviously, but it did matter to Peternotes. Actually, it mattered like a lot, but there was no one to explain it to who would listen. 

Because obviously, he was not going to introduce himself to mama, or the aunt – who would not believe in him anyway. They were proper people and would not admit, let alone believe themselves, in something as comical as Peternotes.

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