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Thursday, September 10th, 2009

Time Event
4:33p
Fox 6: Would Of, Should Of


Dear Mistress Dame Victoria,

I know you must be real busy which is why you haven’t had time to write back. That’s OK, I don’t mind. If its OK with you I’m just going to write to you every so often because if I don’t write to someone, I get lazy about it, and then I don’t write anything at all, and I get a little nutso. Also writing to you tonight is a good way to stall from having to write to Blaine Walker, this guy who gives me the creeps. But even if I wasn’t putting off writing to creepy Vickies, I still would be writing to you tonight because I miss you.

I bet you hate that I just said I miss you, but your not here to yell at me. Which is too bad, because I could of used your yelling. Could of? Could have? I can’t remember when you can write OF and when your supposed to write HAVE. I forgot your writing and speaking tips in Charlotte when I made my getaway. Sorry.

It’s been forty-six nights since I last wrote. I lot has happened. I questioned the Prince so I got my rear broken by the hound. Who is her son. I almost bit off his arm, though, so we’re even. So then you’d think getting my ribcage splintered like a wood crate by that dung-bag would teach me to try and discuss stuff with Josephine (the Prince) but it didn’t. I did it again, later, and did something even worse.

I may have been sipping the red juice for a few years, but I still have the village in me. I don’t know much else. I still act like the world is one big council, one big lodge meeting, and when the north farm is flooded or some people want to expand the lake and some don’t, people put their noggins together and figure out what to do, and people listen to the ones who get stuff done the most, but those people listen to the others, too.

This dictator shit won’t get through my beaten-earth skull. And, yeah, I know what I am, I know what’s in me. I know if I had the power, real power, I’d keep it. Not going to lie about it. Like I told Warrel, all the more reason to keep that dictator stuff in check.

So what did I do wrong? Prince told Elysium she wanted this one Carthian dead, some guy I barely ever saw, and she wanted one of us to kill him, and none of us could warn him or tell anyone. This guy Lucas volunteered to be the killer, but then as soon as Prince left, he told me he wasn’t even going to kill him. Which made no kind of sense to me and pissed me off, because why take the job, then? He said he was trying to give the kid a week to escape, but I think Lucas didn’t know what the hell he was doing anymore than I did when I decided to tell Warrel what was going on.

There are three things in my life I wish I could take back. Two of them, you already know. The last one is telling Warrel like I did. Not only was it a stupid and useless thing to do, because that kid was going to die no matter what, but I judged Warrel all wrong. I thought he would want to at least be told, to not be surprised, so he would know he could trust me, that I was brave and loyal to Carthians and not to some redhead who thinks she’s Shiva, and we would just talk about it like comrades, just wait it out and stick together for a little while until we were both sure we weren’t next on her list.

But no. He went right to her and tattled.

I keep see-sawing on whether he saved my life or almost got my killed. He made it sound like he begged for me, but I’m pretty sure that’s bullshit. Nowadays I think he should of shut the fuck up, and I should of shut the fuck up, and he seems to think so too. We’re cool now, and I’m glad he didn’t go to the Vickies like he was going to do.

But then I think about kneeling in front of Josephine, 100% sure I was going to die, and if he had just kept the secret between us I wouldn’t be there, and I wouldn’t be one of the most hated people in the city like I am, now.

Oh well. I’m still here. Somebody else bit the dust instead of me. I don’t really want to talk about that part, but let’s just say I’m starting to think there may actually be a god or goddess or something. Or maybe you reached out with some magic and saved me. Did you, Mistress? Wouldn’t surprise me a bit.

Since then, a couple new Carthians came to town, so the four of us are pretty tight. We have to be, because the Vickies are pushing us. Warrel I already sort of told you about. Reagan, I like a lot. She seems very sad, and you know I don’t know crap about dealing with sad people, and I usually just make them feel even worse, but I still like being around her more than anyone else, and I’m going to try hard not to make her feel worse. Then again, maybe she’s not even sad, just shy, and I’m talking nonsense.

Harman Scofield is basically our Prefect now. I don’t know what to think about him. Sometimes I’m so glad he’s with us, and sometimes he makes me so pissed I want to sock him in his scowly, sighy mouth. Apparently, he feels even more that way about me because I’m pretty sure I rile his Beast up just from speaking up. He cares more about how people say stuff than what they say, and before we let him be our leader, his number one skill seemed to be complaining about other people’s ideas. But then he talked to the Prince in a way I could never manage, he and Reagan did, and I knew we needed him, especially now.

Still, like Reagan said, I don’t need to be his friend, and that’s the way we both prefer it, I think.

Just recently we had a plan to get some influence in a territory here and Prince came down on us like an anvil on an I-beam. Warrel and Scofield don’t seem to agree on whether we gained much. I don’t know. We can’t just let them keep us down forever. There are four of us, and we’re organized, and we’ll get more members, no doubt about it. Shouldn’t that count for something? Shouldn’t she work with us to keep the city under control? But of course she wants the rack for her son.

I feel funny only talking about myself, but it’s been so long without word from you, I don’t even know what would be going on there to ask anything about Charlotte.

I still hope we can meet and do a lesson whenever you want to. I’ll go there, you don’t have to travel. I’m not afraid of the trip. I’m safer out there than Elysium, that’s for sure. Nobody sentenced me to death on the freeway from Ashville.

Love,

Farm Girl

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