The Story.

Chapter 1: The Writer

Elderwick town, America
3rd September 2005
1030 hours

It was a particularly cold autmn morning when I awoke from a very deep sleep. My name is Jacob Gray and this would be the third time I have awoken from a deep sleep on a chair at my writing desk. As you may presume, I am indeed a writer. If you live in Elderwick, you'd know me. My back felt sore and this is one of the things that have an effect on my work in the day. I once considered leaving the habit of working at night, but then I came to the conclusion that there is no problem with it. But it does come at a price. A sore back every morning. I got up and stretched. After a few moments of stretching, my back pain receeded. I proceeded to the next part of my morning routine, which is to take my bath and get dressed. No need for details on that, of course. So now we move on to the next part of my routine. Breakfast. I took out a left over slice of pizza from the refridgerator and a can of soda and went upstairs. I went back to my writing desk and sorted out today's mail. "Hate mail, hate mail, hate mail, and oh, what a surprise, more hate mail." I said, tossing the envelopes out an open window. I always receive mail from enemies. I call those letters, 'hate mail'. With those out of my way, I began my work