Kickoff written by Strategos101


far I looked, but close you were before I did.

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There once was an old man who, on one night, while resting in a chair, that was sitting on a porch, thought to himself the most curious of things. And this, that he thought, to put quite simply, was a question that most in their short lives have asked, and that is, what if. What if he just suddenly packed up and left town without so much as a whisper would anyone even miss him. And the answer, that he didn't want to believe or say, was no, which was a response, that in time, convinced him to do exactly that. And so, the next day, with the coming of the moon, the man quickly began to pack up his belongings for the long journey ahead. And as he did, a little bird landed on the ledge of a window, that the old man had looked through on many occasions, and began to sing. And the song this bird sang was so amazingly beautiful that it left the man with a feeling of bittersweet for you see the little bird had been doing this very thing ever since the old man was young and he knew that when he was
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gone he would never hear this song again but despite knowing this the man continued to pack anyway.
And once he was done, he locked up the house, then off he went, knowing in his heart, that no one would notice or even care that he was gone.
But then, one afternoon, as the sun trailed behind him, a message came to the old man, which caught him by surprise, who, as it were, was now, many years later, far away from the house that he had left. And it had been delivered by a small boy who he knew not. And on this note, was a simple request, that being, would you care for a nice cool drink of water? And this is when the man asked the boy who was standing next to him––
“And who gave this note to you son?”
And the boy replied, “The man I work for sir.”
“Oh? And who is this man that you apparently work for? Does he have a name?”
“And yes sir, he does, just like any other I suppose,” the boy said. “And his name is Mel. And he runs the post office.”
“Ah, I see. And so then, was he the one who sent
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this note?”
“Well, yes sir, in a way that's true,” the boy said, “but the note didn't really come from him but more so it came to him.”
“Oh? And who sent it to him? Do you at least know that much?”
“And this sir, I don't, but I'm sure that Mel would. And I can go ask him for you if you'd like. So, would you? And I can go right this very instant too.”
“And so can I youngster,” the old man said as he began to walk towards the same town that the boy had just come from. And the answer that he got from Mel was that the message had came from another town to north and that’s all that he really knew. However, Mel was positive that the post office, that was located there, would know more about this note, so the man, after hearing this, packed up some food and water and went to that town expecting to get an answer to his question but instead of getting one he was told, once again, that the answer he seeks is still farther north. And so, that's where the old man went. And again, he was told to go
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north. And this is what happened time and again, from town to town, always trudging north until one day he ended up in front of a place that was familiar.
A place that looked as run down as he felt. And on the window ledge, of this house, was a foot of dust that had been left undisturbed for many sunrises and sunsets. And next to this ledge, pinned on a wall, was a note that said: to the owner of this place. If you should ever return please come and see me right away. I live at 2020 oak street. Thank you.
And this is what the man did after giving it some thought. And once he had arrived at the address he rapped on the door where upon doing so a lady in her early eighties open it up and asked––
“May I help you.”
“And that I don't know,” the old man said, “but perhaps so. This however depends on if you were the one who left a message by a certain window at a particular house. So, was it you?”
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