Dear Reader...

This will be where we're posting the IC for Dear Reader... since a few folks in our little gang have told me that they don't like the way the RP tab sets out the posting. So, to start us off I'll repost the first letter. From this point on, I don't think I'll be posting the letters here - though if you do want that to happen, tell me in the OOC. Or send a PM. Or whine about it to me in the chat, it all works. We'll work out a posting order from whoever posts first and then when it comes to you all posting together, we'll see if we need to work out something else. Posting starts now, babies. Enjoy yourselves.

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It's been a long day - you've either been at work, doing some grocery shopping or simply waiting out a dreary day off - and you find a plain envelope with your name and address printed on the front in a simple cursive written in dark red ink sitting inside your letterbox...



Of course, you assume that this is just a ridiculous prank. No one you know would ever send something so strange. Did the writer of this note really presume to know what number you'd think of out of so many possibilities? You decide to test this amusing prankster's so-called 'knowledge' - the number that popped into your head? One. Nine. Eight.

You open the smaller envelope that had been tucked in with the first letter and read on...

One ... two ... three ... four ... five ... no, wait. I’ve already counted that one. One ... two... fuck it.

There were better ways to pass the time in London Euston station than counting the little misshapen speckles on the white flooring, but that just about summed up what Daniel Eldred was doing. Sat upon his wheely-suitcase with a ‘grab bag’ of walkers salt and vinegar crisps, the teenager stared blankly at the ground as commuters and tourists blurred past him. A pair of look-at-me-I-own-an-iPod headphones filled his ears with the acoustics of ‘Poison Prince’ by Amy Macdonald, the thin white wire trailing erratically back to his actually-it’s-an-iPhone.

Having grown tired of his little counting pastime, Daniel lifted his eyes wearily to the bright orange text of the departure boards. He stared balefully at the large central section where the time ‘6:43’ was displayed in what seemed like mockingly large font. There was no decent reason for him to be awake at this hour during the summer, let alone travelling.

But travelling he was. A short distance to the right of the time was the listing of the train he was to catch. ‘6:57, Birmingham New St’. Yup – not only was he travelling before seven AM, he was going to bloody Birmingham. Going to Birmingham was depressing on the best of days.

“So remind me again why we’re here, mum?”

Daniel brushed a stray strand of dark brown hair out of the way of his glasses to give his mother a half-hearted stare.

“I explained this to you already.” Amanda Eldred’s tone in her reply was curt – more so than was normal for her to address her son with. Everything about her posture made it clear, however, that she was far from happy with this trip herself. It was easy enough to tell just by looking at her that she was as tense as a porcupine in a balloon factory. Her eyes rested on the clock with nothing short of obsessive focus.

Sighing, Daniel looked away again. His phone buzzed in his hand, and he absent-mindedly flicked his thumb to check the notification that had just popped up. One of his friends had commented on his status – ‘Awake and going to Birmingham. FML.’ – from where they were on Holiday in Australia. ‘Jane Robertson commented on your status: “haha, suckr! enjoyin afternoon sun by hotel pool. woke up @ 11! Y r u goin to Bham?”

Rolling his eyes, Daniel put his phone away. He couldn’t be bothered explaining the weird reason his mum had informed him a few days ago that they were going to Birmingham. It was far too surreal...

---

Last week ...
Amanda Eldred rummaged in her handbag for her front door key, shifting the weight of her laptop bag slightly to allow her to tug it out. She slid it into the lock, and after a few moments of wiggling it around – she really needed to get that lock replaced – the door swung open on the small semi-detached house. Hefting her bags inside, she closed the door and dumped them at the bottom of the stairs momentarily. “I’m home!” she called up the stairs.

A few moments passed before a reply came down from Daniel, brief and slightly absent-sounding. “Heya.”

After slipping her shoes off and carrying the bags through to the living room, Mandy walked back through to the hallway to pick up the mail off of the old, stale doormat. A few adverts, a bank statement and a letter. Walking through to the kitchen and flicking the kettle on, she tossed the adverts into the recycling and thumbed through the bank statement. She raised her eyebrow as she noticed her account had been charged for seventy pounds from Hollister. She’d have to talk to Daniel about that, later...

Setting the statement aside, Mandy idly tore open the letter as the water in the kettle bubbled. As she read, her brow dropped into a frown. She quickly forgot about the kettle. The letter was set aside as the second envelope was opened. Her frown deepened. One nine eight. The nineteenth of the eighth. Daniel’s birthday.

Mandy left the letters on the side, and made her way to the bottom of the stairs. “Danny!” she called.

“Yeah?”

“Does the name James Lewis mean anything to you?”

There was a pause. “Uh, don’t think so. Why?”

Mandy herself paused then. “Just reading the mail.” She replied, “There’s something from a man by that name. It’s nothing important.”

She waited several moments to be certain that Daniel had gone back to whatever he was doing, before walking into the living room and picking up the phone. She dialled in the number of one of her friends.

“Hello, Lisa? I’ve just been sent the oddest letter ...”

Kyle sat as his desk, thumbing a pencil. The day was slow, and he was still waiting for a single customer to walk into his office. It was 4:03. He continuously checked the clock for closing time. Three more hours... He thought. Minutes dragged on like hours, and it seemed like days until closing time. When the digital clock on the wall finally read 8 o'clock, Kyle sighed. Getting up from his leather chair, he shuffles towards the door.

It had been raining all day, and puddles formed on the side of the road. As he turned around to lock the door, a car drove by. Like a movie, the puddle splashed, and it's contents were dumped on Kyles jacket. Dropping his keys into the near black water, he fumbled to pick them back up. After multiple tries, he finally finds them, and proceeds to lock the doors of his private detective office.

He gets home about fifteen minutes later. His car stalled once in the deep water, but it starts back up again after several tries. Shutting the car door, he notices his mailbox is open. "That's not right...Postman Cebry always closes it when he delivers my mail..." Reaching inside, he pulls out an unmarked envelope. His heart slows a little, "That's not right," he says to himself. Opening the envelope, he reads the letter inside.

Right away, he notices the writing. The way the paper was pressed under the pen, and how the lines didn't match each other for the same letters pointed out the fact that it wasn't typed, but handwritten. The dark red ink was striking. Whoever it was that wrote this letter wasn't afraid to be personal with it, which meant the sender was confident. It definitely sounded like a threat. He flipped the letter over, and found a second, smaller, envelope. He raised an eyebrow as he opened the second letter and began to read. He stopped after the first sentence. It was a coincidence, right? The first letter asked him to think of a number between 0 and 480, and the second one guessed the number. Correctly. The number that popped into Kyle's mind was 198. He continued reading. He'd never heard of this "James Lewis" before, and the fact that he wanted money for something Kyle had done to him in the past struck him as odd. Kyle read the last half of the letter. He gasped slightly; it was a death letter. Someone was actually planning to kill him in three days. He rushes inside to look over these two ominous letters some more.

Reaching for a bottle of water from the fridge, he flicks on the light above the table and sits down. Several things struck him as strange. First of all, the letters were handwritten, written in the same hand and by the same person, and written in red ink. In the first letter, extra emphasis was placed on the word "mind". What is a hint? Whoever this "James" fellow was, Kyle was going to finding out, and let the police deal with him...or her. For now, Kyle mulls over the amount he was requested. It was odd that James requested such a specific amount. "238.93..." he thinks aloud, "Nopthing in the sound...it just seems completly random..."

"You're just not what we're looking for Mr. Sanford."

That phrase kept ringing in Niles Sanford's mind the entire bike ride home. He was sitting on a degree in History and he couldn't even hold a job. When he arrived home, or at least the dingy old apartment he called home, he lazily grabbed the mail from his box and headed up stairs. He flicked silently through the mail repeating in his mind, "Junk, Junk, Junk-" His repetition was interrupted by a single letter. He liked the way his name was written on the front of the envelope, perhaps he was being invited to some posh get together. The thought of that made him grin as he opened the envelope. His joy faded when it appeared as though someone did not like him very much.

"A number between zero and four-eighty." He said pondering for a moment

He opened the second letter and placed it back down onto his table. Impossible. The letter guessed his number right, how could that be. He picked the number one nine eight. Those where the last three digits of his old phone number when he had a house. He shook his head as he continued to read the letter, "238.93." He said frowning, "This has to be a scam, but I don't know why they'd send it to me, I don't have nearly enough money to spare." He tossed the letter idly across the table and walked across the apartment and to the television. He picked up the remote, but before he could turn the television on he stopped, "James Lewis." He said, trying to remember if he knew anyone named James Lewis or at least remembered doing something terrible to someone.

He shook his head silently, and decided that tomorrow he'd catch a ride down to this 198 Design Studio. He called up his friend Allen, "Hey man, I'm gonna need a ride tomorrow."

"Yeah I got some weird letter that doesn't make a bit of sense, and it has an address on it that I want to check out."

Jessica sighed. It had being another long and hard day at college. She was doing an art course and despite most people thinking it wasn't really a 'real degree' or 'hard work' she enjoyed it and thought that it was hard work. It was hard for most people. For her it was even harder. She was deaf. Dealing with that wasn't easy.

Lip-reading was a way of getting by. Not been able to hear anything she had to find ways to adapt. Her parents had sent her to special schools so she could fit in with people that had similar disabilities, but Jessie had been reluctant and withdrawn from her peers. She was one to stick to herself and even now - at college - she was more of a loner. Her schedule was home - college - home.

Arriving home, she saw the post on the floor and picked it up.

Bill.

Bill.

Rent. Which is a bill as well.

Bank - most likely complaining that I'm behind on my credit payments.

Jessica...

Bill - Wait. What?

Jessica scrolled back a letter. What? Who would write to her? Sighing, she opened the letter and read it. What kind of sick joke was this? She opened the smaller envelope. Oh, very funny. So they guessed her number. So what? Jessica rolled her eyes. It was one of those illusions or tricks. She'd seen it on the internet and tv before. It was a joke and a scam.

"238.93 pounds, my ass. You will not be scamming me. In fact, I think I'll be going down to you, Mr -" She looked at the letter, "-Lewis, that I'll give you a peace of my mind and then call the cops and let them in on your little scam."

With that, Jessie tossed the letter into the trash and got on with what she was doing. Like hell would she fall for some punk ass scam. It wasn't going to happen. She may be deaf, but she wasn't dumb or blind. She could see a scam when it was in front of her.

Rein walked into her house after a long day of work at L3NF Art Gallery. She walked straight towards her room so that she could drop her stuff off before heading back downstairs where she would be attacked by her three younger siblings. She loved them to bits but those kids just had way too much energy. Rein made her way down the stairs, after sitting her bag down on her bed. Her younger brother, Devon, thought it would be funny to jump on her back almost causing her to fall forward down the stairs. She grabbed the little boy and pulled him towards her shifting him so that he was on her hip.
“Hey Munchkin how was your day?” she asked as Devon wrapped his little arms around her neck. Rein and Devon had always been the closest of all the siblings. Though this doesn’t mean she didn’t love her other brothers and sisters. She just liked Devon a little more than the rest of them but she has her reasons why.
“It was great mum took me, Kayla, and Richie to the park and I got to play on the swings.” Devon replied as they walked into the kitchen with such a smile on his face even the Cheshire cat would be jealous.
“Oh that’s great, where is everyone at?” Rein asked Devon while sitting the boy down on the counter while she rummaged through the refrigerator looking for something for him and her to snack on. She grabbed a pudding cup for Devon and settled for a slice of cold pizza for herself.
“Mommy had to go to the store really quick so she left us here, she said you would be home soon and you are. Kayla is taking a nap and Richie is in his room he won’t talk to me so I don’t know what he’s doing.” Rein rolled her eyes at the statement about Richie. He was her 16 year old brother that did absolutely nothing. He was probably supposed to be watching Kayla and Devon but instead he’s locked up on his room. Rein would have to go check on him later and make sure he wasn’t up to mischief.
“Well Munchkin, guess it’s just you and me want to come with me to the mailbox?” She asked Devon. The little boy jumped off the counter and up the stairs to grab his shoes. He came back down at almost the same speed stopping in front of the door as Rein opened it. He had on mix match shoes but she didn’t care, the mail box was right down the street.
When they arrived back to the house Rein’s mom, Marie was in the kitchen putting away groceries.
“Hey mum do you need help?” Rein asked while taking everything that belonged to her out of the mail pile she just brought in.
“No dear I got everything, how was work?” Her mom asked her back but Rein was too distracted by the letter in her hand to answer. ‘How the hell did he know this was going to be my number’ she thought as she read the second letter. Not answering her mother back Rein reread both letters then she began to rack her brain trying to remember this so called James Lewis. She didn’t know a James Lewis.
“Mum do you know a man by the name of James Lewis?” She asked her mother still looking down at the paper in her hands.
“No sweetie I don’t think I do why do you ask?” Her mother replied after a second of thought.
“Never mind mum, I’ll just be up in my room ok.” She said while exiting the kitchen before her mother had a chance to reply. When she got upstairs to her room she re-read the letter for the third time. How was she supposed to come up with this money, she could barely afford school as it is. She knew what she would have to do, and with that thought she headed for Richie’s room.
“Richie, Richie I need your help, open your door please.” Rein said while knocking on her younger brother’s door. Richie opened the door an annoyed look on his face.
“What could you possibly want, I am busy minding my business and ignoring everyone.” He replied standing in her doorway.
“I got this letter from this guy that I don’t even know, you’re good at noticing things out of the norm can you help me please?” She practically begged her brother.
“Sure let me see it.” He replied and took the letter from Rein’s hand. “Well there’s nothing out of the norm here, but how are you going to pay him?” He replied after looking over the letter for a couple of minutes.
“I’ll take it out of my account, but I’m worried what if he knows things that no one else does, I mean shit he knew what number I was thinking of.” Rein said back on the verge of tears.
“Sorry sis but I can’t help you this time, but hey you can bring me when you go to this place deal.” Richie said while giving her a reassuring smile.
“Deal.” With this Rein walked back to her room to look over her photos to add to her portfolio for school, the letter the only thing on her mind.