Tales Between the Lines

Intermezzo

This is not a Tale Between the Lines, in the strict sense, since it wasn't born in an exchange of comments. Rather, since @jinnis was leaving for a holiday and we were unable to squeeze in our next Tale before that, we decided to write an intermezzo. A short, light piece of entertainment to keep our readers happy.

We utterly failed at this. It's neither short, nor light, and we have major doubts about it keeping our readers happy.

We started out by giving the story a title: Emails From the Deep. It was to be an email conversation between two figures trapped in bunkers. This is what became of it over the course of a weekend.

Warning: If you're here for the light, funny tone of the Tales Between the Lines, skip it.

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Emails from the deep — or speaking to the void

From: camille.mahey@yahoo.fr
To: All

Hello? Is there anybody out there? Hmm, probably not, not after five months of sending mass emails out into the void formerly known as the World Wide Web and never getting an answer.

If you're out there anyway, don't hesitate to contact me. You know, there's no risk of me coming over and rob you. At least not as long as the radiation levels outside don't drop significantly. And even then, I never made robbery a hobby so far, so I guess I shouldn't start with it now after I miraculously survived not only all the storms the unacknowledged, officially neglected climate change brought, but also the man-made destruction following after—the bombs, the poisonous rain, the desperate days in the bunker.

But if you read this, you're probably in the same situation and don't want to dwell on the past. I don't, either. There's nothing you or I can do to change anything. Let me tell you something about myself instead. I'm a writer. Wouldn't have guessed, would you? Well, actually I'm just an amateur, a wannabe writer. I was other things too, before the fallout. But that's the past and buried with everyone I knew, everything I believed in. Today, I'm solely a survivor and a writer.

The survivor part is evident. I still live and breathe, feel the urge to eat and pee and sleep. I also feel the urge to see the sun and go for a long walk in the forest, swim in the sea, or climb a mountain. It's not happening anytime soon though. I've everything I need to sustain me, and for a very long time. But leaving the shelter is not an option.

I'm also completely alone here. Normally this place should house fifty or even a hundred people. So I guess I'm lucky to have it all to myself, including the stores. But honestly, it's awfully lonesome. I don't know why everybody else never showed up. But they didn't, and that's that. Nothing to be done about it.

Well, I better stop, or I'll write myself into another state of depression. If you happen to read this, you'll probably think me a complete moron.

If you don't, try to imagine a summer day, sitting in a lavender field. A gentle wind sways the blossoms slowly while bees and butterflies sit on dark violet flowers, oblivious to the wind and your presence. Beautiful, isn't it? Well, this is certainly a nice picture to end this message on.

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From: jane.tamaro@map.doggle.cern
To: camille.mahey@yahoo.fr

Hey, OMG!!

I can't believe it!

Someone's out there!

I thought I was the last one alive. Sitting in this hole, waiting for the end. This used to be a big bunker here, but there was an explosion. Killed all the others, and most of the place has collapsed. It's now just me in this one room. No food for days, I'm dizzy from hunger. A trickle of water running down a wall has kept me alive. Don't know if it's safe for drinking, but I'm drinking it anyway—it's all I have.