Hayden Ishikawa
@abrandedhound.bsky.social
“My future was never my call, my decision. It was never mine at all, but now that I have it...What do I do with it?” (DCRP) Penned by @digitalinkblot.bsky.social
— The message was as mysterious as the method of its delivery. Vaguely signed, unmarked, all a gamble by the sender who dealt their players a date, a time, a request.
“February 8th. 2100. Corner of Fifth and Elm, old cannery building, upstairs in the office.
From a friend.”
And that was that.
“February 8th. 2100. Corner of Fifth and Elm, old cannery building, upstairs in the office.
From a friend.”
And that was that.
January 12, 2025 at 5:21 AM
— The message was as mysterious as the method of its delivery. Vaguely signed, unmarked, all a gamble by the sender who dealt their players a date, a time, a request.
“February 8th. 2100. Corner of Fifth and Elm, old cannery building, upstairs in the office.
From a friend.”
And that was that.
“February 8th. 2100. Corner of Fifth and Elm, old cannery building, upstairs in the office.
From a friend.”
And that was that.
One o’clock PM.
Three-fifteen PM.
Four o-five PM.
Three letters arrived at three mailboxes, doors, or mail slots.
Through hell or high water these letters would find their destinations, even to those without proper addresses.
Inside the plain envelope was a typed—not handwritten—note.
—
Three-fifteen PM.
Four o-five PM.
Three letters arrived at three mailboxes, doors, or mail slots.
Through hell or high water these letters would find their destinations, even to those without proper addresses.
Inside the plain envelope was a typed—not handwritten—note.
—
January 12, 2025 at 5:21 AM
One o’clock PM.
Three-fifteen PM.
Four o-five PM.
Three letters arrived at three mailboxes, doors, or mail slots.
Through hell or high water these letters would find their destinations, even to those without proper addresses.
Inside the plain envelope was a typed—not handwritten—note.
—
Three-fifteen PM.
Four o-five PM.
Three letters arrived at three mailboxes, doors, or mail slots.
Through hell or high water these letters would find their destinations, even to those without proper addresses.
Inside the plain envelope was a typed—not handwritten—note.
—