Doors

[the handwriting is small, elegant, and crisp, written in black ink.]

My dear people.

I must say that this is an entirely unexpected but delightfully different outcome than the one I was sure I was due for. I won't complain about the state of affairs, as they certainly are tolerable, at least in part. I knew time travel was possible, but parallel universes? Incredible! What wondrous things I can do with this!

But I've been rude - I haven't even introduced myself. While I doubt any of you will see my name in your newspapers, you will see my deeds, and you will absolutely feel the effects of my actions in good time. I would hate to disappoint anyone who recognizes me, or leave the impression that I am not a man of my word on those who don't.

- Acheron Hades

[the name is signed a little larger than the rest of the writing, and with a sharp flourish.]

[Locked to Simon C. and Noah B.]

Saturday, 3pm. Club owner agreed to give us some time to work together. Club's still closed, so we shall have the place to ourselves. Interested?

[Public]

I'm looking for recommendations for a good physical therapist.

[Written in black ink, fairly neat letters but with no flourish at all. From John W.]

So these are my choices. Trapped in the brain of a girl that's too daft to realize I'm there, though at least I got her to go through the damn door. Or trapped in a city in a flat that is nothing but bad, and that I frankly can't afford any longer. Reenlisting is beginning to look better and better. Someone talk to me before the boredom drives me mad.

[Written quickly, without much thought.]

[Public]
Am I the only one who feels rather better about this entire mess after visiting that hotel? Now is the moment to insult me, for those of you in the audience who enjoy such things.

Ring!

[Posted on the Las Vegas CraigsList]

Musician looking for local work

Newly arrived in Las Vegas, looking for anyone interested in hiring a pianist. Available for a variety of work, including accompaniment, parties, gigs, etc. I play a variety of styles, including jazz, classical, modern rock.

Please ring me at [702]555-7575

[Elias' letters are almost cryptically antique, schoolyard cursive with high block type capitals, put together in deep black ink. It looks like it takes almost no effort, but his phrases have balance and strange appeal.]

I was hoping it was something I ate. No one has come up with a cure yet?

[Simon's hand is scratchy and uneven.]

Anybody done anything stupid enough to get hurt yet because of this fucking thing?

[Micah's handwriting is neat and narrow, cramped together with tall upstrokes]

Strange journals should really come in the mail with instructions included.