So this is technically last week's story. Which means I should have another one posted by Saturday. Let's see how well that works out, shall we? I like epistolary stories... well I like writing them anyway. I like unreliable narrators. I like writing with someone's bias other than my own. This story also has a lot of jargon. I love jargon. I love making up tidbits about fictional worlds and having characters talk about them as if they were real.
Hey remember last week's story? The one about the salesman? There will be more of it someday. I just got a little pressed for time and last week the imaginary deadline of Saturday night that I make for posting my stories meant a lot more to me than it did this week. So I will finish it someday, and it will probably be as underwhelming as the first part.
In my defense for this story being posted late, I would like to say I have been doing a lot of non-short story writing lately (specifically screenwriting), and because it's generally of a more time sensitive nature, it comes first.
Anyway, I hope you like this week's (and by that, of course I mean last week's) story. It involves space and pirates and diaries. I don't want to say too much more, because it involves precious little else and to say more would make reading the story unnecessary.
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