The Telling

Once upon a time there was a place called Milost. Milost is Czech for grace, because one day some idiot went there and thought it seemed to deserve a name that meant graceful. Of course Milost is only what we call it, the locals used to call it Trish du Fife which meant City of Canals in their language. But after the revolution they began to call it File Caruma which meant Water Glass, because of all the windows that were broken over the water, lining the bottoms of the canals with sharp sparkling shards. It wasn’t water you would want to swim in anymore.
Milost is a city, sort of. It’s a city in the sense that it is a large collection of very tall buildings in close proximity to one another. But it’s not quite a city because nobody lives there. So I guess it all depends on how you define the word city. Words are funny things aren’t they? Always trying to trick you into thinking they’re something they’re not. But let’s not throw the apple too far from the tree, shall we? The ‘city’ I’m talking about is predominantly grey. All the buildings are made out of concrete and the sky is usually a chilly, muggy overcast, like a cold sweat. All the signs and words are pale blue and any decoration or furniture that was left has mostly rotted away by now. And anyhow the inhabitants were a pretty monochromatic bunch so anything that has survived the last hundred years usually fits the color scheme.
I myself am not a huge fan of Milost. Sure I had some good times there, a laugh or two. But overall I would rather be safe at home. After all, I didn’t even really want to go there in the first place. It was Carter who convinced me to go. That’s why I’m writing this. Because if he comes for you one day, telling you that he’s been looking for you for ages and you’re the only one who can do this really important thing that he needs you to do for the good of the world; you need to know, don’t buy it. It’s not worth it, and he can find someone else to help him on his pointless escapade into the File Caruma. Also, the man lies through his teeth, convincingly, and he’s dangerous.
So, I’m pretty sure that I should start my story off the day I met Carter O’Malley, since that’s really when things get interesting.