unpeculiar

After having been involved in activities so perilous and improbable as those which it has been my fate to pursue, a desk job has its limits.  For the first few months since obtaining the position, I repeatedly quelled my persisting boredom with the notion that I was simply in some form of withdrawal from my previous career.  As the weeks passed and the feeling chose not to pass with them, I began to doubt this explanation in favor of the idea that I did not have sufficient closure for what I have called the Stonehenge project. It is for this reason that I have decided to once again take up the harrowing life of the wanderer, in utter denial

Some people possess the uncanny ability to gain the trust of animals nearly instantly, causing creatures to follow them home, or in rare cases sing to them.  Unfortunately, in my case animals are substituted with danger, and the concept has sung to me on only one occasion, which I have decided to omit here. I have returned to the surface world for a very specific mission; the recovery of a certain scrap of paper and piece of broken glass of no particular significance to anyone but myself and the wonderful facilities of the Atlantis Museum.  Such was my intention. I write to you now on the twentieth day of a task which I had estimated to spa

    Oh, the jig is up now.  I am not, as might be supposed, in Portugal at this time.  My efforts to undermine a certain branch of a certain secret society in London have come to an end, as the manuscripts to my stories have been found.  I went against my oath of secrecy, a crime to which the penalty is deep and severe.  I am in Australia now, and though I had hoped for consolation by the Prime Minister, I found that he has no way of protecting me.  My contacts around the world are being hunted now, but none more so than myself.  Nowhere is safe, for if any of my friends are still alive they have doubtless remained so due to an agreeance to h