Who's that crazy man always infront of his house?

[Travis Kroells 0]

“Who‘s that crazy man always sitting in front of his house?”…Danny’s logs (log 3)

 

 

 

Danny laid on the floor in his little hut, feeling the dirt on his hand, and the back of his head. Watching the ceiling, watching the sun pour in, it made Danny feel he could grab a cup and scoop it right up. He sighed and looked over to his bed. This resting activity could have easily been done from the soft comforts of the bed, but Danny found this much more….peaceful.

 

Nearly eight months had passed since the Manticore’s crew had been stranded here. By now, nearly every one seemed to be carrying on life, as if this place had been home for all their life…Danny too had to admit he had lost most of his desire to leave. For a second, he looked around the hut, a feeling of defeat taking over. He did want that tree house so badly…But he also didn’t want a tree to fall on him…so he gave it up….

 

 

His little hut, never changed, never renovated. All he had done to it, was built a little porch, and put an actual roof over it, incase of rain and stuff. Danny was lazy, but Danny also didn’t care. Recent reports from the Manticore, show that the Deuterium levels are up to ten percent…with the ever slowing process of making Deuterium, it’d be well over three years before the Manticore was ready…

 

Daniel groaned as the sun rose to the point that it shone in his eyes, and slowly rolled over, and then got up, and walked outside. It was nearly deserted outside. The main hub had changed a lot in the last six months. While the Manticore’s crew or nearly two hundred had originally settled in this area, now barely fifty were left. Most of the crew was ambitious enough to build away from the camp, to seek privacy. Danny smiled, because of people like that; Danny didn’t have to do anything! Most of the crew was spread out, in their little log cabins, and Danny finally got a little privacy.

 

Danny smiled, and sat down in his little rocking chair, under the poorly built porch. His hut was still near the “entrance” of the camp, that is, when most of the crew came in from the houses, they came in this way. This at least allowed interaction with people that came in, heh, he even put a sign saying “Last place for a nice chat” at the end of the camp, near his hut.

 

Eight months had done wonders for adjusting to life, and learning to quirks of the crew. Danny couldn’t help at laugh at half the odd stories he heard. Life was good, no; life was great at the moment. All Danny had to wake up to most days was a morning of greeting passer bys, and annoying Sten when he had the opportunity. Yeah…life was good.

[Travis Kroells 0]

::groans::