PlayerOliver

When you were a kid, you lived with your grandmother in the small town of Silvertree, on the edge of a magical forest. Grandma is a witch, and she taught you how to use your magic to affect the natural world, too. “Magic is a part of you,” she always told you. “Learning how to use it means figuring out who you are.”

Now you’re 19 and on your own. After years of living in the forest while you perfected your witchcraft, you’ve returned to take care of your grandmother’s house and crow-familiar while she’s gone. Figuring out who you are feels more important than ever - not to mention, figuring out what Silvertree is. A lot is just as you remembered: the friendly generous next-door neighbors with a kid just your age, the proud town council, the quaint little shops with quirky punny names, the gentle shadowy forest full of magic.

Stone in the shoe

"I'm not sure—big enough that it was on display, anyway. It's a whole thing. It'd better be bigger than me to deserve all the daily updates that story's been getting."


"So yeah—people already think nothing happens here, and if all the news they see is that kind of stuff, they'll probably just assume nothing ever happens here. And if they think that, they probably wouldn't bother reading the news, so they might never know if something actually did happen."


"I always hear people say stuff like 'nothing happens in Silvertree'—and I do get why. It's a small town, and there's not always a lot to do. But stuff is still happening here all the time. It's just that people don't always take it seriously—like just because it's not a big city, nothing that happens here matters."


A different sort of expression comes over their face then—more distant, somehow, as if they're losing themself in thought. But it isn't just a wistful look; there's a tinge of bitterness around their stiffened mouth.


It only lasts a moment, however—you blink, and Marlowe is looking at you the same as before. You get the feeling that, whatever was on their mind, they wanted to keep it to themself.


"Anyway—that's partly why I can't make up my mind about staying in Silvertree. There might be more opportunities in other places, but I don't just want this site to disappear either. I guess for now, I'm just trying to figure out what I can do while I'm still here. I want to be a journalist, but I want to do more than just write about field trips to petting zoos."


"Right now? I mean—you want to help?"


"Yeah, why not?" you say. "It sounds fun. And if you never actually write it, they'll never get to publish it anyway."


Almost in spite of themself, Marlowe grins.


"Well…okay. Yeah. Why the hell not?" they laugh. "They won't mind if we use the computer. I can show you all the fancy programs they have for writing articles. I bet they wouldn't even care if we printed it out. Or what if, instead of a column, we made it into a zine or something? They sell those sometimes at the coffee shop. Wow, I'm getting way too excited."


The two of you start brainstorming your best ideas as Marlowe switches on the computer, and soon you're having the best time picking your favorite designs for the ultimate collection of strange and spooky news.


Nearly an hour later, you're both staring proudly at your new creation: the first issue (or at least the layout—you haven't fleshed out all the articles yet) of a publication you've decided to call:


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