​​this, therefore, is my call

to all writers: those of you who know of or have witnessed matters

inexplicable and incongruent,

i bid you to write them into a story and send them in.

I am working with my consultants from

joggling board press to sift

through the stories in hopes of A clue to who I am, where I came from and where I'm going. my quest begins where

i find myself first: in

the palmetto state, So. carolina.


Recently, I awoke in an unfamiliar room with no memory of who I am or how I got here. The immediate clues to my past lay in a battered trunk on the floor, stamped with a single word: 

Inside the trunk are several puzzling objects:

A slip of paper with an address on it, bearing a simple letter "R."
A walking stick, which proves useful with a limp I seem to have acquired.
A Saki cup with a tacky substance congealed in the bottom.
A ragdoll with blue button eyes.

A sheaf of bearer bonds.
A Remington typewriter, loaded, with an abundance of paper stacked beside it.

About my person, I am largely intact, with one notable exception, the particulars of which shall at this time remain discreet.

It is my conjecture there is more to my situation than meets the eye. I've begun a correspondence with the enigmatic "R," who I suspect knows more about my situation than he cares to reveal. He has counseled me to allow my story to play itself out, though not before alluding to involvement in the supernatural in this putrefying pluff of So. Carolina. With that knowledge, I resolve to collect stories of the odd and the occult among the palmettos in hopes of finding more clues to my mysterious past.