Alan Thoreau (No relation to the author.)


*Alan Thoreau (no relation to the author)

Alan was one of those unfortunate dissidents who showed up to boot camp with his tie-dye peace bandana wrapped around his head. He attended Collins, a small liberal arts college until 1951. At this point, unbeknownst to Alan, his father was laid off from his job as a newspaper editor. One meeting with the dean and a conscription letter later, Alan found his world turned upside down.
The Korean War was in full swing. He quickly learned to keep a low profile, the first few weeks demonstrated that his anti-war sentiments would lead to frequent latrine duty, dropped food trays and the occasional bruise or black eye. From that point on he was proficient at all his exercises and military drills, endeavoring to be as close to average in every facet of military life. Then he shipped out.
In 1952 during one of the battles over the mountainous region called Old Baldy near Yokk-on Ch’on lake, he went MIA, presumed dead. Nobody ever found his body, all that was recovered was his pack which included his muddy peace bandana, a wooden chess set, and a half-written letter to his sister.

Alan finds himself in Rook’s Beach. His only possession is a pen that has a knife sticking from the end of the handle. He periodically looks at it finding the object oddly unique. He looks over the edge of the dock and staring back is an average height, average build, pinkish hued individual. His eyes and ears and mouth look large on his remarkable not large body. The pupils of his eyes almost seem to spin when something catches his attention. Likewise his ears very lightly flutter as an unexpected horn blasts of the barge.
Alan doesn’t remember anything of his past, but he does know that his pen/knife feels oddly familiar in his hand. He’s looking for something novel, but he’s not quite sure what or why. He doesn’t know this yet, but he is very interested in taking care of himself. He wants to be comfortable and secure. He is willing to do this at other’s expense, but only if he can justify it. Don’t call him Robin Hood, cuz he’s not donating any of his winnings, but you get the idea. He also doesn’t know this, but if anyone were to refuse a fair deal he offers he’s liable to fly into a fit of frothing rage.

Alan Thoreau (No relation to the author.)

Fresh From the Hedge Palantier