Misfit

January 8th

Look, I don't really know how to start this but I'll try my best. Here goes nothing, except if someone were to read this then, well, here goes everything.

The town's entered its eighth day of snowfall, the perfect way to start a new school year. Since moving I hadn't minded the cold. It was a nice reprieve from the monotonous eighty degree days of Greendale.

January twenty-third will mark three years since we left our comfortable, albeit dull, home for the dreary winter wonderland known as Dunderlake.

My father decided that after the accident we (read he) needed a change of scenery, a fresh start if you will. So, he quit his job, pulled me out of school, sold the house and shipped us up north.

Look, I won't defend Greendale as a bastion of culture and sophistication, but at least it had actual things to do and, you know, people. Dunderlake is, how can I put this gently, a soul-sucking ghost town draped in an oppressive curtain of snow and silence.

Actually, scratch that last part. What I meant to say is that on any given day if you go out on the town in good old Dunderlake, you won't hear people out and about, you know, enjoying life. What you will hear, however, is the constant drone of metallic clangs and machine whirring emanating from the town's only claim to fame: the Workshop.

Locals call it the Workshop, I suppose, in an attempt to give the place a cheerier veneer and distract from the fact that it is indeed just a massive factory. Despite being named after the not-so-impressive lake that it straddles, Dunderlake's economy, culture, and population are defined by its dependence on the Workshop.

Now, I've never been to the Workshop because of some rule that says only employees are allowed inside, at least that's what Dad said. Of course, my father could just be lying to me because, you know, that's just how he is. Although I have only seen adults sans kids coming down the hill from the place, so I guess he is telling the truth this time.

As I said, I've never been there myself and, based on my brief sleuthing at the local library (one of the few amenities the town offers), there also appears to be no photo or video documentation of the inner working of the enigmatic Workshop. What I did find out at the library, however, is that apparently, the Workshop is responsible for providing Dunderlake with all of its resources. And when I say all, I absolutely mean all.

The information came from a myriad of articles and one particularly thick book entitled "On Dunderlake and its various peoples". The book looked pretty old with a tattered cover and pages suffering from foxing. I wasn't really interested in learning the entire history of this place so I simply skimmed the pages until I came to the section on the Workshop. The book said that the Workshop actually did start out as a workshop. It was used by the town's only carpenter back in the early days of Dunderlake. As the years went by ownership passed from hand to hand and profession to profession. Because of the diverse history of the Workshop, the place now houses production for all of the town's carpentry, metalworking, agriculture, printing, textiles, and I guess anything and everything else the town needs.

So, long story short; the Workshop is massive and it is really important around this place. Getting back on track, like I said it's been snowing for the past week and today is the first day of the school year. And this year will be my final year of high school, thank the gods. I can hear the bus down the street so I guess that's my cue.

I've got to remember to write again after school.