This is the last straw.

Mayor or milkman or... whoever's doing all this, stop messing with our minds! It's completely unethical!

What is wrong with this England friend of yours? He threatened me; told me he'd kill me where I stood if I ever spoke to either of you again.

He wasn't always like this, was he?

Another Christmas, is it? Let's hope the town's not got anything planned so that we can make our own fun. After ten years, I think we all deserve a bit of a proper holiday.

[OOC: Since I failed at getting to the plotting post in time, feel free to assume that your characters know her! Same with the family units; first come, first serve and all

Right-- something's happened, clearly, and I don't know where I am. This doesn't even look like my street.

[...]

How am I supposed to find my way back? All the houses look the same.

[she's twelve, and surly-- have fun!]