What Remains of It

(set: $st to (transition: "dissolve") + (transition-time: 4s)) The [woman]<woman| greets me with the same old city worn face (click: ?woman)[ She’d come from [[there]] too [A long time ago]<long| ] We talk while the kettle boils, until (link-reveal: "finally")[$st[ She grits her teeth, pressing a mug to my hands]] [[“It’s the public they abandoned,”]](click: ?long)[$st[ The seats are still squishy Despite the cracks in the artificial leather]]

(set: $st to (transition: "dissolve") + (transition-time: 4s)) [The eldest]<eldest| has forgotten the ache of hope (click: ?eldest)[$st[ He [sighs]<sighs| from across the dusty table]](click: ?sighs)[$st[ (text-style:"blur")[“Oh, pack it in [[It’s]] long gone”]]] [[His gaze]] never leaves the dirt streaked window to the side

(set: $st to (transition: "dissolve") + (transition-time: 4s)) [[They]] recommended the [diner]<diner| at the next town over (click: ?diner)[$st[ “Place has a filling station too, Not that that’ll mean much to you,”]] There’s a [weight]<weight| to the place (click: ?weight)[$st[ (text-style:"smear")[A faint candle glow]]] And [[inside]], civilisation (text-style:"blur")[Or [[what remains of it->“It’s the public they abandoned,”]] ]

<h2>What Remains Of It</h2>(text-colour:(hsl:0,0,0.5333,0.5))[An interactive poem] <h3>[[Play]]</h3><h3>[[About]]</h3> (text-colour:grey)[©Copyright Katie Campkin 2022]

(set: $st to (transition: "dissolve") + (transition-time: 4s)) $st[Whatever he can see, it’s not the rusting pumps outside]

I wrote this poem in October 2021 as a freewriting exercise. I had been writing a lot of apocalyptic and post apocalyptic themed poetry at the time, and for this one I considered locations that may become hubs in a post apocalyptic world. I immediately thought of the roadside diners you often see next to filling stations on large A-roads around the UK and wondered what kinds of characters might end up stopping there in a broken world, and what feelings they may have towards what happened to them. Upon re-reading the piece a year later, I realised that it would be an interesting poem to experiement with making interactive, which resulted in me creating this experience / game in Twine. The full poem can be read here: <h3>What Remains of It </h3> They recommended the diner at the next town over “Place has a filling station too, Not that that’ll mean much to you,” There’s a weight to the place A faint candle glow And inside, civilisation Or what remains of it The woman greets me with the same old city worn face She’d come from there too A long time ago We talk while the kettle boils, until finally She grits her teeth, pressing a mug to my hands “It’s the public they abandoned,” The seats are still squishy Despite the cracks in the artificial leather The eldest has forgotten the ache of hope He sighs from across the dusty table “Oh, pack it in It’s long gone” His gaze never leaves the dirt streaked window to the side Whatever he can see, it’s not the rusting pumps outside [[Back->What Remains of It ]]

(text-style:"mirror")[They recommended the diner at the next town over “Place has a filling station too," There’s a weight to the place A glow Inside, [[civilisation]]]

(text-style:"mirror")[The woman greets [[me->“It’s the public they abandoned,”]] We talk while the kettle boils The seats are squishy Artificial leather]

(set: $st to (transition: "dissolve") + (transition-time: 4s)) $st[(text-style:"mirror")[[[Old city->Old city]] They abandoned Despite the Ache of hope]]

(set: $st to (transition: "dissolve") + (transition-time: 4s)) $st[(text-style:"blur")[[[His gaze->His gaze]] never leaves]]

(text-style:"blur")[The man With the same old city worn face Abandoned [[Me]] At the Town over]

(text-style:"blur")[My Ache of hope (text-style:"smear")[A faint candle glow ] Despite My Dirt streaked Face [[Despite->“It’s the public they abandoned,”]] ]