Chatterbox: Pudding's Place

You step out of the door of your house for a second to get the mail. The cool breeze whips your hair around as you push the old rusty mailbox open and rummage inside. Your hand brushes one single letter, and you pull it out.

It's addressed to...you! Strange, there's no return address. Curiously, you sit down on the floor of the porch and rip it open. The writing is in strange, old-fashioned cursive.

Dear Reader,

It says. 

You have been chosen, by anonymous vote, to travel to Paris, France, along with 11 other lucky winners! The purpose of this, besides sight-seeing, is to attend our weekly Friday Night Writing Sprints! The trip is completely free,* and they will help you attain better writing skills. 

Your limousine arrives in five hours. This message will self-destruct.

*this includes all expenses, except pencils and paper, which can be bought for a modest fee.

Sincerely, The /////////////////

The signature is scribbled out. Then you notice a postscript underneath.

p.s. The ///////////// is not responsible for the following: limousine crashes, being stabbed by pencils, suffocation, or anything else.

It bursts into a cloud of dust, and you step back. Then you push aside your doubts and rush inside to pack. Five hours!

12 people and their Æs may join.