storyprompt.

[For around a year, I published a series of daily writing prompts and ideas on Twitter.

http://twitter.com/#!/storyprompt

Here is a selection.]



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Hanging on by your fingertips from the window ledge of the bedroom of the royal princess of a country you'd never been to before last week.

Walking as far as you can, eyes screwed tightly shut. After a while you lose all sense of time or place.

Packed: A compass. The old map. Some food, wrapped in brown paper. A skin of water, bulging at its seams. And a single photograph.

That first cigarette, legs dangling off the unfinished bridge at the end of the world.

Balancing precariously. You keep as still as possible, praying like hell that the wind doesn't pick up.

Living in the belly of a whale. Plotting your escape.

And that's how you ended up in the middle of Piccadilly station, wearing somebody else's clothes.

Everyone in animal masks. They can't tell you're an outsider.

Stumbles across a sculpture of bones; an underwater graveyard for sharks.

The drums get louder. There is dancing, singing. You strain at the ropes. All the time, the drums get louder.

You went to live alone in a cottage in the woods. That was forty years ago. Now it's time to go back.

Rescued from a burning building by someone you really hate.

Acid rain. The thick, fat green clouds are gathered on the horizon, being blown this way.

As a child, your parents forced you to memorise an entire encyclopaedia.
In her pockets: Fluffy the Rabbit, four biscuits....and a knife. Lucy left home at dawn, the airship ticket held in a tight, tiny hand.

Making a dress for the princess. The pinnacle of your career.

The cast - ill, injured, changes of heart. Someone really doesn't want this play to happen. But the show must go on.

Every human is allowed to break the law once in their lifetime, with no consequences.

A small amount of a strangely-coloured, thick liquid sits in the bottom of a glass tube. "Two steps forward, one step back", you think.

Orchestra, on tour. Lost in the snow, with only two days until the next concert. The mood is sombre, until Phillippe strikes up a song.

When you open your eyes, you aren't where you were a moment ago.

Pilgrimage to a dank basement in a dirty back street in downtown New Orleans.

You are: Smaller than a fly, stronger than a bull.

Daytime - fixed at 12 hours on, 12 hours off.

Beached whale, moans terribly; seems injured, though no-one sees where. It opens its mouth wide...a team of experts heads in to explore.

A network of wooden walkways, built upon stilts. They lead across the swamp.

Deciphered: the language of birds. With enough effort, it can be learned. Ten people in the world are fluent. There is one native speaker.

The mood grows awkward between the crew and the captain.

Shadow in the water. Bigger than you. Bigger than the boat. Your daughter's craning her neck over the side, trying to see what it is.

The girl with the birthmark on her face, the guy who's confident but not popular, and the captain of the football team.

Giant bird stalks remote village. Going outside is impossibly dangerous.

Discovered: sound waves damage your health. By strict government order, music is banned. Viva la resistance!

Delusions: the girl believes she's made of glass.

Miss America's time in prison.

It drips on the unconscious man.

Boy with accordion. Fox in backpack.

Wolf girl, rides bicycle.

The colour pink and the colour grey have swapped for the weekend.

New wireless headphones: stuck in your ears. One song on repeat, and nothing you can do about it.

One-way ticket for the train to the end of the world. Everyone on board is wearing a mask. Out of the window: endless fog.

Tomorrow: the world dolphin training championships. You've practiced hard, but now Sparky's gone missing! Oh no! What could have happened?

In a small area of Africa, over a period of around a fortnight, every single giraffe turns up dead. Science is at a loss to explain it.

They weren't there when you went to sleep. But you wake up, and there they are - four words, scrawled messily on the ceiling.

Man lives aboard first flying home, an aircraft, refueled every day in midflight. His son, born in the sky, has never been on the ground.

All you can remember in this sort of situation is the one piece of advice you were given before you left: don't drink the seawater.

You've won! One plane ticket to anywhere. The catch: you pick a plane. We'll tell you where it's going after it leaves.

The world's cities: overrun by wild animals. But as always, society learns to cope.

Revealed: offshore wind farms for blowing, not for being blown. The British Isles are sailing away. But to where? And who's doing this?

I was raised by wolves, but have since left the forest, and adjusted to society...with the exception of one behaviour I can't seem to shake.

Every emotion you feel is doubled, from this moment on.

In ten seconds, you will be on live television. Ten....nine....

You know someone who always does what they are told.

Your current emotional state, summed up in one word, appears on your forehead - approximately once every five minutes.

You can speak every language in the world. Everyone else only speaks their native tongue.

You can read entire books in a matter of seconds.

Your new job is to photograph every species of animal on the planet.

Your wireless headphones get stuck in your ears, and you lose the player. You can't stop listening.

You own a hot air balloon.

You go temporarily blind at 7pm every evening, for a single hour.

rare flowers of the world.

Phoenix Flower

The Phoenix Flower is prized for its bright petals, of course.

It has no leaves, so it has real trouble making chlorophyll. Because of this, each flower dies, shortly after sunset.

However, the seeds it leaves behind have an incredible germination speed, and so, shortly after sunrise, a new, full-size plant grows in the exact same spot as before.

Invisible Daffodil

This flower was discovered in 1871 by an explorer called Stanley Rourke, deep in the mountains of Peru.

Unfortunately he was unable to bring a sample back, and none have since been discovered. There is no further data or information.

Before his death, Rourke also discovered the Transparent Daffodil, the Glass Posy, and the African Chameleon Flower.




Double Daisy

White daisies usually grow on the bright, sunny sides of mountains. Black daisies grow on the darker, wetter sides of mountains.

The Double Daisy is a very rare flower that grows only on the very tops of tall mountains, soaking up both the sun and rain. It turns pale on one side, and dark on the other.

These daises are worth lots of money, so some flower dealers make fake ones by cutting white and black daisies in half, and combining the two. However, they never usually do the stems, so check there for authenticity.




Gloomy Sponge

In the deepest caves and the darkest caverns, these are usually one or two of these completely black-coloured flowers.

They have tiny petals (as there's no need for them) and numerous leaves (to pick up every drop of light they can).

They can survive on mere drops of light for months at a time. Botanists estimate that they receive this from fireflies.

No-one knows what would happen if these flowers were placed outside, in direct sunlight.




Drooping Hightrap

This plant looks like a tree, and is as tall as a tree – but it's actually a flower, and as such, its huge petals close up at night.

This behaviour may resemble that of various carnivorous plants, but in fact, no digestion occurs. Consequently, small animals often use the nightly cage as a sort of airborne shelter.

In fact, when the petals open up in the morning, there's no knowing what's going to fall out.




Roman Candle

This multicoloured plant produces an innumerable amount of seeds – but each of them has an infinitely minuscule chance of actually taking root.

Its bright, garish petals attract the maximum amount of insects, of all different species, to which the plant's sticky seeds attach themselves. The creatures spread the seeds far and wide, giving them the highest possible chance of germinating.




Nowegian Royal

Due to an anomaly in the local soil nutrients, this flower only grows in the Norwegian royal gardens.

As such, it is celebrated throughout the country in art, poetry, and song, as the most beautiful flower in the world.

Despite this, the Norwegian Royal is generally considered to be rather ugly, and possibly even a weed rather than a flower.




Alpine Howler

These flowers have a finger-sized hole, or funnel, in their centre. When the wind blows, it rushes through this gap, causing a sound not unlike the howling of a wolf.

Rabbits and other small animals have been known to settle down close by to patches of Alpine Howlers, in the hope that the noise will deter the would-be predators.




Salisbury Pinhead

The Salisbury Pinhead is the smallest flower in the world, and is in fact even smaller than an actual pinhead. Its real size is more like the point of a needle.

The flower has been known about for some time – but for years it remained out of the official textbooks because botanists couldn't agree on whether or not it was actually there.




Thousand Needle

The large petals of the Thousand Needle are colourful, soft, and attractive. In addition, the plant exudes a pleasant, sweet smell. This leads to many people trying to pick it from the ground, for decorative purposes.

However, when this happens, the would-be picker's fingers are invariably cut by one of the numerous, tiny barbs along the stem.

The plant gains many of its essential nutrients from the blood of human fingers.




Sleeping Beauty

The Sleeping Beauty flower hibernates for years at a time.

During its slumber, to protect against herbivores, its petals fill with a deadly poison. Soon after its awakening, the poison disappears again.

In this latter, awakened state, the flower has a pleasant taste. It is especially perfect for teas.
Unfortunately there is no visible different between the two states.




Blue Rose

It has only ever been seen once, and once only. The renowned Ashley Fieldcroft came across it on one of his explorations – but when he returned later with photography equipment, it was gone.

They searched everywhere, of course, but the Blue Rose hasn't been seen since.

In the intervening years, it has become the most mythical, and the most sought-after plant on the planet. It is said that whoever finds it will instantly become a millionaire.




Oriental Sunbeam

The large, red-coloured petals and leaves of the Oriental Sunbeam retain the sun's heat extraordinarily well. They are therefore pleasantly warm to the touch.

For this reason, they have been used for centuries in the cooking and cuisine of their native East-Asian habitat.




Chicory Chef

At the centre of this flower, there are several strange appendages. They look a little like antennae, but their use is in fact closer to a tongue.

Using these extensions, the flower “tastes” the air, extracting particles of dust – its only source of nutrition.

To achieve this, the tongues have to be very sensitive. In fact, they are so sensitive, that if you drop a single sugar crystal onto the flower, it will experience a taste overload, causing it to shrivel up and die.




Lying Pansy

This is an extremely crafty flower. It emits a sweet yellow substance that is as sticky as glue, luring insects in and trapping them on the petals.

However, unlike similar plants, it doesn't then digest the insect. Instead, it waits for a larger predator, such as a toad or bird, to try and steal its captive bug.

As this larger animal attempts to remove the insect from the glue, the flower's petals open up – and swallow them both whole.




Hypnothea

This large, bizarre-looking flower employs a unique pollination tactic.

Its circle of blue fronds gently twists and wiggle, whenever a large animal passes by. These targets can include anything from foxes and wolves, to deer, or wildebeest.

As the creature stares, entranced, the flower's central section extends, and attaches several “blobs” of pollen to its body. Later, elsewhere, other plants will extract the pollen using the same method.




Beatrice's Fountain

This flower's cup-like petals catch plenty of rainwater – but this is difficult to transfer to the soil, and therefore to the roots.

The “Beatrice's Fountain” solves this by collecting the water, and spraying it gently onto the ground using a perforated, nozzle-like growth. It's possibly the only plant that waters itself!

The name comes from Denmark's Queen Beatrice, who was first to use these flowers as a decorative feature in her vast, extensive gardens.




Indian Umbrella

The Indian Umbrella starts off small, sheltering mice and snails from the monsoon. The urine from these creatures makes its way through the soil, to the plant's roots, helping it to grow larger.

As it grows, it begins to shelter bigger animals, including wolves, or even bears!

These bigger plants are often harvested, and sold to tourists in local marketplaces. They are surprisingly effective, even several months after they've been plucked.




Rabbit's Cradle

In the depths of winter, and the sun goes down, it's difficult for animals to resist crawling inside this warm, soft, relaxing flower. Birds are also known to lay their eggs here.

Unfortunately for these trusting creatures, by morning, the Rabbit's Cradle will have closed completely. By the time it opens again, up to a week later, it will once again be completely empty.

The animal or egg will have disappeared forever.




False Owl

The stems of these plants are particularly delicious to mice and voles.

To ward off these creatures, the flower grows an arrangement of leaves and seeds that resembles the appearance of an owl.

They are often grown in gardens and farms, to function as miniature scarecrows.




Dragon Lure

This plant produces vast quantities of a very strong, concentrated nectar, which is beloved by a specific species of red dragonfly.

Because of this, it is permanently covered with a thick cloud of these insects, who feed to their heart's content.

Looking at photographs of these flowers, it appears that the red spikes – the dragonfly tails – are part of the plant. In fact, no-one has ever been able to glimpse what the flower actually looks like.




Bermuda Firebomb

The red growths on this extremely rare plant are the hottest chilis known to man.

It is said that its roots feast on the salty tears of any animal stupid enough to actually eat it.

The chilis are available in several Bermudan restaurants, but in all cases, ordering them requires the signing of a liability waiver.




Balloon Flower

The orange fronds on this plant are actually hollow. A self-produced gas fills them up like balloons, and the flower takes off into the air.

As it drifts in the wind, its long tail drops dozens of seeds all over the land.

Zeppelin or glider flight is normally banned in areas where these flowers are known to grow, following the Hindenburg disaster of 1937.




Origami Blossom

The petals of the Origami Blossom are many times lighter than a feather. They grow to full size, before detaching from their plant, and blowing away in the breeze.

At this point, the flying petals look very similar to butterflies. They are known to confuse several species of frog, which rely on these butterflies for food.

This has led to bitter arguments between wildlife conservationists, who want to protect the frogs, and botanists, who want to protect the flowers.




Foxglove Tower

Any foxglove which grows over twenty feet becomes known as a “Foxglove Tower”. They are technically the same species, but are rare enough for them to merit special attention.

Current statistics indicate that one in every hundred thousand foxgloves grows into a Foxglove Tower. There are usually only one or two in the world at any one time.

As of yet, a specific cause or trigger remains unidentified.

postcards to strangers (2)

[Postcrossing is a website where you send postcards to people you don't know, and then some other people send postcards to you.

I've been sending some along with this message:


"A few years ago, in the basement of a new house I'd moved into, I found a box of postcards. They were all to, and from, completely different people. I think maybe somebody who used to live there was a collector, or something. It's strange, though. None of the postcards were ever addressed, or ever sent.

I've started sending them out on Postcrossing. I don't know who the writers are, but at least they'll finally get sent. I don't know who was meant to read them, either, but at least now someone will.

I hope you like it." ]


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James, by the time time you read this, I should be camping somewhere up in those mountains! It got a bit hairy taking my ice axe through customs, but it turned out okay. I've still got the package, of course. Now let's just hope that your map was well-drawn! Speak to you in a few weeks. Nick.



Hi Julia. I arrived on the island today. See the plants? The forests here are out of this world. I'm told that the gold dust on the leaves is made by a special kind of insect - a bit like a silk worm. Julia - it's real gold! They harvest it every morning and ship it abroad. I know what you're thinking, but please don't. I'm a changed man now. I'd never dream of taking any. Back soon. Nick.



Joe, this view reminds me of the hill we used to sit on. The one overlooking the city. Just a few beers and a guitar - I'll never forget it! Hey - did you ever take Mary-Lou up there in the end? This is my city now. A few rocks, and not much else. To tell the truth, I can't wait to come home. 'til then, Nick.




Fuyuko, does this remind you of home? I still feel kind of guilty that I'm the one here and not you. You're still saving money though right? You'll be out here soon? Email me. Nick.




Holly, this is the outpost I've been billeted at. Strange they've got postcards of it, right? I got it from the only shop in the village, just a few miles down the hill. Work starts tomorrow. It looks like it'll be pretty intense, but I'll try to keep writing. By the time I've finished, those red flowers will be blooming. I'll bring you a bunch of them when I come home, okay? Nick.

read me.

[Flash fiction: stories in mere handfuls of words.]


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Among the bushes and the leaves, I crouch, waiting. It's night, but dawn is just showing on the horizon. There's not much time left.

I'm waiting for the golden stag. It only comes out once a year, and only when the sun is down. It's said that one look at it will change your life forever. But I've been here all night, and I haven't seen a thing.

As dawn breaks over the horizon, I mutter a curse. I head home and go to bed - I'll need rest for tomorrow.

If only I knew which night of the year the damn thing appears.



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"Democracy isn't working," it was announced yesterday. "Instead, one person will be in charge of everything. We'll have a lottery, with everyone having an equal chance."

The selection was done that very night. On every TV and computer monitor in the entire country, on every billboard, in every headline, on every posted on every bus stop, in magazines, flyers, leaflets and handouts - there was my name.

That was a whole 24 hours ago now. I made it to the woods before everyone found me. It's cold here; cold and wet. I'm hungry and alone.

But I'm never going back.



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When he heard about the approaching forest fire, Gerald fetched the gasoline.

"Don't worry," he promised his family. "This is truly for the best."



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"Can I have a go?" he asked.

"No, of course not," she said. "Utterly out of the question."

"Oh come on. Why not?"

"Some things are just impossible," she said firmly.

"Please?" he begged, "I really want a go. Can't you make an exception?"

She looked at his eager face, and couldn't help but cave.

"Well, okay," she said. "But just this once, alright?"

He nodded, grinning ear to ear.

They found the aeroplane's wreckage three days later, washed up on a beach in Mexico.




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I see Charles writing in his diary every night. He went to work one day, and I guiltily looked inside. Every entry was nearly the same. "I didn't do anything today," the first one said. "Today was a blank," said the second.

I was shocked at first, but when I thought about it, I realised that he was right. Five minutes later, when I left the flat for the last time, I felt pretty bad. But then I thought - maybe today's page would finally be different.




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"Wake up! You're late!" I yell.

The door opens and something that looks like Robert walks out.

"Hi," it says.

"Umm...."

"Isn't it cool?" the real Robert calls out from within the room. "It can do everything for me! Work, walk, eat, talk. Living, loving, everything. I'll never have to get up again!"

The new Robert smiles.

"So you're just going to stay in bed?" I ask, but there's no reply. He's already gone back to sleep.

The new Robert stares at me, beaming incessantly.

"Hi," it says.




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My disease: whenever I fall in love, I turn completely invisible. This causes terrible problems with the women in my life. They always leave; every single one. It's OK now though - I have a new girlfriend.

She's totally blind. We're getting along great. It's perfect because she has no idea that I'm still there.




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The genie zooms out of the lamp. "You get three wishes," it says. "But they have to be things that no-one has wished for before."

I think hard. Money, fame, immortality - all already taken, of course. I try smaller, simpler things. A sandwich. A free haircut.

"Already taken, I'm afraid," says the genie.

I'm there for hours, racking my brains. At last, I think of something.

"I wish I was more of an individual. I wish I had a bigger imagination, with more hopes and dreams. I wish I stood out. I wish my mind worked in a different way to everyone else's. I wish I was special."

"Already taken," the genie says, yawning.

these plants

[Published in "Fast Forward: The Mix Tape, A Collection of Flash Fiction, Volume Three".

http://fastforwardpress.org/vols.html

http://www.amazon.com/Mix-Tape-Nancy-Stohlman/dp/0981785220 ]


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The first time I saw green shoots growing out of my skin, I pruned them with a pair of scissors, went to sleep, and though no more about it.

But by the next morning, they were back. So I watered them under the tap. The flowers started to grow. They grew so fast that I could see it happening. I went out into the garden. The flowers grew up, above the fence, above the streetlights, above my house. They grew past the clouds, up into the sky where you couldn't see them any more.

That afternoon, a young man came along and asked if he could climb my stalks, up to the flowers. He said he wanted to see what was up there. I said okay.

In the next few days, lots more people climbed my stalks. I watched them disappear, one by one, through the clouds.

I kind of wanted to go up there too, but I couldn't because they were my flowers and you can't climb yourself. There'd be nothing to hold on to.

postcards from strangers

[When I was in Japan, someone gave me a whole pack of postcards to places I'd never been. I decided to write made-up messages on them, from made-up people. Then I posted them to strangers. Maybe they'll think that "I" got the address wrong, and maybe then they'll think they're getting a brief insight into other people's lives.

Or maybe they'll realise as soon as they see Japanese postcards with English stamps on them. Who knows.]

This is the view from our outpost. Do you remember it, Anya? I took the picture late last night; Ryunosuke made it into a postcard in about five minutes. He's a wizard with his Mac, I swear. I'm doing okay, just a bit nervous, that's all. Not long to go now. I'll be back soon. See you then - Nick.

I know you'll like this picture, Jean. The rescue vehicles finally arrived! I'll be back soon, maybe before this card. I can't believe how small the research centre looks.....strange to think I'll never go back, after all this time. But I'm dying to come home. Until then, your loving father.

Emiko, have you ever been to Kyushu? You'd love it here. The flowers and grass go on for hours, miles in every direction. They take you round on small wooden carts, old rickety things that clatter as they go. Maybe I'll take you here someday. See you soon - Nick.

David. They took this picture straight after the frost. It's already in all the papers.....I couldn't believe it, but I guess it is pretty. We were going back to the inn at the time. Got caught right in the middle of it. We hid underneath a bush to escapr the worst of the wind, but I swear we still nearly froze to death. Oh well. It's a story, I suppose. See you soon. Nick.

Hi Mikhail! See those trees on the front? They're Sakurajima fire trees. Burning hot to the touch! I think it developed as a defence machanism against squirrels. Pretty cool, but I wish I'd known about it beforehand. See you soon! Nick.

Jane, you can't imagine how I felt when I woke up here, with no memory of how or why I arrived. It's coming back to me now... I'm trying to feel angry, but I understand why you did it. I don't know when I'll be back. I don't really feel like leaving right now. One day. Nick.

free stories (2)

[Stories told in mere handfuls of words.]


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Champion of the World

If you want to be the polar arctic rock face climbing champion of the world, you've got to work at it. You've got to climb every day until your fingers bleed. You've got to practice technique, and take baths of ice to get used to the cold. It's tough, but that's what it takes to get to the top.

This morning I decided that I don't want to be the polar arctic rock face climbing champion of the world.



Eye Contact

I read on the Internet that eye contact is the key to social confidence. If you meet someone's gaze head-on, and they look away first, then you know you're the dominant person in that situation.

I believe it. Though it's not a skill I've ever really had. The last time I looked someone in the eye was twenty years ago now. But I want to learn. I've been practicing with the characters on TV, and I'm getting better all the time.



The Inside of a Cat

The inside of a cat looks like the wires around the back of my computer and also like pictures of cities taken from helicopters. Today was not a good day for me. She changed her phone number and I don't know if I can make rent. Even so, I don't really know why I'm doing what I'm doing. But I guess it's made me feel better. The inside of a cat looks more complicated than any problem of mine.



Positive Thinking

I believe in the power of positive thinking. That's how placebos work. You believe you're getting better, and so you do. It's pretty amazing.

I'm taking the same approach with my problem. It's all about attitude. Every minute of the day, I'm willing myself to get better. And I know I will. In a few weeks from now, I'll be climbing mountains again. I'll go running every morning, just like I used to. I can't wait.

My prosthetics consultant calls it blind optimism, but what does she know?



Blooming

Blooming since Spring, the flowers grow all wild and strong. They take over the fences, the pavements, the benches. One in particular...he's been there, since Spring. A white beard his own forest. The flowers have begun to curl around his feet.



Room With A View

In an age of TVs, computers, video games and DVDs, I think more people should unplug. Do what I do - look through a window. Honestly. You'd be surprised at the amazing things you can see. It's always interesting - and you get this magnificent sense of freedom.

I started doing it a few weeks ago, and now I can't stop. The only real drawback is that the flowerbeds make your shoes muddy. And if the neighbours see you they call the police.

free stories (1)

[Stories in mere handfuls of words.]


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Morning Heart Attack

Heart attack on a cold morning. He's on the pavement outside my house, just lying there. The ambulance comes, they load him in, and he, just conscious, nods his thanks to me and my quick 999. Several days later, there's a knock on my door. He's come to thank me personally. As it turns out, he's a skilled entrepreneur who made a small fortune on the property market. He is also a very generous man.

I imagine all this as I walk past, pretending not to notice.



Single Dad

My kid came home sobbing, and asked for a name change. Again. I knew I had to be firm.

"For God's sake Elvis. You can't come home all upset every damn day. If anyone takes the piss, hit 'em in the bleedin' nose. Grow some balls. And Jesus, stop bloody cryin'. You're embarassing yourself."

Sometimes it's hard being a single dad, but I think I've got it sorted. My daughter hates me, but Christ she'll grow up tough.



Fireworks

Fireworks, cheering, dancing. People flood the streets. He asks what's happening, but no-one replies because everyone knows.

But he doesn't. He really doesn't.

charlie fox.

I was bored at work. I began writing a story on scrap bits of till roll. It was called - and this seems pretty whimsical now - "Lucy and the Bubbly Airship". It must have been a sunny day.

Lucy's story was about a journey she undertook on, of course, an airship. She would have gone on to meet lots of interesting characters and take part in fabulous adventures.....if I'd ever gotten around to writing more than nine chapters. These were short chapters too - my writing time limited to those moments when both management and customers weren't looking. But for a while, me and Lucy were having fun.

Each chapter took me a day (/shift) to write. On the way home, I would put the story into an envelope. I wrote "Free story (please take)" on it. And then I left on this bench, in the park:


Not that my stories were anything special. It's not like I thought they'd brighten up anyone's day. I just did it because it's the sort of thing I'd like to find.

So I left them, and every time I went back, they were always gone. After nine chapters, I stopped, and that seemed like the end of Lucy. But......

It was a while later. Months, probably. I got a Facebook message. The first paragraph of text quoted chapter four of Lucy and the Bubbly Airship. I'd signed it with my name, and someone had tracked me down. He was called Charlie Fox, and he looked like this:


I'd never met a Charlie Fox. I didn't know anything about Charlie Fox. He didn't reply to my messages, his profile was brand new, and empty, seemingly made just to send me this one message. As I said, the first paragraph contained part of Lucy's story. In the rest of the message, he continued it. He wrote about her. The story he wrote is possibly the best thing I have ever read. I sent him messages back. I told him what I thought. Nothing happened.

I never heard from Charlie Fox again.

"Up on the deck you could see for miles . The floor of clouds looked soft and inviting. Once an old man saw her looking, and told her that you weren't human if you didn't want to jump in.

She held onto the rail, and leaned out as far as she could. From there, in the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a huge letter B, written on the side of the hull. That was the start of the ships name. "bringer."..."

Her whole body fraught, feeling chance through the clouds, such a unique point, she had been through the clouds before, every one of them. Not this time, this time she was transient, beyond previous lives. Life had no more lessons, she was going far from everything she knew. She held on. Other people jumped.

The captain made a crackled announcement, "#The distance between here and where we are going is getting bigger, we are almost half as far as where we were when we started, so we should arrive in sections depending on our constant ability to fluctuate.#" she wondered if the captain was on the same ship just as the next announcement came, this time clear, "~This is my maiden voyage, so I'd ask passengers to finalize themselves if they feel comfortable on board. You know who
you are so you know you should. We don't want any stowaways! I see we will run out of cloud soon, and from there, theres no turning back, we won't be going home, ever.~" Lucy knew life, and death.

She suspected the captain as one of the passengers. Everything pulsed with more color. Fresh. She, besotted beyond excitement, newer and older than she had ever been, went inside to meet the other passengers.

With a song and a color in her soul, a feeling of a question she unknowingly posed to herself asked; Had the captain realized something? Anything? And where was Bringer going?...