Storytime!
Sep. 16th, 2005 07:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pipistrellafelixThe consequence of sitting at the front desk during a play here is that everyone assumes I'm the box office manager, which means I've gotten very used to pointing and saying, "the box office is that way." A group of people came in, one of whom knew I was not the ticket person, and pulled his friend back just as he was approching me with a joking, "don't talk to her! Tickets are over there," to which his friend replied, "I was going to ask her on a date. (To me) What are you doing later this evening?"
Ahahaha...I love this job. (I do wish I didn't have it tonight though...I wanted to stay at Anneka's! *wail*)
And some writing: the opening bit and the first scene to something I began in senior year, and just added to now. I'm fond of it; I wish I could figure out what was going on, so I could write more. Although I think maybe I just have--Henry has marched in and taken over, apparently.
I found early on that if I clutched something in my arms it would travel with me. I learned this only after losing half a loaf of bread the first night—-bread I could have gladly eaten the next day. Instead, I traded a bracelet of glass beads for food, in a village of people that spoke a language something like Spanish—close enough that I could get by.
The next language I encountered was completely incomprehensible—-I pretended to be deaf and dumb, and managed to get a few scraps of food by holding out my hands and smiling pitifully. It was, I suppose, lucky that I had slept on the ground and hadn’t washed in two days—-I looked like any beggar, my unusual clothes covered by a layer of dust, my hair tangled and dirty, a line of dirt beneath my fingernails.
I had my first real conversation in a big city that spoke a language similar enough to English that I could understand, though the grammar was backwards to me. I talked to a girl about my own age, who was minding a stall of fabrics in an open market. I told her the truth when she asked where I was from, but although she smiled, I don’t think she believed me.
“Aeroplanes?” she said when I described them. “No exist they don’t. Balloons have you?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
“To fly?” she said. “There look—-” She pointed up and showed me a red and blue balloon, a long and thin one, with a large propeller on the back.
I’d forgotten, but remembered as she closed the stall and left, that there was no way I could strike up a friendship with this girl, or anyone. I had figured out, even by the third change, that by the next day I would be gone.
It had become so that thinking “where am I?” as I woke up had passed beyond cliché into a priori assumption.
So it was more than a little surprising to find that when I opened one eye that morning, I recognized the tree root I’d seen the night before. My head snapped up, narrowly missing an equally familiar branch, and someone behind me spoke.
“You’re awake,” he said. “Good.”
I scrambled up to a more or less sitting position, dropping the bag that I’d had in my arms, and looked at him. He was only slightly more familiar than the tree, as I’d known him for a few minutes longer. “I’m awake,” I repeated slowly, my brain still catching up to my senses. “And I’m here.”
He looked a little bewildered. “Well,” he said slowly, “you fell asleep here.”
“Yes,” I said, more awake—-and more nervous every moment-—“but I’m not used to waking up in the same place I went to sleep.” I peered around the clearing again, although I knew quite firmly that I hadn’t gone anywhere. “I find this strange. And more than a little disturbing.”
Evidently, to judge by his expression, so did he. “You don’t wake up in where you go to sleep?” he asked, forgoing grammar in favor of confusion.
“No. I haven’t for years.” I knocked my fist on the tree root, and got a radiating pain in my fingers for my trouble. It was real all right—real as anything else. “Every single time I wake up I’m someplace new,” I explained, watching his face as he tried to understand. “Which is why staying the same is…just a little weird. I’m not used to it, see?”
“You’re under a curse,” he said, his expression of doubt clearing. “Strange curse. What wizard did you offend?”
“I’m not under a curse,” I said, though it occurred to me even as I said so that it was a remarkably convenient excuse. “Not one that I’m aware of, anyway. And I didn’t offend any wizards. We don’t have wizards in my world.”
He blinked. “Your world? I thought you meant you traveled around in…” his voice trailed off. “That’s some curse.”
“It isn’t…nevermind,” I said. I stood up and looked around the forest, which, although it looked different than it had at night, was unmistakably the same forest.
“You’re going to break the curse, aren’t you?” the boy asked, scrambling up and reaching for the lowest branch of the tree. “It can’t be that hard. Everyone in legends does it all the time,” he added confidently, and began to swing off the branch, kicking a leg up and over it.
I turned around to get a better look at him. He was a few years younger than myself—-eleven, maybe, or twelve—-and was, as far as I could tell, a perfectly normal child. This world was one of the closest to my own that I’d seen—albeit somewhat old-fashioned. The boy was wearing short pants, white stockings and shirt, and a brown vest and shoes; the outfit looked vaguely Victorian. “Do your parents know you’re out?” I asked, suddenly realizing that I had no idea who this kid was. I didn’t usually have to care, but if I was stuck here….
“I’m running away,” he announced, the gravity of it somewhat diminished by the fact that his face was turning red from hanging upside down. “I’m seeking my fortune.”
“Um,” I said. “I think you should probably go home.”
He flipped back down to the ground. “No I shouldn’t. I’m Henry. You never told me your name when we met.”
“Well, I thought I would be gone. I’m Sophie.”
“Good. Let’s go.”
“Go?” I asked. “Where?” I picked up my bag and turned to face the village I’d spent most of yesterday in. “Back there? They probably have food.”
“So do I, and you said last night you did too,” Henry pointed out. “We’re going that way.” He pointed in the opposite direction.
“You’re going home,” I told him, “which I assume is back there, and I’m going…I don’t know where I’m going, but I’m not going to wander into the middle of a forest I don’t know anything about.”
Henry grabbed my hand, and pulled. “I know all about it,” he told me. “Come on. It isn’t a forest, it’s really small. And I’m not going home, I’m going to seek my fortune.”
“You can go seek your fortune where your parents can keep track of you,” I said, untangling myself from his grasp. I couldn’t remember if anyone had seen me with Henry last night, but I didn’t want to be labeled a kidnapper.
“I don’t have parents,” Henry said. “I live with my uncle, and I’m not the heir, and I’m not useful, so I’m running away. It won’t be your fault,” he added. “I do it all the time, only this time it’s for real. I was just getting them used to the idea, before I left for good.”
“You’ve got it all planned, I see,” I said. I looked back toward the village. It had been a pleasant enough place, but I had no need to stay; and for all I knew, I was going to disappear that night anyway. “Oh, all right, let’s go.”
“Hurray!” Henry yelled, grabbing my hand again and pulling me deeper into the forest. “Come on, Sophie! We’re going to break your curse!”
Oh, dear, I thought.
Ahahaha...I love this job. (I do wish I didn't have it tonight though...I wanted to stay at Anneka's! *wail*)
And some writing: the opening bit and the first scene to something I began in senior year, and just added to now. I'm fond of it; I wish I could figure out what was going on, so I could write more. Although I think maybe I just have--Henry has marched in and taken over, apparently.
I found early on that if I clutched something in my arms it would travel with me. I learned this only after losing half a loaf of bread the first night—-bread I could have gladly eaten the next day. Instead, I traded a bracelet of glass beads for food, in a village of people that spoke a language something like Spanish—close enough that I could get by.
The next language I encountered was completely incomprehensible—-I pretended to be deaf and dumb, and managed to get a few scraps of food by holding out my hands and smiling pitifully. It was, I suppose, lucky that I had slept on the ground and hadn’t washed in two days—-I looked like any beggar, my unusual clothes covered by a layer of dust, my hair tangled and dirty, a line of dirt beneath my fingernails.
I had my first real conversation in a big city that spoke a language similar enough to English that I could understand, though the grammar was backwards to me. I talked to a girl about my own age, who was minding a stall of fabrics in an open market. I told her the truth when she asked where I was from, but although she smiled, I don’t think she believed me.
“Aeroplanes?” she said when I described them. “No exist they don’t. Balloons have you?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
“To fly?” she said. “There look—-” She pointed up and showed me a red and blue balloon, a long and thin one, with a large propeller on the back.
I’d forgotten, but remembered as she closed the stall and left, that there was no way I could strike up a friendship with this girl, or anyone. I had figured out, even by the third change, that by the next day I would be gone.
It had become so that thinking “where am I?” as I woke up had passed beyond cliché into a priori assumption.
So it was more than a little surprising to find that when I opened one eye that morning, I recognized the tree root I’d seen the night before. My head snapped up, narrowly missing an equally familiar branch, and someone behind me spoke.
“You’re awake,” he said. “Good.”
I scrambled up to a more or less sitting position, dropping the bag that I’d had in my arms, and looked at him. He was only slightly more familiar than the tree, as I’d known him for a few minutes longer. “I’m awake,” I repeated slowly, my brain still catching up to my senses. “And I’m here.”
He looked a little bewildered. “Well,” he said slowly, “you fell asleep here.”
“Yes,” I said, more awake—-and more nervous every moment-—“but I’m not used to waking up in the same place I went to sleep.” I peered around the clearing again, although I knew quite firmly that I hadn’t gone anywhere. “I find this strange. And more than a little disturbing.”
Evidently, to judge by his expression, so did he. “You don’t wake up in where you go to sleep?” he asked, forgoing grammar in favor of confusion.
“No. I haven’t for years.” I knocked my fist on the tree root, and got a radiating pain in my fingers for my trouble. It was real all right—real as anything else. “Every single time I wake up I’m someplace new,” I explained, watching his face as he tried to understand. “Which is why staying the same is…just a little weird. I’m not used to it, see?”
“You’re under a curse,” he said, his expression of doubt clearing. “Strange curse. What wizard did you offend?”
“I’m not under a curse,” I said, though it occurred to me even as I said so that it was a remarkably convenient excuse. “Not one that I’m aware of, anyway. And I didn’t offend any wizards. We don’t have wizards in my world.”
He blinked. “Your world? I thought you meant you traveled around in…” his voice trailed off. “That’s some curse.”
“It isn’t…nevermind,” I said. I stood up and looked around the forest, which, although it looked different than it had at night, was unmistakably the same forest.
“You’re going to break the curse, aren’t you?” the boy asked, scrambling up and reaching for the lowest branch of the tree. “It can’t be that hard. Everyone in legends does it all the time,” he added confidently, and began to swing off the branch, kicking a leg up and over it.
I turned around to get a better look at him. He was a few years younger than myself—-eleven, maybe, or twelve—-and was, as far as I could tell, a perfectly normal child. This world was one of the closest to my own that I’d seen—albeit somewhat old-fashioned. The boy was wearing short pants, white stockings and shirt, and a brown vest and shoes; the outfit looked vaguely Victorian. “Do your parents know you’re out?” I asked, suddenly realizing that I had no idea who this kid was. I didn’t usually have to care, but if I was stuck here….
“I’m running away,” he announced, the gravity of it somewhat diminished by the fact that his face was turning red from hanging upside down. “I’m seeking my fortune.”
“Um,” I said. “I think you should probably go home.”
He flipped back down to the ground. “No I shouldn’t. I’m Henry. You never told me your name when we met.”
“Well, I thought I would be gone. I’m Sophie.”
“Good. Let’s go.”
“Go?” I asked. “Where?” I picked up my bag and turned to face the village I’d spent most of yesterday in. “Back there? They probably have food.”
“So do I, and you said last night you did too,” Henry pointed out. “We’re going that way.” He pointed in the opposite direction.
“You’re going home,” I told him, “which I assume is back there, and I’m going…I don’t know where I’m going, but I’m not going to wander into the middle of a forest I don’t know anything about.”
Henry grabbed my hand, and pulled. “I know all about it,” he told me. “Come on. It isn’t a forest, it’s really small. And I’m not going home, I’m going to seek my fortune.”
“You can go seek your fortune where your parents can keep track of you,” I said, untangling myself from his grasp. I couldn’t remember if anyone had seen me with Henry last night, but I didn’t want to be labeled a kidnapper.
“I don’t have parents,” Henry said. “I live with my uncle, and I’m not the heir, and I’m not useful, so I’m running away. It won’t be your fault,” he added. “I do it all the time, only this time it’s for real. I was just getting them used to the idea, before I left for good.”
“You’ve got it all planned, I see,” I said. I looked back toward the village. It had been a pleasant enough place, but I had no need to stay; and for all I knew, I was going to disappear that night anyway. “Oh, all right, let’s go.”
“Hurray!” Henry yelled, grabbing my hand again and pulling me deeper into the forest. “Come on, Sophie! We’re going to break your curse!”
Oh, dear, I thought.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2005-09-17 07:56 am (UTC)"It can’t be that hard. Everyone in legends does it all the time."
I found that statement wonderfully endearing! Cute little boy. I can never get the hang of writing them.
I'm a bit envious of your skill to simply wonder into a story and set up an interesting plot in a few sentences.
Please continue?
no subject
Date: 2005-09-17 07:52 pm (UTC)Oh, I will...I want to work on this one. I like it a lot.
no subject
Date: 2005-09-17 05:08 pm (UTC)Especially
"“You don’t wake up in where you go to sleep?” he asked, forgoing grammar in favor of confusion."
That's brilliant. Keep writing this one, I want to see what happens.
no subject
Date: 2005-09-17 07:54 pm (UTC)I will! ....so do I.
no subject
Date: 2005-09-17 05:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-17 07:54 pm (UTC)I must obey The Kayla!
no subject
Date: 2005-09-17 07:00 pm (UTC)Keep going!! I want to read more! MORE!
no subject
Date: 2005-09-17 07:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-17 09:34 pm (UTC)That's right, romp.
no subject
Date: 2005-09-18 01:26 am (UTC)Thanks. :)
no subject
Date: 2005-09-18 08:16 pm (UTC)I finally read it, since I had more than 20 seconds on a computer at a stretch.
no subject
Date: 2005-09-18 10:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-21 05:28 am (UTC)Which I love, btw.
no subject
Date: 2005-09-21 06:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-21 06:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-21 10:20 pm (UTC)