Skip to main content

The story so far…

This is a text- heavy post.

Recently, I've been using my Facebook status for some storytelling, after a sleepless night yielded a good beginning for a tale. There is no real aim to this, except for the fun of writing status-length paragraphs.So, to recap, here is what has happened in this, yet unnamed, story to date:

"…it might just turn out to be one of those days…" he thought disjointedly, as he watched the night melt into the morning, assisted by the chirping of too many birds. The light was dirty gray, the suns' rays stopped by a thick layer of rain clouds. He downed the last shot in the bottle and stared out of the window in disgust. "A new day… feels the same as the last new day…"

At ten, the buzzer rang. A voice somehow made it clear it was attached to someone who wanted to wanted to offer him work. He had not worked since the Siddiq Case. He also realised he was surprised to find that someone would dare to hire him after all the controversy that had brought… the DA must still be fuming at the incedents of that night…

A knock on his dirty office window brought him away from his thoughts. He could see a trenchcoat, and a head of flowing hair in silhouette. It was jaw-droppingly, luciously obvious his visitor was going to be, mildly put, female. "May I come in Mr. —?" Her voice made his brain tingle, a more than pleasant sensation. The intercom had not done her justice.

"Just a minute." He said more calmly than he felt. Looking around, he noticed the piles littering his office. On his way to the door, he threw the most obviouse ones between the door and the desk into the Dark Corner. He would have to clean that out someday… but knew he would't like what he would find.

Confident that his mess was elegantly concealed in the shadows of his office, he stepped towards the door. He saw his face reflected off one of the dusty window panes. If he smelt the way he looked, he was not the impressive sight he was hoping for. He took a deep breath, made a last attempt at taming his hair and opened the door. "Come in, Lady. It may not be much, but make yourself at home."

She stepped in, her hair flowing in the flow of the trenchcoats flaps, a perfume trailing behind her, taking his nostrils by surprise, filling them with scents he did not know he appreciated. Quite unlike himself, he offered her the hard chair and took her coat. "May I get you a drink, Miss…?" "I would appreciate coffee, if you could manage…" She reclined on the chair, pulling out a monogrammed cigarette case.

She lit herself a cigarette, watching him fumble his way through to the kitchen. "May I?" Glad to hide his face behind something, he got a smoke from the kitchen. He put the kettle on to boil and jined her. She was standing in front of the window, the sun lighting her face through the small hole she had made in the dirt to watch the street through. She was gorgeous, of course. What had he expected?

There is more to come, as this is an ongoing idea, and I will post it as it comes. Maybe at some point, we will end up with a fully- fledged story.


Popular posts from this blog

Two minutes: Addiction is Life is Yellow.

Addiction is a much-maligned, muddy word. Until (ca.) the 18th century, it connoted tendency and drive, rather than (self-) affliction. Opium changed that- reportedly. 
Lives described as addiction: to the approval and company of peers, to power and its accumulation, to enjoyment and personal satisfaction (to some people, this may be suffering) and to basics such as air, food, water… and possibly even living. When framed this way, and defined in reference to this word, life suddenly becomes a selfish pursuit in which the living will do anything to get their fix, devoted addicts all. 
On that note: Marylin Manson - I Don't Like the Drugs, But the Drugs Like Me. 
Also: Addiction is apparently yellow. 

A grain of rice can save the world…

…with a bit of help from all its other grains of rice friends.
Not being able to do decent research into nutrition forced me to get a bit creative with this one. And do actual maths. Thanks to Ugur & Silke for their help in this.
Extra Info: this is what a single grain of rice looks like close up:

from AMagill on flickr
I wonder if a series of single grain infographics would be would be interesting?

Two minutes: Enemy of the tribe

There was, once upon a time, a small tribe that lived in a deep jungle. They were migrant farmers, traveling from cultivation spot to cultivation spot, depending on the season and their fancy. In their absence, these spots were often used by other tribes, with the understanding that they would set aside small amount of their harvest. This symbiosis benefited all involved, keeping the soil fresh and turned, providing sustenance for the inhabitants of the jungle 
Their traditions compelled them to hospitality and friendliness toward visitors- their words for strangers and visitors translated into "friends-who-are-not-yet-friends" and "visitors-and-we-are-their-friend". If they didn't like someone, they would become "Friend-that-is-not-talked-to", usually adding "until we talk again", implying that ire was temporary and a return to friendship imminent. 
One day, they were visited by a random anthropologist. Fascinated by the vocabulary their w…