The Plot Thickens . . .
~ I am the words you’re reading—my name is Story and I’m in a bind…
It feels like I’m on an island with just enough space to walk in a small circle.
All directions seem the same…
In fact, there are too many directions I can take—one huge swarm of ways to proceed, each buzzing in my ear, each promising—something…
Then there are the things below the tiny hut I have—scritching around, gnawing at my nerves…
I think I’ll take a swim.
But…
Those fish seem so big…
Can’t just stand here—can’t not move forward………
Damn !
I’ll die if I don’t do something !!
O.K., o.k., calm down.
There’s water, sand…
Wood ! The hut !
Tear it down with my bare hands !?
~~~
Hours later I lay on the sand, a heap of exhaustion with a pile of wood next to me.
Nails but no hammer…
No rope…
What’s that?
Crawling up out of the sand where the hut was…
Like a rat—two now, three…
I grab the largest board in the stack and start whacking away, killing ten of whatever the hell they are.
Long with large, horny heads…
They seem to be stiffening up, losing their hair—look almost like a bunch of organic hammers…
Damn !
~~~
Didn’t take that long to get the nails out of the boards with my horrific little hammers but each of the ten only lasted a short while—they’re all smashed to pulp, stinking something awful…
Wait——what? More sand?
Looks like my little island has grown into a narrow peninsula.
But peninsulas connect to larger landmasses…
Don’t see any such thing.
~~~
After a longer walk than I first thought it would take, I find the mainland… Need a nap…
~~~
I wake in the middle of the night.
No moon.
Plenty of weird sounds…
Is that a light over there?
Pulsing…
I head towards it and the frequency seems to begin matching the pace of my walking.
I walk faster.
The light pulses faster.
I reach the light and it engulfs me—my mind churns, my skin crawls…
I pass out.
~~~
Daylight.
I’m lying on the grass at the edge of a small village.
Someone’s approaching…
Man in a business suit !?
I sit up as he reaches me.
He says, “What are you doing here?”
“I don’t know…”
“What’s your name?”
“Story…”
“You sure?”
“Yes—why?”
“That’s my name, too…”
~~~
We talk for hours and finally come to a decision—-find our greatly confused author…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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Notes from An Alien 
Nice….story (not to be confusing). I wasn’t sure where it was going. :-)
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Hell, neither did Mr. Story :-)
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a sort of mind walk, Alexander, which also held you , for wanting to know more keeps you reading. … and by reading you learn…that the story, meets another story and then goes on a search… :-D xx
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Yes, Pen, on a search for Me :-)
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and did they find you?
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Shhhh… I’m trying to hide from them…
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I loved this – so surreal and unusual, so dreamlike, so self reflexive, a wonderful metafiction. It reminded me of the play, ‘Six Characters in Search of An Author’ by the Italian dramatist, Luigi Pirandello. Loved ‘scritched’. But what I want to know is – what will you do when these characters find you? Invite them in for coffee? (and btw, why is Story no.2 wearing a business suit?)
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Thank you, Jane, for your expressive feelings about the piece & your reference to Pirandello!
Do when (if) they find me?
Why a business suit?
Hmmm…
Mr. Story does say the author is greatly confused :-)
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