The Oldest Story

A ringing bell, elsewhere in the house. Never seems to be at the same time of day. Or night. I've chased it deeper and deeper. 

Some music has lyrics we don't understand until it's too late. 

I don't have time for that kind of music. 

who took the sun

This is a draft, I think. Some story idea, or a fragment of something already written,  temporarily separated from the pack. 

Through the haze comes enough light for lichen and moss. The whole world in the crepuscular zone. Everywhere though, there is no nightfall. 

How

The only way for that to work... The world would have to be a hollow sphere around a star, like a Dyson sphere. Would that work? With gravity and all that, because the star would pull them toward the center. The sphere could spin. But no, it wouldn't be uniform. Centrifugal force acting as gravity would push everything to the "equator", I think, so a person walking towards the north or south "poles" would start to get pulled backwards, headfirst. 

I think. 

I'm at the point where I'm not sure I know what I'm imagining. 

No wonder these types of stories always have some kind of artificial gravity generator. Who needs physics when you've for science magic. 

Seven hours

Seven hours and 34 minutes until I get up tomorrow morning to take Ender to work. We have been practicing parallel parking, the section he failed on his driving test last week. He did mostly keep pretty well, although the recycling bin might have some complaints. 

My father wanted to teach him by finding parking spots in the wild. Fortunately they didn't find any during their attempt. I measured out an area of about 20 feet and placed the garbage bin and the recycling bin at each end, sticking out into the street about as far as a car might. (One of the advantages of living in this neighborhood; nobody really cares and they're mostly used to our shenanigans.)

Ender was able to park successfully most of the time. One time he got too excited and backed up far enough to hit the back trash can, but it's big and plastic and it was fine. Didn't even fall over. 

I think he has a decent shot at passing. The strategy is to undershoot it a little and then wiggling into place. He has gotten it perfectly lined up several times, but I think if you hit the curb it's an automatic fail. 

We'll see. I won't mind terribly if he doesn't pass for another week (I think) because I do enjoy talking to him about stuff in the morning. 

He doesn't seem bored of me, which is nice. I think he will be much happier when he's a little more independent. And heck, he'll be able to sleep an extra 45 minutes. I work in the exact opposite direction so I have to take him much earlier than he needs to be there. 

Seven hours and 19 minutes. 

The Temporary Strand

Passing shipwrecks on my way to work. The salty smell of the sea lingers as I take my seat and boot up my computer. I live in a desert valley, and I should not be carefully maneuvering my car around sunken ships and wringing brine from my coat. 

A garden of seaweed is growing up from the rocks of my xeriscaped yard. It sways as if underwater, independent of the breeze. 

The sky begins to shimmer. A glittering skin above me, as if I'm underwater. 

Maybe it will be gone tomorrow. 

Alone, not listless

It occurs to me that I've never lived alone before. Took me a few weeks to realize. Sometimes I'm a little slow to figure things out. 

I will have a roommate, eventually. For the moment, it's just me and the mutts. 

I don't...feel alone. Probably having the dogs helps.

I do like having an idea of how I want things and just...putting them that way. 

I haven't changed too much yet. I've got some ideas about custom bookshelves. I spent a few hours setting up my writing desk. It's a legit letter-writing desk. It's not great as a computer desk but that's what it is now; get with the times, desk. My handwriting is terrible anyway. 

I'm not writing at the desk now. Because that would make sense and well, that's just not where we're at right now. 

Probably the reason I don't feel too different is because most of my family is still on this block. I should go visit my younger brother. Yell at him for not selling me his Toyota 4Runner. 

It's for the best. I'm happy with my hybrid. I forget that I always wanted a hybrid. It seems strange that I finally have one. Maybe I should go up North and visit friends. Flagstaff is probably not too cold, yet. 

I don't like the cold very much. Well, it's not my preference. 

Most of the ocean is cold, I think. 

Not so hot

It's not so hot today. The temperature dipped below 80 degrees and I put on a long-sleeved shirt. Maroon. And grey pants. Boots. Clomped down the avenue.

The house is so quiet without Bun. I never considered her the loud one. Maybe it's because she was always up to something. It was a different kind of quiet. 

I plugged in a dusty old bluetooth speaker and I've been playing music. I'm sure there's some ambient background animal sounds I could run continuously, but we're not there yet. Music is fine. 

There's a hook on the wall. I should hang a picture on it. What's the last thing I want to see before I fall asleep? An octopus wearing a top hat? An owl perched on a typewriter? A raccoon raiding a dumpster? A deep-sea diver in an old brass diving suit leaking glowing fluid from his helmet? 

I've got some odd pictures. 

I'll leave it for now. 

Bun-Bun

Bernadette L. Dog, better known as Bun-Bun, always stood out from the crowd. Last night, despite the valiant efforts of her surgical team and a 3-hour operation in the morning, she was unable to recover. She died peacefully in her sleep in the evening. Bun was the reason we had to have child-proof door latches, and couldn't leave socks on the floor. Well, it looks like she just broke into dog heaven and she's eating the socks of the angels now. I hope they're prepared for her epic side-eye when she's had enough of your nonsense. Goodnight sweet pup. 

She is survived by her biological sister, Mabel, who has requested treats in lieu of flowers.