Lead With Good News

"Soooo, good news-"

"What's the bad news?"

"What?"

"Not a single person starts a sentence about solely good news with that many Os in it. So whatever the bad news is, tell me now, the good can wait."

"Fine, we're heading towards a waterfall."

"YEAH, LEAD WITH THAT FIRST!"

He threw a backhand at me and before I could form a reply he began to paddle furiously, bringing the canoe to the shoreline before breaking it in accidently on rocks.

"OK. Good news?"

"Oh, that I know where we are, and after heading down an easily traversed waterfall we'll arrive."

Kept In Business

I got off my skeleton steed and walked into the printing guild building. I was taken aback when I stepped in, when I was here to place my order for death certificate blanks, there had been two printers printing. Now the room was full of hard working guildmembers, all slaving over their machines.

"Ah, Sir, here!"

One of the clerks called me over, the stack of paper in his hand.

"Rather busy! What, another God change their mind about something?"

"Oh no Sir, a new race has been discovered in the west, so the Legal Drinking Age manuals need updating!"

Stranded Survival

After a few weeks on the island, I'd gotten into something resembling a groove. The giant 'HELP' in stones on the beach was pretty solid, the clear plastic sheet was serving well as a water purifier, and I had a cave to sleep in.

So I could spend my time working on the story I'd have to tell. That the other guy was badly injured from the wreck, he died early on, and gave permission for me to... survive.

I just hoped that the guy I'd eaten and replaced actually had someone else with him on whatever he came from.

Souled

I didn't expect to die, but I really didn't expect to wake up again.

My ability to think through the implications of what this meant for the concept of a soul was limited as I tried to communicate with the obviously medical staff that had awoken me. But when it became clear that they weren't how I remembered humans looking, I refocused and after a few years, we'd reached enough of an understanding that they finally brought me to the ancient (to them) items they needed to understand that they'd brought me back to explain.

"So they're called 'Crocs', see..."

Smoking Jacket

Dr Crazino had his hand over the button that would launch all the nukes that he'd hacked control of, and would use to punish the world.

But he was waiting. He knew Agent Grey was in his base, and wasn't-

"Master!"

Two guards ran in with a smoking jacket between them. That is, a jacket that was on fire, smoking.

"We pulled this out of the incinerator! He must be dead!"

As Dr Crazino yelled and ordered a full base sweep, Agent Grey had already left, reporting he'd bought them 24 hours, and submitting a claim for a new jacket.

Picking Sides

On the car ride home, she was silent for the first few miles before she spoke her mind.

"Why are you different around them?"

"Around who... My friends?"

"Just these friends. Every other time we go out, you're so withdrawn and quiet, but around these guys, and only these guys, you're so talkative."

"I mean... I've known them for years?"

"As opposed to your family?"

"Why is it important?"

"I'm just trying to work out which is the real you."

"Both! Just because I'm different in different situations doesn't make me fake, just multidimensional."

"Show this side more, please."

"No." 

Opening Up

There comes a time when an artist, if you stretch that term to include what I'm doing here, and not just idea laundering for my own sanity, has to begin to get truly honest, raw, and vulnerable.

A time when the artist has to open up and explore something deeply personal about themselves through their art, to tell the world uncomfortable facts to work out their own truth.

And sure, I can always hide behind characters and fantasy situations, but in the end, I gotta open up, truly.

And I will.

In a few drabbles time, probably.

Maybe.

Yeah, maybe...