Folding In – Day 344 – Paper Cranes

It’s time for another story drop! Today in paper crane form. I’ve been supervising an exam all day and enjoying the feeling of having to just sit quietly and people watch for hours. It gave me this idea:

I saw a girl fold a crane out of paper. I watched her, too afraid to talk to speak. When I got home I had memorised the sequence, so I folded my own crane.

I told it how I was too nervous to talk to her and that all I could do was sit in silence and admire. I had always done this, I learnt to speak Vietnamese from watching my neighbours but never spoke to them. I learnt knitting from the old lady across the road but never said a word. I wished I had a friend who understood, I told the crane as I folded another smaller one.

The next day I found I had not 2 cranes but three. The original paper crane I had made appeared to be folding a forth. It must have been watching me yesterday, too afraid to speak, just like me.

Which I then folded into cranes and left around the city. 

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(plus one that I couldn’t take a photo of – because I looked to creepy- on a plastic life sized dog’s head in a pj shop).

Flying Eyes – Day 343 – Eye painting

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This painting has been in my house for years and it’s blurred into the background- I almost don’t see it anymore. But today I looked at it in a new light- it could be my story trigger!

The flying eyes can be deadly and watch out for their fight whistle, my mum tells me after dinner.

I ask for seconds. She gags into my beak for a while, but she can’t bring up anything. She tells me I’ll have to start collecting for the smaller ones. She can barely find enough food for me as it is. Her wing is hurt and she can’t fly far enough. I look around the nest at my unhatched siblings.

A week later my siblings emerge and I know it is time. Gliding around is wonderful, I take a dip through the clouds. As I emerge, I see an eye ahead and hear the whistling. I fly beneath the cover of clouds for a while hoping to get rid of it. A moment later the whistling gets louder and it flies straight through the cloud nearly knocking me over. It slows and begins to dig in the cloud as if it is earth revealing a nest. There are tiny eyes in it that remind me of my siblings.

They open their mouths and blow at the big ones belly, now I can see it is filled with tiny tubes that make noise when the wind passes through them. The big one unloads some food from it’s arm and the little ones eat. It looks delicious, I sigh, wishing I had some. Suddenly they all look at me. The big one speaks.

Are you hungry?

Yes

Then take some, fellow eye. There is more below in the valley, I can show you where to go.

 I’m not an eye, I’m a bird.

That whistle you made just now, it sounded like a call.

I sigh again.

That’s it. You’re a natural.

Why do you whistle? I thought it was a fight call.

Because we are blind. We find each other by the whistle our bodies make as we fly. The eye is just there to keep predators away.

She shows me the best place for food and my family is never hungry again.

The Thieves and the Scroll – Day 342 – The Last Month!

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If you remember this– from start of my challenge gold star! It’s been sitting in my house for 288 days now, shrivelling up. Today – because it is the last month of the challenge – I decided to return the seed pod to where it came from.

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It then gave me this idea.

The oldest scroll in the public Book House has been stolen over 340 times. It’s huge, heavy and worth millions. They say the Book House has a fierce spirit that searches for the scroll and brings the thief to justice.

Han thinks this is a tale made up to stop the book being stolen. A Book House can’t have a spirit. One day takes the scroll. His plan is to sell it, but he figures he may as well read it before getting the money. It is a disjointed story of kings, slaves, monks, cooks and children, the writing styles are all different and there is no main plot. He decides it would be funny to add his own story into it before he sells it.

He writes all night. He’d almost stamped out the memories of being left on the street or being beaten by the baker where he used to work. In the morning as he heads to the market to sell it to a private book House, he finds himself walking straight back to the Book House. He’s very attached to the book now, he wants other people to understand him, laugh at his jokes, feel his grief and know why he steals.

As he puts the scroll back on the shelf of the House, he understands. The Book House does not have a spirit. These tales are just everyday people who want to be understood. That is why the book always returns, to be read.

Sleeping Revolt – Day 341 – Sleepy Writing

Today I am exhausted and fell asleep several times trying to write this.

The people were placid as they followed the chief’s horrific orders. They cleared, jailed and killed those in their path without a fight. Every time they thought about leaving, their eyelids drooped, their minds dulled and they fell into a deep sleep. The slumbering were carried as they moved through villages.

One young girl in particular was almost always being carried. She was rarely awake for more than a day. Her body was wasted away but her mind was strong. She had been training for years. Every time she woke, she would think about leaving, trying to beat her record of conciousness.

When the chief finally asked her to kill for the first time, she ran away from camp, just managing to keep her eyes open. He found her in a nearby forest and tortured her. She slept through the entire thing and so did the people. They took her example and there was a mass sleep. The chief watched their unconscious bodies wither from thirst and hunger.

But before they starved, their minds grew strong. Together they shook off the chief’s spell. Now he is imprisoned by the people, his eyes dry and his mind buzzing, never able to sleep again.

Racing to the Boat – Day 340 – Island Boat

Foot to the floor we sped toward the ramp. The car became airborn. Camping gear jumbled around as the ferry ramp began to close. But the tyres hit the floor of the deck just in time. We smashed into the cars parked in front. Car alarms rent the air and my toothbrush slid under the car in front. I picked it up as I got out and like Indiana Jones picking up his hat, I put it in my mouth proudly before exchanging insurance details with the other car owners.

I’ve been staying on an island and today we nearly missed the boat back home. It was a mad drive to the barge which we just made before they left. It was like an Indiana Jones scene – I kept thinking about what would have happened if you tried moves like his in real life. 

Air Turtle – Day 339 – Kris/Island Vibe

I was sitting under this for shade today and met the man Kris who helped make it. He made it with a large community group out of basket weaving and bark.20141101_135857

The air turtle patrolled their community. It would ask the sun to shine for them, though it wasn’t hard, the sun is a bit of a show off. And it would convince the grumpy clouds to rain when they needed it most.
One day the clouds were feeling very bloated. The hail they were carrying felt heavy and uncomfortable. They threatened to unleash it on the community but the air turtle pleaded with them. The small bark huts might not withstand it. But the clouds couldn’t hold on any longer.
The turtle flew underneath the clouds and let the hail shatter on it’s back to save them.
When the clouds had cleared the community was safe but the air turtle landed with a thud. Its shell had been broken.
The community cried for weeks tending to the turtle’s every need but they could not repair the shell. Until one day the old basket weaver had an idea.
The turtle roams the sky once more clad in an intricate basket weave and the clouds even apologised.