A man I met in a shop told me to write about a Yowie.
People do not understand Yowies. Yowies are protectors of the forest. Only one is born every 50 years. They are created by the biggest tree in the forest, and they live for an awfully long time. They must be trained by the plants and the animals before they can begin their job. They are as strong as a trunk, as loyal as roots, and have the natural instincts of all the animals in the forest.
Yowies are sent by the forest to pick up on the vibe of anyone who comes in. If they are friendly, the Yowie will report back to the big tree and she will send word through the root systems to protect that person. But if they are hostile, it is the Yowie’s job to scare them away. They get in the background of photos, make strange noises and sometimes grab at people’s feet.
Remember Jon? One of my mentors from earlier in the year (read here). We met up again today to talk about how I might survive the real world after locking myself away in the special world of the 365 Day Challenge. We basically concluded that I can just keep making more special worlds. I like this.
He suggested today’s story be about swallows, because he saw one fly off at the end of our meeting.
The two swallows had always sat patiently on my collarbones. I got them because they were a symbol of freedom and travel. Barn swallows travel all the way from England to South Africa every year. It almost felt cruel that they were trapped, forever sedentary on my skin.
One day I woke up to find them gone. I was disturbed but even more disturbed when my housemate burst into my room screaming that two swallows had appeared on her back overnight.
I couldn’t convince her that it wasn’t a prank I had pulled. I asked to have another look, they might suit her. But when she lifted her shirt they were gone.
We ran out onto the street and saw an old lady with swallows on her ankles, and a small child with swallows on his rosy cheeks. I smiled, they had found a way to free themselves and do what they knew best. The next week the news was filled with reports of swallow tattoos appearing on people all over South Africa.
She lives off the kindling of ideas and the spark of connection between minds. She wouldn’t exist without the people who kindly give her fragments of their brain. She is very grateful and wants to thank everyone. So she decides to burn in all different colours and she puffs embers into the atmosphere like tiny stars, hoping this is enough to thank everyone for not letting her extinguish.
A small story to say thanks to you and the next stories are going to be fun and varied. If you have any ideas for more creative ways of doing stories please tell me. I’m thinking more random story drops and stories hanging from trees…
I got the word “creep” in pictionary. This is what I drew:
Jules cannot walk. He only creeps. It’s not his fault. He was born with that walk, the drooling and glasses are his own choice. He decided he would accentuate what nature gave him.
Today I built some of my favourite characters… Avatar Aang and Appa (and Momo too)…
I’ve always liked the idea of having a giant creature follow me round as a friend/helper.
We live on the swamp because we were driven out of our hometown by war. It’s hard to get around on the swamp, it can be sticky and slow. We used to envy the Nuzzler’s who flew above us only stopping to graze on the plants that broke to the surface. Nuzzlers are as old as the swamp and they are wise.
When I was born my parents left me out in the swamp to sink, they couldn’t feed another child. But a Nuzzler flew down from the sky and pushed me out of the swamp with her nose. We never left each other’s side after that. She would fly me to the greenest bits of the swamp to get food for my family. And now everyone leaves their babes in the swamp.
It has become the choosing ceremony. Nuzzler’s never let a babe die. No one goes anywhere without a Nuzzler. We are bonded forever.
Today I am thanking Sean- another mentor to me this year.
She’d built a huge pile of words. They were a good pile of words, but she wasn’t sure exactly what to do with them. One day the word architect visited. He chiselled off a word here and there.
She watched apprehensively, he didn’t rearrange much. But when he’d finished, she realised the word pile now had turrets and a door she’d never noticed before.
This story is for Geoff (one of my mentors for this project) to say thanks for all the help. He is always talking about “knowing one’s self” so I am running with that idea.
We’re kept apart as much as possible when we are small. We are told that we must know ourselves before we can understand others. The big ones tell us it is so we can be our unique selves. Not be tainted by others.
I try to know myself. I try different foods, different hobbies, different readings. I still feel there is something missing. They tell me I am not ready, I don’t know myself. I feel alone. I wonder if I am the only one who feels like this.
One day I see some other small ones from next door. I try to talk to them but a big one leads me away. That night I sneak out and find the other small ones. We talk into the morning. They are lonely too.
I try food I’ve never heard of, hear thoughts I don’t agree with and play games. I feel better.
At first the big ones are angry with us, but then one looks at me closely.
“He’s ready, they helped him,” says the big one.
Small ones are encouraged to interact now.