The Stars Talk – Day 200 – Shugo Tokumaru

Matt sent me Shugo Tokumaru’s Lahaha:

The xylophone reminds me of twinkling stars and I really like the whistle too. So here’s what I got:

Stars talk, you just have to know the tunes they like. Jasper spent many years alone in his tower trying every instrument, every tune, every complex composition. The tower was so tall it scraped the clouds and tickled the stars. But still the stars never replied. So Jasper gave up. He sold the tower and all his instruments, and packed up his things. Before he left he cleaned the tower windows, and whistled. It was just a simple nursery rhyme he’d heard a child whistle once, but suddenly Jasper heard a voice that sounded like embers fizzing and fire cracking.

“Did you hear that?” said a star peering through a cloud into the window.

“Oh I love this one,” said another star blowing the cloud out of the way.

“This one’s big and hairy,” said the first star.

“Wait, this is the song you like?” Jasper asked feeling his beard subconsciously.

“Yeah, we didn’t think the big ones knew how to do it.”

“Usually only the small ones do it,” added the second star, “we like the small ones best. They believe in our wishing powers and make us feel special. But I suppose you seem alright.”

“Would you like a wish on us then?” asked the first star.

“I wish I didn’t sell my tower,” said Jasper.

“Well, we can’t actually grant wishes. But we like when the little ones wish on us, gives us a good ego boost. You’re welcome to live on the clouds though, they’re pretty hospitable.”

The Prison of Kyle Sandilands – Day 184 – My thesis woes

Lately I have been deep in my uni thesis. This has meant I have basically been reading and re-reading and re-re-re-re-re-re-re-reading my own work. I am so sick of it. I don’t want to read those same words again. 

The tower contained only one scroll of parchment and one quill. When she’d filled the parchment she was quite pleased. It was a good story about damsels and dragons.

Years later and she does not see it that way. Every word has been scratched out and replaced several times. She had read it so many times, she’d managed to find several overarching metaphors that revealed her inner psyche, one of which seemed to point to her being reincarnated later in the eternal hell of a strange man’s body who folk called “Kyle Sandilands”. She’d spend all day staring at the reality of the smooth round wall that surrounded her only to dream of being trapped in a worse prison.

So one day, with no ink left in the pen, she ripped up every word of the foul text and rearranged them. It took her months to find a combination that worked. But as she worked, her nightmares about the man folk called Sir Sandilands began to fade. Eventually she had re-written her story. The dragon’s wings had been cut by a beautiful and deadly damsel, but the dragon was cunning and built a new pair.

When she woke that morning, she was flying through the clouds. The tower was a distant speck, and her scales felt warm in the sun.

PS. Tomorrow I will be exactly half-way through my challenge! So I’m hopping on my friend Sam’s radio show and writing a story for him live on air! Tune in to phoenixradio anytime from 3:30-4:40.