Another week, another big week actually, another story. Well, two stories, kind of, you'll see. This week I have a story that sparked in my mind over the past summer. I've scribbled and doodled in moleskin notebooks about this idea and when the opportunity arose in my latest writing class I jumped on it. It's about a robot named Andrew and the grand city he lives in, Ashland. I do some explaining in the podcast, but I'll say it here again anyway. Andrew is the first robot to gain U.S. citizenship and own a home. This was given too him after a bunch of automaton activists forced the hands of some senators and as an experiment one Zero, robot, was given the same rites as everyone else. That lucky little bot was Andrew. I've written and journaled much more about my favorite tin man, and I hope to post more later, but for right now, I'm going to keep rewriting it.
Here's the link to the story:
Andrew One.mp3">
I thank Edgar enough in there, but I feel like I have to do it again, because he did some pretty cool sound modification on the intro.
Now, you may be thinking, I've got robots, but where are the rivers and the railroads? Well I would say to you, keep your pants on, this is my blog, I'll get to it when I'm good and ready to, geez.
Anyway, rivers and railroads will be the topics of two stories I hope to read next time, after much going over and much taking apart.
But here's a snipit from each story
- My folktale - Sweethill:
There is a small town called Sweethill that floods every thirty days on the dot. The waters come in fast and hard and raise enough to devour the homes and businesses of Sweethill completely. You see, the river located next to the town rises up from its bed on the morning of the thirtieth and walks its way into town. People there have learned that if everything is not bolted down tight their livelihood will be lost and swept away, but even though they try some are still taken and the people are beginning to get angry. So they try and fight the river. Some people thought that they could stop the river from running in by digging a trench but the river had long legs and could easily make it through. Others tried to build large walls and dams to stop the river from coming in but the river had strong arms and could easily make it up and over. A select few even tried to just remove themselves from the scene and tied balloons to their homes in hopes to float away, this of course was a silly idea and was soon forgotten by the masses.
-Another Big Story Idea- The Golden Landing
For the past two weeks Brodi and I had slowly crept our way cross the Fort Territory and ended up staying at the famous Rail Hotel. This was a place that was proclaimed across the nation as a place for the swankiest of the swank to rest their big rich heads and stare down their noses at the Blue Collar District that stretched out all around the hotel. The place stood like a monolith amongst the broken. But now it was just as broken and black as the rest. That was just perfect for us though, black and broken, that could have been our nicknames.
I've also decided to actually turn this into a blog, instead of just a holster for my stories, and will try to write at least once every two or three days. Expect a few entries over break, and maybe some more bits of story, and anything else that comes to my mind.Peace
-Jon
