ITT: Creating a story, four worlds at a time.
Julia sat under the bus shelter, and watched the raindrops sliding down the glass. The bus was late, as always; sometimes it didn't come this way at all. Julia wondered if anyone had ever complained. There were never many people using this service anyway. To her left, an old man was dozing. To her right, two teenage girls were talking in Japanese.
Somebody had left a newspaper on the bench, and Julia glanced at the front page. Most of it was taken up by a large picture of a politician, the leader of the opposition. He had some strong words of criticism for the existing Prime Minister, and he was confident that his campaign strategy would be a success, the article claimed. He promised change, but as to what that change might be, the article was silent. Julia stopped reading. Career politicians and their Punch-and-Judy bickering. It might as well be happening on another fucking planet.
The bus arrived, eventually. Julia climbed aboard and gave the weary-looking driver her fare. The bus was empty, apart from a young man in a tatty suit who was seated near the back, his attention completely occupied by his Samsung Galaxy S III.
Julia sat down near the front of the bus, beside a window. She was eager to get home. She would put the kettle on, take out her writing pad, and begin work on her latest chapter. The story was a fantasy, set in Green Shell Cove, a bright, sunny town by the sea. It was a quiet place, where people lived simple lives, generation after generation acting out the same traditions. Isolated as they were, the people of the Cove kept to themselves. They had no time for outsiders, with one exception: the Storyteller.
The Storyteller was Julia's favourite character, although she hadn't even written his first scene yet. He was to be an old man, the kind of person who seemed grouchy at first glance, but who had a twinkle in his eye that told otherwise. That was a cliché; she would revise that. What mattered was that when he arrived in town, the children would gather around, and some of the adults too, hoping for one of his marvellous stories, and with a little coaxing, he would begin his tale.
'This story starts long ago, in a far-off country, very unlike this one,' he would say. 'In the very centre of that country, there was a vast city, its walls lined with gold, its buildings topped with shining towers. And at the very centre of the town, there was a palace, the likes of which has never been seen since the fall of that city. And it was in a room in that palace that a young prince who longed for adventure was about to encounter a being from another world...'
Somebody had left a newspaper on the bench, and Julia glanced at the front page. Most of it was taken up by a large picture of a politician, the leader of the opposition. He had some strong words of criticism for the existing Prime Minister, and he was confident that his campaign strategy would be a success, the article claimed. He promised change, but as to what that change might be, the article was silent. Julia stopped reading. Career politicians and their Punch-and-Judy bickering. It might as well be happening on another fucking planet.
The bus arrived, eventually. Julia climbed aboard and gave the weary-looking driver her fare. The bus was empty, apart from a young man in a tatty suit who was seated near the back, his attention completely occupied by his Samsung Galaxy S III.
Julia sat down near the front of the bus, beside a window. She was eager to get home. She would put the kettle on, take out her writing pad, and begin work on her latest chapter. The story was a fantasy, set in Green Shell Cove, a bright, sunny town by the sea. It was a quiet place, where people lived simple lives, generation after generation acting out the same traditions. Isolated as they were, the people of the Cove kept to themselves. They had no time for outsiders, with one exception: the Storyteller.
The Storyteller was Julia's favourite character, although she hadn't even written his first scene yet. He was to be an old man, the kind of person who seemed grouchy at first glance, but who had a twinkle in his eye that told otherwise. That was a cliché; she would revise that. What mattered was that when he arrived in town, the children would gather around, and some of the adults too, hoping for one of his marvellous stories, and with a little coaxing, he would begin his tale.
'This story starts long ago, in a far-off country, very unlike this one,' he would say. 'In the very centre of that country, there was a vast city, its walls lined with gold, its buildings topped with shining towers. And at the very centre of the town, there was a palace, the likes of which has never been seen since the fall of that city. And it was in a room in that palace that a young prince who longed for adventure was about to encounter a being from another world...'
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