Notes from Swampy
Below is version 1 of this short story. The next version, which will be published as a separate entity in all aspects--tone, voice, plot, interaction between characters, will all change without the removal of any of the text in the previous version. Unrelated to the adventures awaiting the first version of the silly project planned out for the draft below; I personally find the short story (under 6,000 words) perfectly captures and delivers the goal intended by the exercise. The real test though is in the response from the audience, and if the predictions were accurate, then version 2 will be put in the pile for works in progress. However, until a large enough audience happens to find this small serving of words hidden away in the internet, and then additionally, the intended results are noted and shared back to the original author, then, and only then, will this childish tale bordering on being classified a fable see itself back in center stage for a complete renovation, aligned with the rules constraining this experiment. Happy reading all.
Page 1 Version 1
A short story for those whose cups are half empty. The story begins with a dialogue between two unidentified characters. This is the original version. If you're the type of person that sees the cup as half empty, a pessimist, then this version is for you.
First time readers are at this point are wondering if they are being tricked into reading a book of evil. That is not the case.
“Yeah, no, I got it,” I answer him, almost confusing myself, allowing a hint of swamp to pierce my
Some past readers have found these early pages more entertaining and interesting having finished the short story once before, but first time readers at this point are thinking, "yeah, it's not bad."
“Okay, here goes,” he stutters with a hint of nervous pause, stumbling across the words chicken scratched into
Ignoring my snarky commentary, he searches the pages above his lap that have mysteriously appeared without explanation and defying the electronic nature of his original claim. The sharply pointed nail of his middle finger, having grown along the skin instead of straight out as if working its way around to form a cap over the top of the grotesquely formed finger, scratches against the pages as each of his eyes scan their respective page independently, as if controlled by two disparate brain mechanisms, assuming he has even one. What his
“That’s not true. Any planet that sparks a chain reaction of peace that spreads throughout creation is instantly granted access to heaven as whatever occurred on that planet since the first drop of water landed on it led to