analog blogging 2

Stories are simple. You just start at some point, place, action, character and start walking. Let your brain find the path open the world. Start somewhere.

The bird walked toward me as if I had something to tell it. I had the secret it wanted, needed. What it had been searching for all this time. It paused and looked again at me. Once the secret was known, what would it do? There was nothing else beyond that moment. A fulfilled purpose...is that what it really wanted? A clockwork ship ticked by, rolling its gears in the Meditterranean [sic]. Droplets of sea moisened the bird's feathers. I cleaned my glasses, though considering the scratched lenses, that was a useless exercise. The bird shook and preened a quick wing. Looked out across the mar and flew away. I knew no screts anyway.

~~~
A rain of oranges left us with leads to a rot of rinds.