So I was sitting on the couch yesterday when another story idea hit me. Having learned my lesson from Llaewyn and the lack of sleep he inflicted on me for not writing his bit down, I captured this one right away. It’s rough, and probably sucks, but this is what I had. Realistically, this one page would probably span a couple chapters before I get to the “letter” at the bottom.
On a positive note, having another story idea means that I might *not* be faking it as a writer. Right?
This is in a dystopian future setting…
Silver wisps of cloud clung to Triton’s sleeve as he soared high above the golden grass. His brow creased and with a wave of his hand, the clouds vanished. A smile returned to his face as he swept his arms back, turning into a dive. The wind drove against his face, whipping his long black hair around his head. Just a few more seconds and he’d pull out of the dive, skimming the tips of the grass.
The world froze around him. The sky turned gray and the grass morphed into a solid block of gold. He hung motionless in the sky. The ground twitched toward him twice before vanishing. Everything turned black. His stomach twisted violently and he opened his eyes.
“Trevor Wilson?” A short, gray-haired face filled his view.
Triton’s hand instinctively went to the now empty net-jack above his right ear. He shoved the man back. “What the hell? You don’t unjack someone like that.” He rubbed his temples. “It screws with my head.”
“What? Yeah, I guess. Who the hell are you?” Trevor tried to look the man up, but he wasn’t broadcasting an ident wave. He switched his ocular implant to electromagnetic. Disgusting. He was pure meat; no mods or implants at all.
“This is for you.” He shoved a crumpled, blood stained envelope into Trevor’s hand. “It’s from your sister.” He turned and walked toward the open door.
Trevor choked. His sister? “Fuck you. My sister’s dead.” He threw the envelope back at the stranger. “Who are you?” He stepped closer and raised his titanium plated fist.
“Somebody who wasn’t here,” he answered without turning around. Before Trevor could think of a retort, he was gone.
Trevor grabbed a nutri-squeeze from the refrigerator and tore it open. Closing his eyes, he crushed the plastic container in his fist. Green sludge spurted into his mouth and he swallowed it before he had to taste it. A shudder passed through him. Disgusting, but it kept his meat alive.
Tossing the wrapper away, he noticed the envelope laying on the floor. His name was written across the front in a flowery, woman’s handwriting. He flopped back into his seat and tore it open. He pulled out the paper inside and opened it.
I’m praying you get this letter. I’m sorry I lied to you, but at the time, I had to. I didn’t die that day. I had to fake it so nobody would follow me.
I need you to come for me. Things have gone badly and I can’t get out. I will send someone for you.