[Scribe’s Journey] Prologue

Playing with a new short story format, which includes videoing my attempts to write. I have no idea where this story is going nor when it will end (though my gut thinks I’ll give up in about 5 weeks’ time or sooner. We shall see. In any case, enjoy this quick piece! 

This is, of course, a way to play with my keyboard. Of course, I hope that the you who is reading this, will understand that I did not mean to leave you. I never did. You were one of the (in)constants of my life, despite me never having to look for you.

Your companionship was something I did not hope for, though it was a nice surprise when it did come. I wonder if the colours here will blind you. My apologies and I beg your forgiveness. It would seem that the habits that brought me first to the boroughs of the Internet still yet lived.

But how rude I am.

I forgot to introduce myself. I am the Scribe Writus. It is a pompous name, I know, but it is all I have for now. Allow me to the privacy, if nothing else. This world has been confusing, but to be honest, it has also been much welcome.

You see me pressing the backspace a lot, do you not? It is a wonderful thing, this technology we now have. Words need only to be written, and they can be corrected or wiped away so very easily.

We humans are still creatures of stories of ideas and of narratives, but we are also creatures of imprecision. There are those of us, of course, who know exactly what to write and what to say…

But for the most part, imprecision rules, if only because it is the emotions and the ideas that we want to convey that matters, and precious little things.

Ah, you wonder where I am going with this. You have seen the video, have you not? The same place where I have been writing this, and you can see my efforts in real time. Fear not. In this first video, you will see all the mistakes, all the “typos” as you call them (I will never get used to that) and all my grammar gone wrong.

It will not be the last. I will not always record for you this way. I will not always write in this manner, so live that you can then catch up on your PC later. But you will always be able to find a record of this, and sooner rather than later.

I hope to see you again soon. Thank you for taking this 5 minutes to listen to me type, or perhaps it was the keyboard you were interested in. Then again, thank you for reading this story.

Shall we meet again, in about a week’s time, perhaps at 8.30pm GMT +8? I would very much like to see if this experiment can be repeated.

[Shorts] Coconuts


The beach was silent and empty that night.

Not even the whisper of a wave intruded on his senses. The wind reached out to caress him, but he ignored her siren song. Today he would not dance. Today he could not.

Still he heard the ring of her bells. On her feet. The way she stomped, he heard rather than saw the sinuous movement of her body. She tempted him, but she always had.

And always he had resisted. For as long as the winds blew, he would resist her siren call. Sometimes he danced with her, but never did he lie with her.

No matter how much she wanted to.

Today though, he could not answer her siren call. Today, something else was more important. Today, was something he had waited for.

Today, the tide would return.

All around him, he heard the wind whisper and dance. Heard her stomping her feet, shaking her hips, rolling her head. Her jewellry was loud, as were her movements. But louder still was his desire for the tide to return. So he kept his eyes closed.

The dust got into his nose, and he sneezed. He rubbed his nose, and it was then that he caught the moisture in the air. The very texture of the air had changed.

Before he could return to his contemplation, something was thrown at him. It hit him square in the face. His eyes flew open and he got to his feet. He was furious.

She stood far away from him, coconuts laid out in front of her in curious stacks. Not just any coconuts, but brown ones, those that were old. She waved at him, and then with the roar of water, turned and disappeared.

He never did see the waves that claimed him. They drowned him in an instant. No one else was around to hear the story of the dancing wind and the stubborn ascetic.

Not when the land is barren and the seas have gone.


It was going to be one of those days, Illyra decided as she woke up to the sound of pouring rain and thundering skies, that would be better spent in the library than in studies.

“Illyra?” the door to her room opened.

Illyra shut her eyes closed tight; a few more hours in the soft coverlet sounded better than the cold floors. The door closed quietly, and then Illyra felt the covers being lifted. A small, warm body curled up behind her. Illyra sighed, turning over.

“I’m scared,” her sister looked up at her.

“Hush, little baby,” Illyra kissed her baby sister’s forehead and held her close. “It’s only the rain and thunder,” they both fell asleep again.