Author's Note: This is my first fiction. Exciting, yes? Posting fan fiction is just something that has never come into my head (though not for lack of leisure hours). While I would prefer to complete a story and then add it to the archives, there are factors working against my better wishes:
a) I do not have a computer of my own to save my story to, so it is wise for me to upload bit by bit. Floppy discs are a little out of my price range.
b) I don't know if this is a story I'll ever be able to complete, so might as well get it out while I can. Catharsis, and all. This truly is a perfect waste of time.
c) I write these chapters in short bursts (the small minutes of my lunch break, to be precise), I have to upload them when I can.
Of course, the negative outcome being that some of these chapters may often be 'revised', re-uploaded, whenever the notion hits me. Who knows how this story will end? I shall attempt to level off my inconsistencies in order to avoid confusion.
Thank you for your patience. I hope you enjoy what I've written.
Islands In The Sun
Chapter 1
Daimon Stamitos woke up cold and hungry, matted from head to toe with a mixture of grass and mud. He lifted his soggy head from a patch of moss, somewhat afraid to explore his present territory. It was not unusual for Daimon to awake in a bed of greenery, looking much like a rustic sort of crème cake. The coup de grace was the layer of foliage that had collected inside the hollow of his sleeping mouth.
Upon realizing fully his destitute inhabitation, Daimon jumped towards the sky in a fit of jubilation. For these were not English leaves. This he remembered from his last herbology class- they were of sub tropical origin and they were resting in his very mouth.
Quickly, he shot a glance around to assure himself he had not once again crawled into the South American mammals section of Regent's Park Zoo.
No such misfortune.
"These are not English leaves!" He whipped them around his head, enthusiastically. Success. Florida at last. Thank whatever-power-there-may-be, he'd made it. The last two weeks had found him bounced from pickle to pickle-next. Unsurprising as well, since uncertainty was the only common denominator in Daimon's life. However! Having been jettisoned from moving vehicles (plane, train and automobile) only over the last twenty-four hours. He was glad to be finally arrived.
Assuring himself of the possibility for relaxation, he began to circle the ground, tentatively looking for personal belongings. A patch of clothing here, a pack of crackers there. Maybe some floss? Never any floss. He snapped his fingers. And yet his most useful item! Daimon reflected momentarily on the fact that he never got to see the end of a twine of floss, and pondered that perhaps some great mystery of the universe might be hidden at the end of one. Hidden from him. Eternally.
He fidgeted his hands in his pockets and brought out a stick of gum. He looked up at the sky, "This survived a drop of nearly a mile? And still no floss. Well." He mused, optimistically, "At least this time, I'm wearing pants."
He sighed, picked up his bag, and walked towards the road.
a) I do not have a computer of my own to save my story to, so it is wise for me to upload bit by bit. Floppy discs are a little out of my price range.
b) I don't know if this is a story I'll ever be able to complete, so might as well get it out while I can. Catharsis, and all. This truly is a perfect waste of time.
c) I write these chapters in short bursts (the small minutes of my lunch break, to be precise), I have to upload them when I can.
Of course, the negative outcome being that some of these chapters may often be 'revised', re-uploaded, whenever the notion hits me. Who knows how this story will end? I shall attempt to level off my inconsistencies in order to avoid confusion.
Thank you for your patience. I hope you enjoy what I've written.
Islands In The Sun
Chapter 1
Daimon Stamitos woke up cold and hungry, matted from head to toe with a mixture of grass and mud. He lifted his soggy head from a patch of moss, somewhat afraid to explore his present territory. It was not unusual for Daimon to awake in a bed of greenery, looking much like a rustic sort of crème cake. The coup de grace was the layer of foliage that had collected inside the hollow of his sleeping mouth.
Upon realizing fully his destitute inhabitation, Daimon jumped towards the sky in a fit of jubilation. For these were not English leaves. This he remembered from his last herbology class- they were of sub tropical origin and they were resting in his very mouth.
Quickly, he shot a glance around to assure himself he had not once again crawled into the South American mammals section of Regent's Park Zoo.
No such misfortune.
"These are not English leaves!" He whipped them around his head, enthusiastically. Success. Florida at last. Thank whatever-power-there-may-be, he'd made it. The last two weeks had found him bounced from pickle to pickle-next. Unsurprising as well, since uncertainty was the only common denominator in Daimon's life. However! Having been jettisoned from moving vehicles (plane, train and automobile) only over the last twenty-four hours. He was glad to be finally arrived.
Assuring himself of the possibility for relaxation, he began to circle the ground, tentatively looking for personal belongings. A patch of clothing here, a pack of crackers there. Maybe some floss? Never any floss. He snapped his fingers. And yet his most useful item! Daimon reflected momentarily on the fact that he never got to see the end of a twine of floss, and pondered that perhaps some great mystery of the universe might be hidden at the end of one. Hidden from him. Eternally.
He fidgeted his hands in his pockets and brought out a stick of gum. He looked up at the sky, "This survived a drop of nearly a mile? And still no floss. Well." He mused, optimistically, "At least this time, I'm wearing pants."
He sighed, picked up his bag, and walked towards the road.