Series: Cowboy Bebop
Genre: Short Short Fiction
Author: Vicky Thripp
Author's notes: I've decided to begin a collection of very short stories revolving around Julia (and by extension, Spike).
Acknowledgements: As always...thank you E.V., for your constructive critique and ruthless (but not rude) editing.
Disclaimer: Although I authored this story, the characters from Cowboy Bebop are owned by Bandai.
Julia's Lost Diary Pages
By Vicky Thripp
Foreword
One day in 2073, a courier-bot delivered a package to what was then my current address on Mars. The package was wrapped in plain brown paper and had no markings except for the usual official stamps from where it had changed hands.
My scalp prickled; the last time I received a plainly wrapped package, I went through emotional mayhem. Still, I'm a curious gal and besides, what if it was money or some valuable thing from a fairy godmother? I could finally be seeing the end of my endless money problems.
A wave of disappointment washed over me as I tore away the last layer of paper. All I held in my hands was, not a gem-studded chest or rare artifact, but a thick notebook, its pages and cardboard covers tattered and held together by two rubber bands.
Maybe there's a will or bankcard inside! I thought, still holding on to hope. I flipped through the notebook, fast, scattering the pages here and there, but there was nothing at all that even remotely looked like a valuable document.
At first I felt defeated. Then I got angry. I swore and swore. And then swore some more. I grabbed some of the pages, ready to tear them into little pieces. But then by chance I glanced at the papers in my hand and saw the name "Spike."
I froze, my anger draining away. Wait a minute. Could that be--? And then I found myself frantically scanning the pages spread out on my bed. On almost every page, there they were: "Spike" and then the signature "Julia" at the bottom. There wasn't a doubt in my mind as to whom the notebook referred.
But this was crazy. Who sent this? How did it find me? And why me? What was I supposed to do with this?
After a while, when I'd stopped being crazy, I collected the papers. As I gathered them together, trying to figure out their proper order (it was difficult because Julia didn't bother with dates), I read the entries. At first I had felt as though I were trespassing, but then something like a soft whisper in my ear urged me to continue. I did.
And here is what I read...
Faye, 2084
Genre: Short Short Fiction
Author: Vicky Thripp
Author's notes: I've decided to begin a collection of very short stories revolving around Julia (and by extension, Spike).
Acknowledgements: As always...thank you E.V., for your constructive critique and ruthless (but not rude) editing.
Disclaimer: Although I authored this story, the characters from Cowboy Bebop are owned by Bandai.
Julia's Lost Diary Pages
By Vicky Thripp
Foreword
One day in 2073, a courier-bot delivered a package to what was then my current address on Mars. The package was wrapped in plain brown paper and had no markings except for the usual official stamps from where it had changed hands.
My scalp prickled; the last time I received a plainly wrapped package, I went through emotional mayhem. Still, I'm a curious gal and besides, what if it was money or some valuable thing from a fairy godmother? I could finally be seeing the end of my endless money problems.
A wave of disappointment washed over me as I tore away the last layer of paper. All I held in my hands was, not a gem-studded chest or rare artifact, but a thick notebook, its pages and cardboard covers tattered and held together by two rubber bands.
Maybe there's a will or bankcard inside! I thought, still holding on to hope. I flipped through the notebook, fast, scattering the pages here and there, but there was nothing at all that even remotely looked like a valuable document.
At first I felt defeated. Then I got angry. I swore and swore. And then swore some more. I grabbed some of the pages, ready to tear them into little pieces. But then by chance I glanced at the papers in my hand and saw the name "Spike."
I froze, my anger draining away. Wait a minute. Could that be--? And then I found myself frantically scanning the pages spread out on my bed. On almost every page, there they were: "Spike" and then the signature "Julia" at the bottom. There wasn't a doubt in my mind as to whom the notebook referred.
But this was crazy. Who sent this? How did it find me? And why me? What was I supposed to do with this?
After a while, when I'd stopped being crazy, I collected the papers. As I gathered them together, trying to figure out their proper order (it was difficult because Julia didn't bother with dates), I read the entries. At first I had felt as though I were trespassing, but then something like a soft whisper in my ear urged me to continue. I did.
And here is what I read...
Faye, 2084