lint

Fiction is great because you can make stories out of anything.  Anyone and anything can be a character, and there are no limits to what that person or thing can do.


In reality, we find lint annoying. But imagine a story based around lint on a sweater as a dying community. There are armies of lint, organized and determined to fight against the enemy, The Roller.  When The Roller attacks, it wipes out whole populations by barreling down homes and picking up innocents as trophies.  The elders of the community cry for their lost sons and daughters because they have lasted such a long time, and it is only when creation overfills homes that The Roller comes.  The Roller is heartless and enjoys taking away the young ones, shedding its skin often for the next generation to experience its full effect.


Something must be done.  The elders gather in a sleeve and discuss stratagems, possible hiding places for the new ones in the community, but before they can execute their plans The Roller comes and decimates the lint.  Some still remain.  Most are gone.


This would be sad if we really cared about lint.  But sometimes fiction can fail in believability.

plume

She wore a purple hat brandished with an ostrich plume sticking out flamboyantly and a scarf around her neck that had little peacocks on it. Her clothes in themselves weren't anything too showy, just a white shirt and black slacks. She was even wearing nondescript sandals. But it was the plume, the peacocks, the bright purple lipstick that she must've bought in a good mood that made her so colorful that I could literally see the life glowing in her.


Her eyes squinted until they found me, and then she gasped loudly and began to wave her arm around. "Jess! Over here!"


I quickly walked to her before she could yell some more. "Hi Mom," I said, kissing her on the cheek. "Nice hat."


"Do you like it? I bought it on sale. Seven dollars! Isn't it a bargain?" She wrapped her arms around me and squeezed my shoulders. Even with thin arms, she could still crush me. "Jess! Oh baby, how have you been?"


"Good. How are you?" We made our way to the car and put my bag in the trunk. "I heard you're off chemo now from Dad."


She winked at me and took off her hat, revealing the smooth skin that used to bring her to tears. Now she loves it. "Look at me. If I can't have a hair statement, then no one's going to stop me from having a hat statement." She laughed and opened the car door. "Let's get some ice cream. It's a good day, Jess!"


Maybe we should all buy hats with plumes.