Looking Forward

What would happen if a yo-yo was discovered in a post-apocalyptic world?

4 Aug 2023, Suquamish, WA

I am wondering where to take this blog. Do I keep up with my usual random thoughts on the day? Do I throw my creative bits here for all to see? Do I simply walk away until the moss grows and overtakes the whole thing, throwing it into a place of obscurity where it will be forgotten and ignored for the rest of eternity?

I will always write. I will find a way to keep my words, whether it be in an analog place like a box or a file cabinet, or in some digital vault out there in the cloud where it will sit at the mercy of whomever is keeping it for me.

For the time being, I think I will go with submitting to these pages words from my vivid and sometimes twisted imagination based on some sort of writing prompt - or cue. It doesn't take much to get the wheels in motion. A random comment from someone at work will often have me orating some tale that is off the charts. Some are entertained by it and sort of go Hmmm and walk away. Sometimes I will see something or someone on my morning walk that will be the seed of a paragraph or a page that goes into a notebook or onto paper. And something it is a standard writing prompt from a website or e-mail. Regardless, it gets me going.

That got me thinking and I wondered what would happen if I put those writings here. You, the readers can be the ones who get entertained or go Hmmm. You might even find that you are better off running to a safe place and hiding. That's for you to decide.

A friend had an interesting suggestion. Do keep on writing from prompts, but put those prompts here for you to write on. Seemed like a pretty cool idea so I think I will follow through with it and see where it goes. So, to get things started take the cue at the beginning of this entry and write your own story or continue where I left off. Post it on your own page, or share it in the comments.

A Public Service Announcement. Blogger is an okay platform for blogs. It is easy and accepts most types of content. Unfortunately it has a long way to go with its comments section. If you can post at all, comments are limited to text only. I am not sure what the solution is. I thought about going to another platform. Substack seemed like a good place. WordPress might work, but I don't know much about it. If anyone has a suggestion I am all ears. I do insist it be a free site though. I don't plan to make any money at this so I won't invest any. I only want a place that makes submissions easy for me and anyone reading who might want to toss in their two cents.

Keep on truckin'

-Mike

***

When I woke up this morning I was lying in a pile of debris. The land was covered in shards of broken boards and twisted chunks of metal.  My clothes stuck to me damp and smelling of the bay at low tide. Something scratchy was moving across my face. I sat up with a start.

What happened last night? The last thing I remember was riding my bicycle home from work. It was a nice day, and I had no agenda. We don't get many sunny days now that the global wildfires set in. The skies were usually dusky and red and the air stinking of burning garbage. Tonight was different. The air cleared and I could see the horizon. The sun, no longer obscured in a veil of smoke, was blazing low on the horizon and the air had a sweet smell. Everything was still - too still. I remember gazing at the horizon, the bay... The bay! The water was rising, eating up the shoreline and coming for me. It engulfed me in a tremendous surge and I felt myself being lifted - carried away. Everything went black around me. I slipped into a dream.

Pushing the flotsam off me I got to my feet. What was that on my face? I pushed my hand across my eyes. Snails. They covered me. Some multi legged centipede things writhed all over me. I tore them away, but they kept coming at me from the shore. The shore? There was no shore. Heaps of broken huts from the Poulsbo Beach Resort lie crumpled around me. The beach was gone. Everything was gone, and I was covered in bugs and snails.

I walked for hours. The sky was clear, and the sun shone down hard and bright, a great white-hot ball baking everything in its light. I needed shelter - shade. I found a building that wasn’t destroyed and made my way inside. It was cooler here. Inside shelves had fallen and their contents spilled across the heaved up floor. Books were strewn about open with pages torn and matted. A headless Teddy bear, a Tonka truck, no longer fit for construction. This must be the remains of Bill's Toy Shop. Entering the shop I passed a counter crushed from a fallen beam. An old cash register was on its side, the cash drawer open. A display case lies smashed with only one recognizable item in it. The Duncan Yo-Yo Showbox was still there and a solitary Butterfly Yo-Yo sat safe in its box. I took it.