transcessive story #3


- Writer #1: StarPants
- Writer #2: Jon
- Writer #3: Leo
- Writer #4: jlo

intro written by StarPants:
There is a kangaroo from Katmandu who can’t remember his name. In a different today he is a spotted Leprecorn with furry toes and a purple nose. But in this today in every way he’s marsupial, nameless and gay.

Read the continuation of this story in the comments section below…

5 Responses to “transcessive story #3”

  1. Admin Says:

    It was 3 o’clock in the morning and I was tossing and turning in bed because I couldn’t stop thinking about the words that Sarah said to me over dinner. “Take this book and go to the top of the Silver Hills tomorrow afternoon at 1pm. When the shadows of all three trees intersect, open up the book to page 31 and read the last 8 words out loud. Then wait.”

    Why did she give me such vague instructions? What if there are only two trees? What difference can it make to read these 8 words out loud and why up there at exactly that time? Thank god for sleeping pills. I turned on the lamp on my nightstand, walked over to the medicine cabinet and swallowed a sleeping pill with a couple of sips of water.

    The next thing I saw was the time on my alarm clock. It was 12:30pm. How could I have slept so long? Did I miss my opportunity to make it up on the Silver Hills in time? I threw on a pair of pants and a shirt that were still lying on the floor, put the book that Sarah gave me in my pocket and rushed out of the house.

    As I ran up the street towards the hills, I noticed that something was different…

  2. Starpants Says:

    I’m not so much that I am running as galloping. My feet aren’t really squishy in my sneakers like they normally are. It’s more a clip-clopping sound. I try to gasp but it comes out as more of a gruff snort. I am FAST! Very fast. Without realizing it I am charging ahead, hard in the middle of the street. Cars veer away, screaching. I am afraid but i charge faster, my magic hoofs cracking the cement beneath them, my green velvet lapels rubbing my oily coat. I feel strangely the singular horn on my forehead pulling me forward. Now sirens approach. Still going hard, I am confused by the urge to go for the squirt gun. I am even more confused because I can’t reach my pocket. Then I see them–three rainbows, each with 8 stripes, thirty one stories high. It’s all making sense… The po-po is now hot on my hooves. As I approach I must choose which rainbow to mount. Three more lengths to go. Now two. I lower my head. Letting my lepricon horn guide me, I…

  3. JLo Says:

    …and let my tail trail my whimsy. But, what could two shadows mean? It was the fourth pill that put me on the street at this hour and extra color in my skyward arch.
    Hoofs suck I must say.
    I make double time to my instructed location; my beathing makes me drip from the face that I wear at a distance. The sound of my steps explodes the hairs in my ears. I eagerly await the arrival.
    Trees are a maybe. As the first sun sets…

  4. jon Says:

    the air is beginning to fill with sound. It is of a melodic acoustic guitar at first but becoming more and more human as i continue to ascend this odd rainbow tree, snippets of words emerging from the drone of a throat singing that viscerally vibrates all of my internal organs as though there were thousands of tiny hummingbirds seeking nectar inside me. It calms me.
    I lay down on what I now realize is the intersecting center of the three rainbow trees. I close my eyes. Is this what she meant? I feel again for my pocket. The book is there.

  5. leo Says:

    it is only moments before something else happens, but so much happens in those moments first. i am on a hill at the edge of town, between three trees, with a book in my pocket. I should have looked at the 8 words last night. it is warmer than it should be. i am more nervous than i should be.

    my road has forked before, but i never saw it coming. my dad died, we got pregnant, the police, kicked out of school-without warning. but this is so ominous. and ridiculous.

    my hand is in my pocket with the book. its rough green cover is empty, i remember. i twist the smooth red ribbon marking page 31 between my fingers. it is an anchor to something. it feels like sarah to me, or what i imagine she must feel like.

    i’m being ridiculous. nothing can be this significant. i am on a hill at the edge of town, between three trees, with a book in my pocket. that is all. the shadows are crossing now. the sun still shines, galaxies are not falling, my breath is not failing, i can still hear traffic on the streets below and even the faint call of voices. the grass is growing under me and gravity has not failed. i am a man and not a horse, still, and the trees are just trees. nothing is being very significant, as it was, is and ever shall be.

    so i just pull out the book, no big deal, and begin to read.

    “the canopy falls open…”

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