Huh? Not making any sense? Because of the nature of these little flash fiction vignettes, I thought it would be helpful to index previous back stories and journal entries. Although Artiste’s tales are non-linear, it can help to read some pages in groups by threads of associated content. Of course you could just read them randomly, and trust that it will all come together at some point.
The beginning back story is always a great place to start:
• The Artiste Gullible back story
For this particular installment it also may help to read:
• The Edwardian Collective:
• Paying Debts
↓ Transcript
[image] Looking onto the front stoop of Artiste Gullible's home. A package has been left on the doorstep.
[text] I have no control over where I am going. A fact that is made abundantly clear in the pages of this journal. I have no control of the when; although this little twist of space is only as relevant as what comes before it, what comes after its passing, and in what particular where I happen to be sitting.
Regardless of this; possibly in spite of this, I built a house into the side of a mountain. It started as a cave; a chance discovery during a remarkably long winded storm that lingered over the Virginia highlands an eon ago. Over the years, or the millennia, depending on your point of view, I have made improvements to this home. I added on here and there, and with the help of myself, both coming and going, young and old, I have crafted a refuge in time.
I often send packages to myselves, from my various where, and whens, to my various here and nows. A sweet reminder that there is no place (or time) like home.
[text] I have no control over where I am going. A fact that is made abundantly clear in the pages of this journal. I have no control of the when; although this little twist of space is only as relevant as what comes before it, what comes after its passing, and in what particular where I happen to be sitting.
Regardless of this; possibly in spite of this, I built a house into the side of a mountain. It started as a cave; a chance discovery during a remarkably long winded storm that lingered over the Virginia highlands an eon ago. Over the years, or the millennia, depending on your point of view, I have made improvements to this home. I added on here and there, and with the help of myself, both coming and going, young and old, I have crafted a refuge in time.
I often send packages to myselves, from my various where, and whens, to my various here and nows. A sweet reminder that there is no place (or time) like home.
I like the little workmen.
They actually link back to a previous installment, The Edwardian Collective. At some point I will cross index some of these stories who’s paths cross.
Thanks for the comment.
The house number is 42. Coincidence or a purposeful reference to Hitchhiker’s Guide?