Bobby slows down when we hit the Route 7 extension in Danbury, CT. He then points out a tree on the side of the road. Even though the tree has fallen it’s leaves are green and it continues to thrive. It’s a strange sight.

“Every time I see that tree I laugh to myself. Someday, someone should write a story about that tree.”

Every day this month i’ll be writing 140 characters of fiction (actually 135, because of the space and hashtag) on Twitter.

The easiest way to find my posts is by clicking here.

I’ve decided to tell one story over the course of the month. Originally I thought I’d just post separate story chunks, but then a wonderful idea struck me. Follow Sih in a strange, micro adventure.

If you have no clue what I’m walking about, check my previous Nano WriMo post.

Anyway.

Cool news! I’m now a daily reporter over at Purple Pawn!

Purple Pawn is a news site that posts about tabletop games, from board games to RPG, miniatures and CCGs. I’ve been posting there for around 2 weeks now, and I’m still growing into it. I never really knew how hard it could be to find interesting tidbits of news to post about every day.

So go check it out! You may just find something right up your alley.

Then I see this tweet from Mur Lafferty today.

New blog post: Random thought- Nano WriMo http://bit.ly/hQW8D

Hrm. Interesting. Let’s click the link and see what we have.

!!!

Awesome idea.

So this year I’ll be participating in Nano WriMo. Should be interesting, thought-provoking, and fun!

He lay on the ground broken and battered, both physically and emotionally. Who was this boy who came and utterly destroyed everything Harn had known to be true? All the constants. Everything that had always been the same shattered in an instant. His anger rose. He tried to rise and strike out, but the young man subdued him easily once again.

Daren stood over Harn , calm expression on his face, hand held with palm outstretched. “Get up,” he said “This is over.”

Harn took his hand and slowly rose to his feet, unable to look Daren in the eye.

Somewhere in the distance, Grey looked on amazed. He couldn’t believe what had just happened. Daren had taken down Harn, the most powerful being in the entire world. Where his plans going to fail after all? He couldn’t understand how Daren could be so powerful, yet not want to use his power. Why would this man want to be normal?

Grey shook the thought out of this head. Let us play out this ruse a little longer, he thought, and see where it takes us.

He hated rush deliveries. Hated them with a passion. A rush delivery meant he couldn’t use his scooter, couldn’t enjoy the breeze in his hair as he sped through the city streets to whatever destination. No. rush deliveries meant he had to fly. Fly between the buildings, over the roads, where everyone would stop and stare as he went by. Cheers and gasps would rise from the crowds below.

Rush deliveries sucked.

5 minutes after receiving notice, Daren had the package and was standing in front of the addressee’s door. A quick knock was all it took to bring his target to the door. The man looked young, maybe in his mid twenties. He was around 5’8″, thick, but not fat, with dark brown hair, and a beard. He introduced himself as Tip. Daren handed the package over, and pulled out his tablet for the man to sign. As he was doing this, he noticed the man’s pants.

Damn, those were some fine pants. Daren couldn’t help but stare. The cut was flawless, and the simple pants seemed to radiate style. As if Tip got this a lot, he smiled. “You like these? I just whipped these up this morning.” Daren was shocked. “You made these?” “Of course. I make all my pants.”

Daren felt a little silly. Never in his life had he marveled at a pair of pants, but here he was. He just couldn’t help himself. He shook his head to try and clear it. Turning to leave, he bade Tip a good day. Without thinking, he took off and flew up into the air. It wasn’t until he was halfway back to his office that he noticed the initials signed on his tablet.

T.H.P.

Daren stopped in mid air, jaw gaping. It all clicked…

The Human Pantaloness.

—

Tip had followed Daren with his eyes until he was out of sight. He then shut the door and turned around. “Is he the one?”

“Yes. He’s the one.” Harn answered.

Standing about 6’2″, Harn was the poster boy for perfection.  His teeth where so white, they sparkled.  His chiseled features, matched with an olive tone skin, only helped to accentuate his piercing, grey eyes.  His hair never seemed out of place, even when flying faster than the speed of sound.  The gray creeping into his hair as he had aged had only made him more handsome.

Yes.  Harn was utter perfection.  His only weakness?  His temper.

While Harn was the nicest man you’d ever meet.  Get on his bad side, and you’d not be long in this world.

For all the babies he kissed, damsels he’d rescued, and good ‘ol boys he’d meet at the bar, get in Harn’s way, and there’d be nothing left to identify your body.

For those who don’t remember ficlets, it was a site to post very short fiction.  Once posted, people could write prequel, or sequels to your writing, sometimes branching out all over the damn place.  It was a cool concept, but Ficlets shut their doors.  Now Ficly comes to the rescue!

You can find my Ficly profile here.  I haven’t posted as of yet, but I’m thinking of moving my old Ficlets stuff over soon.

Yes…this felt good, almost erotic.

—

Daren walked calmly down the streets, hands in his pockets and hood pulled up over his head. What had he allowed to happen? All the years of trying to fit in, to not be special, has allowed everything to culminate up to this point. With smooth, metered steps he made his way towards the center of the city, the eye of the storm. All around him trash cans, broken glass, and other bits of debris flew. Without even flinching, he continued his pace.

It was there, in the quiet of the eye, that he finally looked up from the ground. The air around him grew still and thick as his feet slowly rose from the concrete. Bits of rubble around him followed his ascent as the gale force winds whipped around this newly formed pocket of air. Up he rose until he was in the direct center of the storm’s eye. Daren lifted his head toward the sky, causing his hood to fall away from his face. He eyes glowed a sickly black, as if no light was coming from them, but was being sucked into them.

—

No. How could this be? He had taken care of Daren, made him mortal again. Spittle flew from Grey’s lips as he doubled over in agony. Ripping at his hair with his hands he cursed wildly. The stinging of blood in his eye snapped him out of his fit. There was no way Daren could stop the storm. No true superhero had ever battled a force of nature like this before, so how could this pathetic excuse of a person with superpowers do it?

Then, the world went silent. Time seemed to stand still, and all Grey could see where the two black pools where Daren’s eyes were supposed to be. A pulse emanated from Daren’s body, almost inaudible and invisible. As the waves of the pulse spread around him, the clouds instantly broke up, the winds died down, and the storm was gone.