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Mr. Amos |
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 Class NovelA Dream...
I was flying gracefully through the air, looking down between forested mountains at a brackish river filled with black-shiny water creatures, which snapped and hissed and lunged at one another. For some reason, I was losing altitude, and began to drop dangerously near the surface; the beasts turned and moved toward me, tails and fins making the water boil.
It felt as though I might not rise out of harm’s way in time; my feet dipped beneath the murky-green surface and dragged me down, and the leviathans closed in on me. But by arching my back, I was able to rise again, toward the golden sky, and I sailed upward, until the fearsome creatures were no more imposing than water bugs.
Once again I felt free, and this sensation filled me with an inner peace and calm; I turned onto my back and flew face up for a while, watching the clouds form and dissolve. After a time, the air seemed to thicken, until it began to support me with its buoyancy. Then, quite suddenly and unexpectedly, the bubble burst, and I was again hurtling down, down through the whistling wind, down to the river. I tried to fight the fall, with some success, but in the end my feet hit the water, and I woke.
 Insert your first installment here. They hovered outside, in the waning light of a warm night; it was nearing the time of gathering. Above, in the shadows of python rock, a solitary figure scurried about, making preparations for the evening’s event.
Although he was an outsider, the native conditions endured over many long years had made him look much like the subjects of his study. Nor was the similarity entirely superficial; when one has to survive on what the land offers, mimicry is insufficient.
He scrolled through his notes—flashes of light and color might have been seen against the brown of his irises, had anyone been close enough to notice. He was looking up the appropriate body language for an introduction; language which would allay the fears of the tribe, without conveying weakness. A series of filters narrowed thirty-seven years of observation to a set of twenty examples; these, he viewed in a cycle, until he had narrowed them down to three finalists.
After twenty minutes or so of mumbling to himself, Dr.—
“Hey Sasha.”
“What?”
“Come here.”
“What?”
“Come sit on the bed. I have to ask you some questions.”
“What?”
“Just come here, please.”
Sasha plopped down on the bed, and began singing tunelessly.
“I’m writing a new story, and I wondered what you thought I should call the main character. I want it—Sasha, wait. Where are you going? Come back here. Sasha!”
“What’s the gender?”
“It’s a boy—a man actually.”
“And what about the name thing?”
“Well, the name is what I need. He’s a person who studies…animals—a scientist, and his name should start with Dr.”
“And then Sasha?”
“Sasha?”
“Yeahh!!!”
“Dr. Sasha what?”
“Mackerel!”
I read the dialogue back to Sasha. Just then, Isaac, covered in Spongebob bubble bath, dragged his shiny wet self up onto my side of the bed.
“Isaac! Don’t—” Of course it was already too late.
Half an hour later, the kids were in bed, and I was left on my soggy sheets, contemplating my character’s name: Dr. Mackerel…hmm… I returned to writing…
After twenty minutes or so of mumbling to himself, Dr. Sasha “Mack” Carroll had made a decision. He snuck around to the back of Python Rock, and entered its hidden crawl space. There, he kept a crudely fashioned python-skin costume with a thick, coiled middle to hide his body, and a ‘neck’ and head that could be manipulated with sticks and extended out to the front. The fires, built by the people on the slope below would now be shedding their eerie reddish-yellow light across the landscape, opposite a steadily rising full moon. The timing was perfect for a dramatic presentation.
Mack had been communicating with the tribe in this fashion for many years now. On the night of a full moon, they gathered at python rock anyway, so it was an obvious time to attempt communication. Then one winter, near the solstice, the tribe had been in great peril. There had been three years of no rain, and it was Mack’s opinion they would not have survived.
Mack had discovered that by digging near the riverbed, certain roots, frogs, fish and grubs could be found, providing all the protein the tribe needed. However, long held superstition forbade the Tsodilites from tapping into this reserve. Children had begun succumbing to hunger, and adults squabbled and divided into ever smaller groups as they contended for resources. It had been a very long time since he had seen any other tribes, and Mack had begun to ask some very difficult questions.
It began like a discussion of life across the Universe might. Sure, there were potentially habitable planets out there, but without concrete evidence of other life, one could not assume it existed. The same could be said for this region of Africa. It was large and generally fertile enough to support other tribes, but none had presented themselves, and survival did not allow such a gamble as travel and research would require.
There was the possibility that only the Tsodilo tribe remained, and so, inevitably, Mack began to wonder if his presence might have been a factor that had altered the course of human history. This led by small steps to a feeling that his purpose was not simply to observe early humanity. Wasn’t the relatively tiny Homo sapiens population the reason he had come anyway?
Perhaps it was this realization that changed his mind, but the gnawing awareness of his loneliness at first made Mack distrust himself; he had begun to believe that humanity would go extinct without his guidance. But over time, and perhaps for the same selfish reason, his doubts melted away. That’s how his dramatic persona, the python god, came to be.
The Tsodilo tribesmen were beginning to chant now, and Mack knew they were performing their dance steps, to the rhythmic cadence of the chief’s voice. He donned the python suit and turned the translation function of his message board on, even though he hadn’t used it for years, having already learned the language. (note: this allows you to communicate with each other, as you cross the savanna!)
“Oh python from the land beyond…” sang the chief.
The tribe responded in unison. “You don’t have hands, you don’t have feet!”
“Oh python, I wish I was you…”
“Because you can sleep for weeks and not eat!”
“Oh, python, coiled up in the tree…”
“You found the best place to beat the heat!”
“Oh python, you know it’s true…”
“If we get hungry, we’ll harvest your meat!”
Mack was furious. He’d spent so long working on that song, and now they’d gone and changed the lyrics on him. Must have been the chief…Mack clambered to the exit, intent on giving the tribe a piece of his mind.
“Hey! How many times have I told you—” Just then, though, as he stood up, Mack’s head cracked against the ceiling of the cave, sending stars into flight around his head, metaphorically speaking.
“Ouch! For the love of…Ouch! Ow-ow-ow-ow-ow!” Mack was jumping awkwardly up and down, causing the head of his python suit to shake and flail wildly around. “I think I’m bleeding! Man that hurts…Why does stuff like this always happen to me?”
The tribesman interrupted their song and dance, and promptly fell about in fits of laughter. “Ha-ha, python god,” said the chief, a hulking, but quick-witted hunter Mack had never really liked. “That was a good one! You have hit your back on the cave to make us laugh. You are a silly, clumsy god of funniness.”
“It’s wasn’t my back, you idiot,” Mack began, before remembering they could only see his coiled suit, and not his head. “Anyway, I have something important to say. Tomorrow, I am having some visitors, and you must all go away, until sunset. Go to the place where two rivers become one, and stay there until I call you back.”
“But that’s stupid,” said the chief. “If you are having guests, then we would like to say hello.”
“Don’t talk back to me! Are you forgetting that I’m the python god? I have commanded you to go to the two rivers. Leave at daybreak, or I will smite you with, with…with my awesome powerfulness.”
“Silly python god, you cannot come away from your rock, and you cannot come out in the day. Your skin fits like bad clothing. How would you smite me? Nonetheless, we will go to the rivers because you are so funny to look at. Shall we bring some delicious frogs or grubs from the river? We can have a feast for your friends…”
“Fine, fine, we can have a feast, so long as you go. And if you see any of my friends, make sure they don’t get eaten, or hurt. That is all—you may go now.”
“I think we will stay. We are having a good dance and sing.”
“Okay, but don’t be too loud. I’m trying to get some work done in here.”
The tribe did get loud, and danced until three in the morning. Mack fumed in his hidden compartment, and set up his message board, in preparation for the next day’s gathering. The device was black and made of an organic polymer. It gathered thermal energy and converted it into growth potential; this in turn was collected by a battery cell, which sent it to the processor. The board made it possible for Mack to record observations for his time capsule, review and update notes, and even listen to music. Now, he changed the settings, and typed in a message.
Insert Chapter 3 here. Add this letter into the beginning of chapter 4.
Hello, travelers,
By now, you will have realized you are far from home. Perhaps you have not yet discovered that you have returned to a very important moment in history: the time from which all modern humans derived their primary genetic material. I have been sent here to record and protect these early humans. My name is Dr. Sasha Carroll, but you may call me Mack.
There is a small tribe living here in these hills. I have called them the "Tsodilites", after the famous hills where so many paintings and artifacts will have been found. They are a peaceful people, and they already know you will be arriving.
A much greater danger to you are the fauna of the region; in particular, you must avoid being caught out in the open, because of the cave lions and the local raptors, which are a fast, ten-foot tall flightless bird. The saber-toothed tigers congregate in the adjacent forest, but they are more or less tame; for generations now, the Tsodilites have been feeding them, so that they no longer prey heavily on people. And don't anger the mastodons, mammoths or rhinos; just because they won't eat you, doesn't mean they won't squish you!
But I digress--you want to know why you are here, and how to get home. I'm sorry to say, getting home will not be easy for any of us. We will all have to work together, and build civilization from the ground up, as it were. By creating a similar level of advancement, we may 'leap' from one phase of human development to the next, arriving ultimately at my own time, from which you can return to yours.
I do apologize for capturing you; I hope you will come to understand that I was sent here without the ability to return. While I at first believed this arrangement was worth it, for the sake of knowledge and posterity, I have since come to feel that no person can be sacrificed, even for the greater good. I fully intend for you to return to your home as well, and provided you follow my instructions, you will. If that's not a sufficient rationale, then please imagine my wife and children, who will otherwise be forced to live without me. I have been away from home for too long, but with your help, I can return. A home is the most important thing a person may possess; I hope you will realize this, as you complete your task.
First, we have the structure of a house. The structure allows the various essential functions of the home, such as privacy, shared sustenance, companionship and symbiotic interaction.
Next, we find the experiences that guide, inform and enrich our lives. We all remember meals, conversations, special days and valued lessons that bring to us a sense of belonging.
In the end, a home helps us develop the self-esteem. Self esteem makes us grateful, and gratitude needs to be expressed. This spirit of gratitude is the first step in the development of a community. And a community leads, by small steps, toward the greatest of human achievements.
Ladies and gentlemen, I need all of you to write a poem about your home, which leads the audience inward, to the heart. Begin with the physical structure of the home, describe a few functions and experiences, and conclude with the gratitude you have come to feel.
I look forward to hearing your poems!
Sincerely,
Mack
Mack finally fell asleep, and dreamed of a time, long ago, when his life had been filled with the sounds of his children's laughter. Again and again, he saw his wife, walking slowly away. When he called out to her, she would not respond.
Insert the beginning of chapter 4...
"Honey, you're just going to have to keep practicing. Go back to the beginning, and play just this first two measures."
"But daddy, I'm tired of doing this!" Sasha was pouring like goo down the seat of her chair; it was really quite remarkable to watch. In no time flat, she was completely on the floor, between the legs of the keyboard.
"Sasha, get up, please. The more you fool around, the longer this will take."
"But my brain is already full with this. I think my head has an ache from doing all this music, Daddy!"
"Then don't use your head. Just play what I play." My brain was full too; I had the end of the semester in mind, and class novels, and...and...and the theme song of "Fairly Odd Parents" was driving me insane. I sighed, and played the section again. Sasha, now done with her protesting and recomposed, played along. An hour and a half later, we had it nailed, and I was ready to focus on the student's next writing assignment...
The chief raised his arm, and the tribe fell silent, followed by the travelers. There was a pregnant pause, as he allowed stillness to permeate the air. Mack watched the scene anxiously through carefully concealed cameras spread around the clearing beneath python rock, while he made subtle adjustments to his translation equipment. There was no telling whether or not the visitors and the tribe would get along, but Mack was vaguely optimistic. He knew there would be a ceremonial greeting, and a feast after the formal introductions. This was likely to put the Tsodilites and the visitors at ease, Mack thought. Now, the chief began to speak.
"People of the hills, it has been many summers since we have had visitors. We are blessed to share our land and food with them. The clumsy python god used his man voice, and told us of these people, and I laughed, for I believed this was another of his silly jokes. But we now see the truth of his words."
Mack swelled slightly, glad that for once the chief was impressed.
"Let us welcome these new people, and listen to their stories," the chief continued. "I am sure they have come from far away, and have many tales to tell. We will build a fire, and listen to their words."
Immediately, preparations began. Wood was brought, and the travelers were invited to sit in the center of the gathering, on logs that had been set about a fire pit ringed with stones. The tribe gathered around them, and once again, fell silent. Again, the chief spoke.
"Please tell us who you are, and where you have come from." There was a brief pause, and then the first visitor spoke.
Summarize what three other characters say about where they are from (home poems) before your character stands and recites your poem about home. You may find your poem doesn't fit your story, or that you simply want to change it. Feel free to do so! When you're done, describe the feast, and spend some time talking to one of the tribesmen.
Step one: Decide from which time period you have come, and who your protagonist is. Two: Chapter 1 will be called "Awakening". Copy and paste this dream into your story. Give thought to the setting, and any important secondary characters that may be included.
You will be writing in the past tense, using a first person perspective. The passage above is written in past tense, first person, so you can use it as a point of reference. Notice the verbs: "was flying" and "was losing" are in the past progressive form, because they describe ongoing action in the past. I have also used the simple past and the past perfect, depending on what I intended to express.
I'd like you to focus on exposition. Choose an episode to write about. You're looking for a way to expose your audience to the most important information about your characters, setting and plot. Think about what your character is like. If he or she is a serious, or funny, or thoughtful person, find a way to show it the character's interaction with the setting and others. If your protagonist is special or different in any way, explain where that uniqueness came from. Draw on your own experiences, and adapt them to fit your purpose.
If your protagonist lives in a time or place different from our own, find a way to show (rather than tell) the readers about what that time or place is like. Use lots of sensory details.
You need to end up in the Tsodilo Hills, seventy thousand years ago, and to get there, you must find a blue door that will be your portal. First, make sure that you have reached some closure in telling the episode from your character's life, and then, come up with a good reason to enter the blue door...
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