EPI Submission 2

 One day, Alan Roberts found a grey-brown spider in the corner of his bedroom.
 "Hullo," said he to the spider.
 "Hullo," said the spider to he.
 Then the spider went away, and that was the end of the conversation.
 The next day, the spider came back.
 "Do you like being a spider?" asked Alan timidly, having always secretly wondered.
 The spider laughed. "I'm not a spider," it said, wiggling its eight legs. "I'm an octopus."
 "Oh," replied Alan. And then: "You don't look much like an octopus."
 The octopus grinned. "That doesn't matter, I still am one. And what are you?" it added, politely.
 "I'm a boy, can't you tell?" said Alan, rather crossly.
 "How would I tell?" asked the octopus, scratching its head with one long, spindly leg.
 "Well, I have a head and arms and legs."
 "So do I, and I'm an octopus."
 Alan thought for a little while. "I look like a boy," he said, eventually.
 "I didn't ask what you look like, I asked what you are," replied the octopus, tapping its foot impatiently.
 "What I am?" He frowned, confused.
 "What you feel like. On the inside."
 After a moment of solemn contemplation, Alan's face broke into a huge grin.
 "I'm a spider," he said.


EPI Submission

Sorry to bother you, but… I couldn’t help noticing; it’s spring again. Stupid, really – it happens most years. I shouldn’t be surprised, still. I’m a bit like a puppy, aren’t I?

I’d never realised – I suppose I’ve never had to look before – but the sky is so very blue. Was it this blue last time? How about before that, when I wasn’t looking? Tell me it was greyer. Please. Didn’t it look different? Surely you would know. Omniscient and everything. You poor thing.

Have you ever wished that you didn’t know anything? Even I have, and I’m pretty much at that stage already, compared to you. Maybe it’s better that my wishes don’t get granted. The world would be a strange place if they did.

I think it’s nice that everything feels new. It fits in, outside. Everything’s always new, even if it’s been there for a thousand years. I like that. It’s the way I’m meant to be.

Have I been here for a thousand years? I’m sorry, that’s a ridiculous question. I’ve been here for just one year. One year, three months, twelve days, four hours and twenty-three minutes. Sorry, twenty-four. Sorry. It’s just numbers, though. Like the trees – it all boils down to the same thing. Everything’s the same thing.

I think people will be worrying by now. You know, they think I’m facing untold hazards out here. Maybe I’ll tell them I was with you. They like that, here.

Amen, and so forth. I’ll talk to you again soon. Please don’t forget about me, and I promise I’ll be good.

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Colours for stylesheet reqs

#cc0000 - red stylesheet?
#3366ff & ff00ff - ?
orange & pink - ?
spawnspawn2