~x~

"Beware of Puddles," a tiny story.
Text by shelleyskykarks, illustration by mignonne.

Text: "Father says you can't come over today. You know, on account of what happened last time."

I love the ambiguity of which of the two is speaking.

Metaphorest wrote lyrics and sang - PASIV wrote music - I made animation with the help of hitRecord's huge library of resources - then was made extended version of video - then Joe suggested to add sound elements to correspond with the video - after that Metaphorest and PASIV worked on this Awesome new version of the song Wanderer - then it was send to me and I just added it to the video. Hope I didn't miss anything. Interesting sequence of events :) So, it is the "third edition".

everything the same except for the subs and the new score.

I finally got a mix I can live with :) Enjoy... visuals on the way. 

My father loved words. He built high towers with them.

But the tower got too high, and one day, he fell.

The first day he was absent from his study, something wield happened.

Somehow half of the room’s colors were gone. Somehow the room became twice as large.

I had never dressed this way before. Somehow the suits’ blackness was dazzling.

I read the books he left behind.

There was one book that was different from the rest. It was the book my father wrote.

I forgot to close the window as I read.

The wind blew the text off the page.

I shut the book, but it was too late.

The wind had messed up all the types on all the pages.

A girl jumped out of the book, looking angry.

She dragged me in the book, saying I was responsible for fixing the book.

The book seemed just half an inch thick, but it was deep.

To collect the lost words, I journeyed far.

I did not share my father’s passion for words.

You see, he had always been telling me nice stories with his beautiful words,

But in the end, he let me down.

That was why sometimes I chose to keep my words safely in my throat.

I was afraid that if I ever let them out, they would disappear just like the vapor coming out of my mouth in winter did.

However, I saw so many beautiful views in the world of the book that

Sometimes I forgot that my depressed father wrote the book.

But they are fictional. They are lies. I said so to the girl, who got mad at me.

She said, Watch your mouth! Your dad created me. Are you saying that I’m a lie?

I said sorry to her.

We journeyed long in the book.

One spring, one summer, one autumn, and two winters was past.

By the end of the second winter, we had fixed the book.

We shook hands and said farewell.

The girl offered to realize a wish I had to thank me.

I said it was too high above and far away for me to reach there. Could you send me there?

I wished I could see him again.

The girl said let’s give it a try. I wonder how high we can get if we pile up the ninety thousand words we have?

We failed.

We were only able to reach the first cloud layer.

Dad must be higher above.

I hid my face in the soft cloud, so the girl wouldn’t see it if I end up crying.

Something cool touched the back of my neck.

I thought it was snow from the clouds above. I touched my neck, but the coolness did not melt in my hand.

I checked the snowflake.

It was not a snowflake. It was a letter.[character?]

I lifted my face and saw the words Dad wrote me snowing down from above.

I brought the words home.

I put them in the aquarium where the tropical fish lived, on a plant’s leaf, in a rusty can, and in many other places.

His words protected me.

Then, I grew up.

I was surprised that I failed to notice the words disappearing until all of them were gone.

The words are in my heart now.

They are a promise that Dad asked me to keep, and I will keep the promise.

A day will come when I meet him again high up in the sky.

But before that, I promise him that I will collect as many beautiful things as I can, so that

When I get there, we will have good materials to make stories with.