It is past two in the morning. I am the only one in the street with the lights on. Now the pubs have reopened, the drunks were back outside my window tonight. It crossed my mind that some of them might not exist. Or rather, existed at another point in time.
I am starting to think of Clifton as a wedding cake. One object, but with different tiers, and with further layers inside. Have I found a way to cut them open?
We have not had a post examining the process of a Butter Mouse tasks for a while, and the early hours are a perfect time to start my story. A time allocation of five and a half minutes (or rather 330 seconds) was a good chunk of time to get some meaty ideas down.
I had expected a planning splurge resulting in some rough material to stitch into a piece of flash fiction. But the story flowed out at the pace of the Avon. I travelled down the writing, working out what I was riding on en route rather than crafting something new.
You can see the results next week. I have only changed a handful of words, and the plot unfurled without deviation. I do not know who Walton Kearney is. Nothing meaningful about those words online, and even the vaguest of website connection are not connected to Clifton.
I have a final confession for you tonight. Something you may have assumed already. I now believe I am on to something larger. I have discovered something external to me, that I am in the process of unearthing. That the people and creatures I have seen are not hallucinations, but are somehow real.
And there is something so obvious about the Butter Mouse. Change one concept, and everything becomes clear.
More soon.
I will continue to explore. The Butter Mouse has given me a map, and I will find my destination.
No time to see friends or family this week. Perhaps a pub trip soon.
