Myra Karine & Her Blog

This is the sequel to CAUTION: This is a Book, where Tevy Byrne falls through her bedroom floor into a crazy unexplainable world.

Idea : Came from writing the first one. You have to continue. Forever.

Process : I keep a long list of notes of funny or philosophical stuff and quotes and jokes and weird/funny words or phrases and when I need something to happen or for them to talk about something, I grab something from my list.

Edited? : No.

Excerpt:

My cell was exactly seven paces wide and five paces long, for a total circumference of 24 paces. I know because I walked around it a billion times while waiting for something to happen. I wish I at least could have my clothes back. And Kokoa. I don’t know where she went, but I guess if she stayed in the city she’d find me eventually. Why did it take so long to write up a few little pieces of paper? At least rational discussion had prevent me from being thrown off the cliff-side wall, but I could see where it could lead to problems. For one, I’d been put in the cell, but I had no idea what time it was or how long I’d been here. They had left a pitcher of water and I found a chamber pot under the bed, but as far as I could tell it had been a hundred years and no one had dropped by to see how I was doing or to give me food. I was not going to use the chamber pot. They have flush toilets. So, stubbornly, I waited without doing anything but pace. Even as I got weary I refused to use the bed, convinced somebody would drop by before nighttime. I was wrong. I’d finally given in and fallen asleep for just a little bit when someone opened my door (without knocking) and I was led out, still in a daze, with my tummy rumbling. As soon as I got outside I could see daylight streaming in through the few windows, which meant either I was in there for a little time or it really was the next day and I wouldn’t be going back to the cell (if all had gone according to plan). I admit, I was pissed at whomever it was who left me pacing aimlessly and food-less-ly. I suspect the fault might belong to the Primus, if he neglected to assign anyone to take care of me. Eventually once I’d worked through my irritation and drowsiness I noticed I was being led by the same two guys who were around yesterday. “Don’t you two have anything better to do?” I wondered. They declined to answer that question. “Were you guarding my room the whole night, or did you get to go home and stretch out on a proper bed and chow on some lovely grapes?” “The door has a lock,” said the nice guy. Because that explains everything. Or did they think I couldn’t possibly get out of the room if it had a lock, and thus didn’t need to post guards? Darn it, why didn’t I try the stupid lock? I could’ve gotten about, used a toilet, snagged some food, and nobody would’ve been the wiser because it ‘has a lock’. I needed to find myself some cinnamon, pronto.