The Knock Beyond the City
A short story written by Nathan with PlotWeaver: Cards of Creation, a storytelling game made by Mod Hob Cooperative.
This story uses a Non-Linear Plot Pattern, written in 15-minute timed acts with all story cards drawn at random. For more information, visit www.plotweavergame.com
Act 1: Disjointed Events or Perspectives
Story Element Cards: The Enigmatic Charmer, The Innocent, Living Room, Childhood Bedroom, and Dystopian
A stranger knocked at the door. An unusual event given the distance from the city, but not an unwelcome one. The boy stood up from the fire and cautiously approached the door. Most people who made it out this far were not a threat, only lost or looking to escape their lives under the glaring lights.
A younger version of himself came to life whenever somebody appeared at his door. He sits in his bedroom, yearning to escape the sirens, the pain, the desperation all around him. Even there, tucked into his pillows, he never quite felt safe. The world spun around relentlessly, seemingly indifferent to the misery living on its surface.
At the threshold, the boy gave a cautious peek through a crack in the makeshift door of his shack. It is good to be careful, he remembered.
Outside, the tall figure was backlit by the moon, slightly damp from the evening dew in the city. He might have been more fearful once, but out here, where the world was slower, where there was nothing to be stolen and nothing to gain, there seemed little reason to fear.
The man was almost a grotesque caricature. By appearance, he was unremarkable, but missing that piece, the boy had come to understand the true definition of being human. In his bedroom years ago, he had watched this creature outside, always wearing an unassuming grin as he plotted schemes that would bring hurt to those unfortunate enough to pass him.
The boy did not blame the man. It was the world they inhabited. It twisted what had once been human into creatures like him.
The boy opened the door.
Act 2: Events Connect or Merge
(Story Element Cards: Time Pressures)
The stranger seemed both surprised that someone had answered and impatient at nothing in particular. Always anxious. Always in motion.
The boy remembered the city well. No one had anyone. There were no opportunities, no jobs, no joy, nothing to strive toward, nothing that rewarded effort. Yet the absence of these basic necessities made people restless. They moved faster because they believed something must be ahead of them.
They would fade in time, the boy thought.
The stranger lingered, unsure.
The boy gestured toward the upturned milk crates he had repurposed as furniture, inviting him to sit.
The need for movement had once been ingrained in him. He had learned it from his parents, though he would have absorbed it from anywhere on the street. He used to rush from place to place, eager to complete errands so he could return to the relative comfort of his bed. Dodging cars, ducking hustlers, he moved with urgency. However trivial the tasks, he deemed them necessary, if only to give life the sense of normalcy he imagined it should have.
This was the way of life he had come out here to escape.
The stranger stood by the milk crate, shifting from side to side, unsure whether to sit or run, still searching for something to rush toward, though nothing seemed to come to mind.
Act 3: Final Intersection or Connection
(Story Element Cards: Character Transformation)
A stranger knocked at the door. An unusual event given the distance from the city, but not an unwelcome one.
The woman stood up from the fire without hesitation, though not with haste. Most people who made it this far were not a threat, only lost or seeking refuge from the glare of the city.
As she approached the door, still damp from the evening dew, she did not know what lay beyond it. Her heart raced, urging her to run, to fight, to do something. That feeling had followed her her entire life. Out here, it felt foreign, but she could not let it go for fear that it might still serve her. The haste. The anxiety. Once, it had been her protection.
She heard a rustle as the inhabitant of the shack moved toward the door. She steadied herself.
The door opened.
A boy stood on the other side.
She remembered that feeling. She stepped forward with subtle pride, with quiet satisfaction that she could now do for this wanderer what the boy had once done for her so many years ago.
The woman opened the door.