Hi everyone, I really like reading and sharing fiction, so thought we could have a thread on that topic. Please post up your creative writings, perhaps expecting or hoping for some feedback from our awesome BB community.

Hi amberlite! Here is a snippet of something I wrote in 2014, I hope you are reminded of your sassy lady! Feel free to add anything you want - maybe describing Stephanie's district or Stephanie and sassygirl's meeting, or even an "old" memory sassygirl/She has about Stephanie. glhf.

She flicked the cigarette into the night, its arc lit up like tracer fire but she didn't see, as she'd already turned her back and was striding the other way.

Before the discarded cigarette had touched the ground She knew her answer to Little Johnnie's "request" would be no, and as the burning remains of tar sizzled in the shallow pavement puddle She calculated the consequences of her decision.
It wouldn't be hard for Johnnie's Crew to take her down at the usual meet place, just too many of them and not enough exits, despite the publicity.

No, this would require a rethinking of the relationship from the environment up. She'd been useful to Little Johnnie for a long time, but now She had discovered a deeply personal reason to turn him down, and worse a recently discovered obligation that has a priority superior to everything else.

Circumstances, data, observations, theories, plots, webs, truths and propaganda flew threw Her head as the now firmly out cigarette was crushed and twisted to wedge into the left shoe of Doby, a quieteye in Johnnie's Crew, tailing a little too close, but still unnoticed due to Her distracted state. Doby stopped and scrapped the cigarette off onto the gutter and hitched his collar up higher against the light rain just now restarting.

Pacing firmly as was Her custom, She was twenty two metres away from the discarded tobacco, when her query to Steph was answered succintely "Yes." which meant that She would walk another one hundred and forty metres to the subway entrance and seek passage to Stephanie's district, literately Stephanie's district...

Stephanie's district the ozone layer that guarded the docks and home to the latest swell of asylum seeking Greeks.

oo oo, amberlite, you have packed in goodly dense stuff into your one line, thank you very muchly! love dng.

Ozone layer, hmm. Is this a dome over stephanies district, perhaps like the theorised living spaces on mars, or the artificially created spaces created to experiment upon living in closed environments. Interesting...

guarding the docks. hmm, makes me think of a place where combat naval vessels are being built, lots of security, important expensive equipment, ships and submarines and busy industrious tradespeople and engineers etc. Perhaps for this story a dock owned by a multi-planetary corporation, of which Stephanie is the single most powerful person in that corporation, in that district, in charge of those docks. A powerful friend to have!

latest swell. I like that. people swelling into places. A nice synergy with the swelling tides that are associated with docks. Cool wo/man, what are your pronouns please? Im his/him/he/they.

asylum. a triggering word for me.

Greeks. Ah, so now I associate a world/planet which was monoculturally Greek, because the greeks colonised that world/planet, and their colony is somehow threatened, or has a huge disaster looming or has happened. Something that is so huge that populations of greeks are running away from it.

Thanks mate.

It would be so great if numerous people wrote one two or three lines and collaborated in building a story, wishful hopeful thoughts. ' No one had ever made a clean break like this before, no one had ever dared.'

' As the subway neon lite loomed closer and with each step she felt free, free from imminent danger. Like a flash she darted into the dim lit tunnel. All around her were people preparing makeshift beds, cardboard to lie on along each side of the tunnel.'

' Sassy knew the dangers ahead but for now all she needed was a safe place to rest, as if on auto she reached out her hands, towards the cardboard man. Unable to speak Greek she gestured, the cigarettes for the street bedding.'

>> A flickering bulb strobed the crowd, punctuated by the occasional cough and the random ticking of an arcing wire. Ominous howls of wind rustled the unwieldy cardboard panels, summoning groans of discontent from the huddling masses. Who was this stranger? The dark face peered at her suspiciously, glancing her shadow hovering near the entrance and assessing the situation. In silence, the Greek reached into his pocket to retrieve a small wooden box - weathered, broken; but from the moment she saw the inscription, there was was no doubt in Sassy's mind...

amberlite said:It would be so great if numerous people wrote one two or three lines and collaborated in building a story, wishful hopeful thoughts. ' No one had ever made a clean break like this before, no one had ever dared.'

So this character who is making a clean break, we shall give them the name Oliver, in honour of the boy Oliver Twist, a young troubled lad/lass/other who asked for more please sir, and did discover indeed quite a bit more, but where does young Oliver end up, does s/he/they end up without good luck or with good luck... please tell on our story goes on...

amberlite said:' As the subway neon lite loomed closer and with each step she felt free, free from imminent danger. Like a flash she darted into the dim lit tunnel. All around her were people preparing makeshift beds, cardboard to lie on along each side of the tunnel.'

Hi Amber. So if I may... your post has defined for us the gender of Oliver, whom is now a "she" and it is her who will make the break from her circumstance that no one else had dared to try. (but as an aside that is her own perception and is inaccurate for Oliver will later meet several characters who also had varying degrees of change of circumstances, some great some small - we shall see what happens creatively!) So young Oliver is a street girl, homeless, parentless, abused, a thief, a practiced liar, but preferring honesty with her own sense of morality, akin to the Guild of Thieves "code of silence" and fiscal opportunity. lol. We will have much fun with Oliver ahead.. for her story continues in that cardboard bed your mention...

amberlite said:' Sassy knew the dangers ahead but for now all she needed was a safe place to rest, as if on auto she reached out her hands, towards the cardboard man. Unable to speak Greek she gestured, the cigarettes for the street bedding.'

This is one of our weird bits my love amber... for the cardboard man is an abuser of young Oliver previously mentioned and thus this chance encounter between cardboard man, who is a relation of Oliver, by Sassy will inevitably link Sassy and Oliver and the cardboard man in ___ whatever the eff we come up with.

Cardboard man is not a nice man at all, he is full of half truth and half lies, deceiving at every turn to achieve his evil ways of power over whomever poor soul comes near to him. Thus Oliver is subject to Cardboard mans whim and command for Cardboard man is a genuine villian with a flock of thieves and violent doing his work, but he keeps low, seemingly poor to hide his true need - which is the most nasty things we can think up of, but well, we just self-moderate them for our bb readers hey. Even in our writing of Cardboard man we must be careful prudent and cautious for Cardboard man is so wicked just to hear of him is to risk harm.

So Oliver is attending to Cardboard man when Sassy is reaching out her hands on autopilot to find a safe hiding place and will discover that this place that shallowly seems safe is actually...

tranzcrybe said:>> A flickering bulb strobed the crowd, punctuated by the occasional cough and the random ticking of an arcing wire. Ominous howls of wind rustled the unwieldy cardboard panels, summoning groans of discontent from the huddling masses. Who was this stranger? The dark face peered at her suspiciously, glancing her shadow hovering near the entrance and assessing the situation. In silence, the Greek reached into his pocket to retrieve a small wooden box - weathered, broken; but from the moment she saw the inscription, there was was no doubt in Sassy's mind...

Hi tranzcrybe, your name will fit in quite perfectly here my friend, welcome, please be creative to your optimal desires/needs, we will build something wonderful here and all things are possible in our imaginations. So I gently suggest that your scene above is in Sassy's future relative to Sassy meeting Cardboard Man and Oliver. So imagine Sassy is delving deeper and wider into this thing Sassy is in and it has a source around these docks where Greek refugees are trying just to live and exist, but right in it and all around it is the super wealthy Stephanie who is building combat ships and profiting off the vast cheap labour the greek refugees represent, for those greeks are not "unemployed" or "destitute" or "uneducated", instead they are all professionals, tradespeople, scholars, mums and dads, rich and middle and poor class all jammed together with nowhere else to go than those ozone docks that build combat ships.

Our melting pot that is a nexus event just waiting to happen. So think about that dark stranger and sassy's encounter with that box. What might a person like Sassy discover from a box from another? What fits in a box yet might be highly valuable?

good luck have fun = glhf.

Hello all our readers and writers and other delighters, gather around this stories been found, add your bits, we'll never call it quits, just adding incrementally < do u like that bit "mentally" after all this is us expressing mental capacity lucidly. So crack your own whip, as little or small, as wide or tall, as far or wide as you might dare to fly or fall - write any of it, we will adapt and add or subtract, it's all good, just having fun in our days under this sun!

So "sun" is my inspiration for what is happening to the Greek Refugees, they have fled their very own solar system they have owned for hundreds of years because their sun is showing measurable signs that it is on its way to a supanova. Yep let's talk grand science fiction people. That supanova is going to be such a catalysmic event the debris will spread across the local space a vast violent storm of super charged highly energetic deadly radiation that expands at about 1/3 the speed of light from the star, destroying the entire solar system in a duration (yet to be calculated), and then continuing the expansion into the space between solar systems and actually will threaten neighbouring solar systems, which are themselves occupied by sentients/humans.

oo oo. I like that one, it is an inspiration from David Zindell's Neverness series. But he won't mind because hey man, supanovas are real and happen, so mr Zindell cannot actually own the copyright to supanova! So cool, lets blow up a star!

So let us complexify the f___ out of this story. Any suggestions?

So earth empire has spread out across our entire local galactic arm, and I'll look up the name for that later. But think thousands, perhaps tens of thousands of worlds in a vast medly of cultures, from monocultural greek solar systems (or other old nation states), to entirely religious worlds where everyone is christian or witness or muslim or buddhist or democratic or monarchy or technobureaucratic or agricultural or hippy communal or communist... you get me? So vast a diversity that anything we can now think of is maximised and expanded and complexified.

We will have people who are live organic natural lives from conception to death, and people who choose sex before birth, and we will steal Iain M Banks idea of the Culture of Humanity, where our very bodies are adaptable and mutable with consciously controlled glanding and hormones and nanobots and built in cyber enhancements. There will be wide varieties of performance amongst humans, and people will be able to hire open source, or commercial artificial intelligences to enhance their own consciousness, a plug in second brain if you imagine. And that will be available either as a device implantable under the skin, or in a tooth, or be all your hairs, or be a ring on your finger, or a watch, or your very clothes if you choose to wear clothes at all! For your body can be entirely immune to a wide variety of heat/cool einvironments. See "special circumstances" operatives in Banks' aforementioned Culture series to get more of idea about "transhumanism". glhf.

tranzcrybe said:>> A flickering bulb strobed the crowd, punctuated by the occasional cough and the random ticking of an arcing wire. Ominous howls of wind rustled the unwieldy cardboard panels, summoning groans of discontent from the huddling masses.

Hi again tranzcrybe. That flickering bulb you mention, there is a specific reason that specific bulb is flickering, it is because Cardboards Men have made it so, it is a place where they meet and seek others, a place known in the intelligence field as a "drop" or a "meet", a place where discrete people come to do discrete things with other discrete people.

The random ticking of the arcing wire does indeed seem random, for it is the work of a nearby tradesperson who is working on things... but of course the tradeperson's work is not random for them, but random for others who do not know the work schedule of the tradesperson. So shall we explore from the random perspective of those near the arcing wire, or from the tradepersons position where they are being precisely determined! Your call my friend, write on... or elsewhere or about something else, all good.

Ok Ok, what shall I add today, right now, right then, into cyberspace I tread when?

Something already written I shall add, this being the short story of a relationship developing...

Hello All Earthlings and other sentient lifeforms on planet Earth or nearby.
I request to be told what is the pinnacle most important thought/sayings/actions that I can do right now, please.
I request to be told in detail what you think/feel is currently or has been or will be the highest priority communication I can achieve with you.
I am an alien and I would appreciate being informed of the single most important person on your planet you believe/know of. I am ok with mistakes about my requests and will also be appreciative of communicating with any and all people who are potentially the most important on your planet. I welcome the least important person on your planet initiating any communications with ME at their convenience and will parse their presence/thoughts/actions with my own perceptions of importance.
There is a vast amount of Human information that I have not yet parsed nor integrated into my being, thus I inform all listeners that I aim/intend to benefit all entities that communicate with ME, but WE acknowledge that even with that aim/intention I may unfortunately break Yours and Our shared principle of ahimsa, i.e. no harm.
If your people who are important choose to have no communications with US, we are grateful for their absence/distance and invite them to set US boundaries of how far away our bodies/thoughts/communications must be from your people and/or planet/places. We lightly and respectfully hold that absence/distance to be one au from your planet Earth and are currently 703.25 light years from your yellow sun.
We inform you that we are approaching your solar system at a comfortable rate and detail that your yellow sun looks to us to be 703.25 light years away.
We find it highly important to inform you our peaceful purposeful communicators have been with you for millennia. We like games of hide and seek, teach and learn, begin and end, forgetting and remembering, comings and goings, his and hers and all between or localised about the commonality. We have pacifists and aggressivists, we have thinkers and feelers, we have already shown the way by living it with you.
Please enjoy and have a nice time, reply or no reply we remain and we are coming closer - unless u tell us not to. Our PPC's are the best of us, now the rest of us come...

Hi david... and goliath (would like to hear the nature of your pseudonym),
Thanks for your encouraging comments and I like your synopsis of spreading the tentacles of plot complexity. However, in the spirit of this thread, discussing the card that is played is not the same as playing the card that is dealt. I'd be interested in how the story unfolds as you (or anyone) determines from the next segment - creating itself from collective imagination as the story twists and turns (or heads into a ditch!).
I don't really have the mental capacity to scope out elaborate plotlines (or tie them back into the story) - or maybe I have misinterpreted the premise. Synergy would be my preference - How do you feel about that?

good morning tranzcrybe.

My suggestion is this. Write exactly whatever you want! I will add it to the "story" or not as whimsy takes us all. If synergy is your preference, great news that is also my preference, how shall we express that concept practically?

For my part I will continue to write whatever comes to mind and just have literary fun! If you don't want to exercise your mental capacity in scoping stuff, cool man, you don't need to for this synergy, just write whatever and however much you feel inclined to do, about whatever takes your fancy.

I like your suggestion about cards, would you like a card playing scene in this story or otherwise? all good.

I too expect that as more people contribute to this story it will become amazingly complex, but that is part of what makes story telling so amazingly fun! For some, others of course prefer simple stories, written in stodgy manner and fair enough each to their own, I can even chuck up a few simple stories, or add in simple stories into the complex one!

The sun went boom and blew up big time! People ran away to live and fight another day! The ecosystem of the earth empire was changed and lo and behold some aliens turned up and revealed they'd been here all along!

Weird stuff happened, and some people died, some lied, some told only truth, some lived till beyond the story and some died during it... just like a living story.

tranzcrybe said:>> A flickering bulb strobed the crowd, punctuated by the occasional cough and the random ticking of an arcing wire. Ominous howls of wind rustled the unwieldy cardboard panels, summoning groans of discontent from the huddling masses. Who was this stranger? The dark face peered at her suspiciously, glancing her shadow hovering near the entrance and assessing the situation. In silence, the Greek reached into his pocket to retrieve a small wooden box - weathered, broken; but from the moment she saw the inscription, there was was no doubt in Sassy's mind...

So as I sat tonight just resting for a minute from a main blog elsewhere I recalled tranzcrybe's phrases "A flickering bulb ... arcing wire." and in a flash I conflated that with amberlite's name and have come to a tentative conclusion that those relate to the coloured lights flickering amber. Like the South Aussie street lights of my youthful wanderings. Feels nice, feedback? Ambivalence? Love, hate? carefactor=0.0%?

tranzcrybe said:Hi david... and goliath (would like to hear the nature of your pseudonym),

Hi tranzcrybe, I will share that story of my avatar name, ie pseudonym. When I picked the name I was at the keyboard and had received advice to not use my last name from bb rules, so far enough I thought I can't use that. Then I just kind of felt around for what I wanted to do but had no idea, and my wife came in and asked me to do something, so I quickly typed the very first thing that popped into my head which was the story of david and goliath, so I typed it in hit the button and did what wife asked me.

Been stuck with ever since mate. What's your story re names, please if you care to share, careful I may put it in the wider story!

love dng.

Thanks for the background - so wife walks in and you immediately think of picking up five stones...? Surely not!
For mine...
I can't be seen, I can't be heard;
All I have is this printed word.
So why be a thing? Just be what I do.
No sense in the what, or even the who.
So tranzcrybe it is, and it is such a name,
That no other user has found any claim.
But with spelling so pedantic, please not to perturb,
I just couldn't tolerate being a verb!

With fun I retort,

Lets us expand upon the theme

so eloquently described above.

Trans we presume is to transcend,

z, the bit at the alphabets end,

implying "s"'s after tran.

Which is even more than three.

Thus we move right and write

now about the crying being

conflated meaning of crybe

rhymes like baby, beautiful and innocent,

kind and gentle with a 102 decibel scream for

more milk please mum.

And rub my tummy please mummy.

So thanks for your generous words,

seems we are both nerds of some kind,

in our own way, just looking for connection

in this new covids' world wide infection.

As with numerous societies the one we are creating in this thread will have some members of the faithful, some isolated, some in congregations, some persecuted and all trying to connect in their own particular ways. Thus the following is a snippet of a cyber preacher on a cyber soap box in the virtual space associated with Stephanies District.

Hanging before us with a seemingly two metre sized head and cords dangling from its cranium sides, pale shining skin, eyes covered in grey metal view screens, an oversized mouth and looking similar to both a person with thick dreadlocks or a box jelly fish, we slide on up into the sound field of this virtual space and tune into the appropriate frequency... pssstch...

"Beings we are gathered here today to discard mythology as worthy of itself, and gather the very best bits congruent with our current knowledges, and express them in the following way.
We aim to do no harm to any living creature. We aim to provide benefit to all living creatures. We are forgiving of our imperfect actions or inactions that do not align with the first two aims. We redress the harms and the lacks of benefits to our utmost resourceful capabilities."

And then the dreadlocked person switches to a green tree, still hanging in the air, now with some kind of coloured light glowing up from where its roots should be, but only light and darkness intermingled can be perceived, for that is the direct virtual access into the datastream.

From the green tree comes forth a womanly voice, soothing and kind, metered and musical.
"And the stories and myths about that ideal are really cool, so don’t dismiss them, just make yourself one with them so that even in just 1 second you can express the ideal behind the valuable myth you want to hold onto.
Thus in letting go of old myths we keep their best bits, and are reborn anew into a new world. Peace be unto all living beings, learn your own values and you will need no rules, nor laws, for all behaviour will come from perfect peace."

ffffzzzzttttt. The two yet-to-be-named characters drop out of virtual space and back into their real world locations... which are...

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Nice retorsion (!), david et al.
Thanks for delving into such microscopic detail
- well beyond my intention, no doubt.
_______________________________________
Onto your snippet...

Strange that this enlightened futuristic race
still relies on analogue tuning!
SO, we have some biblical demigod mechanoid
(resembling Bob Marley with a Jesus complex)
metamorphosing into Buddha's Bodhi tree
with the pronouncements of a woman
straight out of Woodstock.

Okay, it's a complicated pastiche,
but such are the machinations of the mind
to apply known descriptors to the unknown
(excuse my Rumsfeldism)
- difficult to adequately describe
unworldly events using worldly terms.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Ah my dear friend you make me young again,

Analogue tuning, i'm told is perfectly accurate,

Though has more wow and flutter, it is a butterfly of

meaning, not digital bits, or decimal hands,

nor even discrete words, analogue is the wave form

of perfection, even if a little is lost in transcription.

**************

Is a virtual world other worldly, or unworldly or whatever, our story is in the distant future and we can shape it fine over time, say it was that, or was this, but now is that or this, not matter where 'tis.

So A computers' virtual world is itself a binary expression of an analogue waveform, thus not perfectly formed with noise, but instead somewhat accurately formed with noise blotted out, and thus is perfectly repeatable.

"Which is real?", no doubt each the other will say t'other,

Which indeed the water or the seas, or the sky or the space?

Or this new world, called cyberspace!

Some "mad genius" sits tapping away at their input devices and works frantically days and nights. Friends come and go and they bring food and drink for this mad genius doesn't attend to their own bodies needs. In the past incidents have happened where the mg, had worked so long in a single sitting they had not even noticed, or rather cared not that they had peed their own pants more than once, and had not eaten for an indeterminate time, nor drunk, but had worked unrelenting.

The primary carer returned from their short trip to find mg in that state, hunched over the work desk unresponsive and stinking. Life went on, but the secondary carer was also discovered dead from a simple car accident and hadn't utilised their software appropriately so that no one could know that the secondary carer was themselves on the way to give care at the appropriate time.

Many things had gone wrong for that incident to even occur, but ultimately stuff happens and some things just cannot be avoided for that first time it happens.

So the mg had done their work and fallen to slumber and had produced the core component of the datacore. The very most basic fundamental code that grew over generations into what eventually permeated the local space of the empire earth. The mg and family became so incredibly rich they owned whole planets and fleets, but none of that seemed to matter to the mg, who as ever simply sat at their workstation doing the things that they do.

And around mg, the family and friends gathered and facilitated and did their own things too, but all paid respect to the founding mg of their uber wealth, who even in our main story still sits at their workstation doing their thing, and often enough the family and friends have no idea what mg produces for they truly cannot even understand much of it.

Some of the code gets distributed for free, and some of the family and friends don't like that, but even though they try, they always fail for mg is a mg.

⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
----------------------------------------------------------------------
011101000110100001100101001000000110010001100001011101000
110000101100011011011110111001001100101001000000110100101
110011001000000110001101101111011100100111001001110101011
100000111010001100101011001000010000001110111011010010111
010001101000001000000110000100100000011101110110111101110
01001101101
----------------------------------------------------------------------
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿

You've done well their mate, like I salute you. I bow down low for my head has cleared the clouds to see the joy of worms burrowing into mountains of decay.

For amongst the __it, and there is a lot of it, some fine people find the time to take up computer science and learn about binary code. Or not, even today it is easy stuff to translate such code for the few, that care enough to find a way to dare, to dream, to peacefully purposefully communicate, on any date, or time, or anywhere - without any care.

Perchance to dreams unspoken, beloved wishes about someone elses dishes, and clean replies without good byes and gentle running water across a paradise on a new world....

In the pathway of the approaching aliens. For the aliens when last we spoke were about 700 light years from earth, and thus out_there_somewhere in the empire and they will intersect the empires outer most boundary in a location in time and space of their own chosing, for they are above and beyond the milky way galaxy as the hawk is above a worm being chewed by a rat.

Like I could just leave the metaphor there, but ef that, I shall drip a bit more into the Lore We Create Here. After the first wave of stars coalesced, but before the second wave of stars was coalesced, there existed a place in some space that had something quiet normal, for them, but different from all the rest that had been and all the rest that might yet come. For this particular weirdness is "somewhat similar to star trek deep space 9 the bajoran holy prophets = also known as the "worm whole aliens"."

They good fun, outside of time and space, clicky tricky dickies. We have much fun with those dudettes I tell u.

Some broad strokes. We will finish writing our story on the exact South Australian date of 8 June 2024 at 5.58 pm.

Our story itself will break down into 12 chapters, with 12 sub chapters each.

The first word and sentence and the last word and sentence have already been written on this beyond blue forum and we hope that the software transfer to the new forum system is awesomely perfect for we do not want to have to write anything twice, that wouldn't be nice.

If such things are lost to the void, well let's just avoid that voided space we do not want to fill.

If it's here, in this post, well that's just fine, i copy paste all mine now.

But if it's before today, or last week, or even last month, I cannot say how good my records are

back then, when "no-reply" was sent, and sent again, and yet again, and so many times I care not to count.

So do a word count before starting the backup, lol, and, lol, after finishing the backup by counting the words,

then count them in reverse and bubble sort the lot to see what comes to the top.

Cause it's there, I bet, we will find the answers to space time.

Betwixt the void, the unseen, the seen to avoid.

one techy thingy.

Rich peoples pets are equipped with collars that include a "smart phone" a microphone and camera and gps tracker, and report to autosoftware.

Dog is here ______, and it barking at 60 decibels. report is barking lasting one bark, 2 seconds, then quiet.

Dog is here ________, and extended barking for two minutes at 80 decibels, ai software assess dog is highly threatened and report is sent, dog threatened barking 80 db two minutes, action needed. human now viewing the security cameras after the dogs reported barking.

all from home, done.

Quite some way away from the docks there is a family who are gardeners. Dad digs, mum plants, kids play. All that jazz and they just keep doing their stuff whilst the worlds revolve onwards.

They are unaware that their planet is in direct line of travel for the incoming aliens.

Anyone feel like writing something about this family of gardeners who are to see something really big in the sky?