The green man moved into the city slowly, not sure how or if he'd be able to find a home. He shifted himself thin through weeds that grew up in the cracks of the sidewalks, and he spread himself in great leaps across the trees that dotted the streets. He scowled at a highway and a bridge with nothing living on it, but the green dash of graffiti that spread across it like a growing vine was, he found, close enough to allow contact. That was the key, when he figured it out. The graffiti might not be a truly living, growing thing like what he was used to, but it did grow and spread, it was temporary, and he supposed it would even mostly go away in the winter, going into hibernation until the weather was good again. He found a garage with some ancient, ugly graffiti on it. It would only remain because the owner was too lazy to clean anything off. He could take up undisturbed residence here, if he chose. He did so choose. He had plans for this city, after all.


Inspiration: Photo of a Green Man graffiti painting on a garage door, at http://www.flickr.com/photos/shirleysvision/12802481225/in/explore-2014-02-26
Story potential: High.
Notes: High mostly because what plans would a Green Man have? Note: tone not good. Need something more personal, probably from a human POV, to open.

He saw the chaos around him and tilted his head to the side, perceiving and creating patterns of viewing that would be most pleasing. "Move that stone two feet to the left," he ordered, and his robot creaked over and did as he requested. He stared upwards at the tree branches. They filled a loose definition of order, if he cut down one of the trees and turned it into a five-pointed star of blue sky above him. Then the swirl of birds plunged through the opening and nested in the doomed tree. Their spiral was perfectly harmonious, and he gasped at its beauty. What an interesting twist, that what was at first unharmonious should be what created the greater interest.

Inspiration: "Creativity is the ability to introduce order into the randomness of nature."
—Eric Hoffer (This is what happens when I randomly google 'random'.)
Potential: Low.
Notes: Eh. It's an interestingly different way of looking at creativity, but this story failed to introduce order into the randomness of freewriting. ;)

The stained glass window in the old church looked as if somebody had lobbed a grenade through it, and the explosion had blown out all the glass. There were a few scorched edges still embedded in the frame, but every single other piece of glass was gone. Constable Drury scratched his head. "Well," he said, "what did they take?" "Nothing!" said the priest. "I'd say it was vandals, but it's most peculiar...most peculiar indeed. Every single piece of glass from the windows is gone. There are no pieces of broken glass anywhere!" "Would that have been difficult?"


Inspiration: Continuing the Stained Glass Harvest theme.
Story Potential: Medium.
Notes: Could be either a cozy mystery, or a conspiracy theory/occult thriller.