Whenever I had trouble trying to sleep, when the sound of the waves alone failed to lull me to sleep, I would leave my bed and walk down to the bluffs where the wind-whistlers sat. I don't know who they were--or are, I suppose--because the ceramic whistling masks they wore covered their faces entirely. Even their ability to see was navigated by mirrors through a labyrinth of pipes. You could not simply glance at their eyes and know. And yet I never saw one lying fallen, broken on the shore, never saw one trip as it (and I would say he or she except it is impossible to tell) moved around. They wore the masks when they came out of the temple, and so you could never know if the people you saw go in went in simply to pray for luck or good trades or good weather or if they themselves were wind-whistlers. Enough went in that I was certain couldn't possibly be, that it was impossible to tell.


Inspiration: "Brain Stew" by Green Day + unsettling photo of person in windwhistler mask sitting beside some body of water: http://www.flickr.com/photos/67105066@N07/12435334803/in/explore-2014-02-10
Story potential: High.
Notes: Just--a weird obliteration of self, in order to find self. Has resonance.

By the mountain of fire and the fountain of spit, she found herself for the 10th time that day. She was a goblin, hovering crouched under the fountain as the pilgrims walked by. She found herself, and the goblin knew herself for a bit, and straightened up and stepped away, and chose to jump into the mountain of fire. The goblin part mewled with terror, but she knew herself and knew that fire would not destroy her. The goblin fell through the mountain, and then started to uncurl, limbs straightening, greasy hair singed away to show a face that was not malicious and stupid as others would have seen it. The fire did not burn the goblin's body, even when it splashed down into the molten sea--

Inspiration: "I Fire Myself" by Mary Timony
Story Potential: Low
Notes: I like the idea of finding "yourself" multiple times a day, in a fantasy setting, but this--no.

My coffers are empty, and with them the safety they could give. I've divested myself of all my worldly possessions, though some still sit in the rooms of my home, waiting for their buyers to come and take them away. You'd think this would make me a profit, but I'm sacrificing all that. I want none of the strings to bind me to the person I was, the past I lived, and the way I was. It takes seven years for every cell in your body to be replaced. I look forward to the end of those seven years. I don't dare accumulate things or belongings or a new nature until the time is up. Traces of the old me would linger. I'm probably risking myself just staying here long enough to make sure that everything--

Inspiration: "Extraordinary Way" by Conjure One
Story Potential: High.
Notes: Pilgrimage, sort of. Everything he acquires, he has to dispose of and change out. Nothing can be constant. Might be an interesting character for recurring stories. Also, I can tell committing so much time to editing has given me a real itch to write, because a large part of me is saying, "Yes! This! I could write this right now!"

I am the me that is there that is the me that I am and if you want to know me, you'll have to find where I am. He stared at the printed note in his hand. It wasn't a fortune cookie, it wasn't a threat, and it wasn't a love note--he thought. If it was a love note, he rather didn't want to get involved with whoever had sent it, because--she?--sounded crazy. Part of him thought the note was intriguing and the gender or nature or even existence of the creature that had sent it didn't matter, that all he needed was to follow that path back to the source and find out what it meant--or find out what sent it, which would mean that he'd have to find out where it was, because--

Inspiration: Chad posting a link to the Google map of where he was.
Story Potential: Medium.
Notes: Vaguely interesting, but nothing I feel compelled to pursue.

Takeoff on symbiote. Human intelligence augmented by computers considered sentient by aliens, but not without it. => What complications? Humans would have to keep computers with them at all times or would lose the rights of sentient beings. What if this is before symbiotic networks? Or widespread cybernetics? And if a virus destroys a computer, is the "sentient" entity dead? Must include equal courtesy to computer half of symbiote, included with ambassadorship. Humans abruptly non-sentient without their computers. Nature of humanity?
Keys: inferiority complex, respect, Munchhausen, identity crisis, phantom limb syndrome

This post brought to you by me getting my CONvergence-inspired ideas in the same place as the rest of them!