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Toad Way split off from the merchant's district in Dragon Row, and that was where the sailors went. Sometimes sailors asked why the pleasure district's street name was Toad, but older hands took them aside quietly and explained about certain beneficial effects of toad-licking, and why you should avoid it, but why there were parlors dedicated to just that activity. Certain young sailors tried it. Some of them were able to put it aside and return to work and go on to create their own life as a sailor. Some of them never escaped it and spent their days in casual labor at the docks or, once they grew too decrepit for that life, begging so that they could chase the toad.


Inspiration: ChaoticShiny city generator
Story potential: Low.
Notes: Meh.
Maunsell Towers, The Thames

They'd been floating for three days when they saw the towers in the distance, and at first they thought it was salvation. Now and then, they'd sailed between islands and found one of these old structures left form before the great floods, or from during the forming, when Men tried to control how the world was shaping itself. Sometimes there were great stores of food inside, or technology that might still work if it had been sealed against the seawater and if it could accept the transformed power and if it wasn't dependent on the old world-net that had long since died and fragmented into a hundred tiny island nets, only a few of which were still connected by satellites. Every month or two, another satellite would plummet to land in the sea and then there would be old people shaking their heads and new islanders shrugging. The nets were designed for the break apart, these days, and one of their cargoes was data between islands, designed to plug in and update.


Inspiration: The photo above.
Story Potential: High.
Notes: I just like the setting and the idea of all these little islands. So this isn't really a story idea as such.
The boats came from all over the world to visit the last great land-city. Parents took their children, either because they thought it was important for the children to understand what had been lost, or because they thought it was like Disneyworld, a novel experience that every child should enjoy while they were still young enough. Walking on land, the strange vertiginousness of it, fascinated little kids. Even parents were brought back to their youth as they took the first few steps. Children gaped at the people who lived on the land-city year-round. Some poor souls paid exorbitantly because they had inner-ear imbalances that made normal life impossible, or because they were old and their bones were too fragile for heaving ship-decks. Some lived there so that they could work in the City That Never Moved. Those were all young, and brilliant, and beautiful, and amazingly talented. So it became a city of those who worked for the tourist trade or the very rich, and those who *were* the very rich, and infirm. As you might expect, certain relationships developed....


Inspiration: http://www.flickr.com/photos/masahk2009/7141678081/
Story Potential: High.
Notes: Love the idea of this as a setting. Maybe not on Earth, though. And Disneyland totally still exists.
I was a broken man on a Halifax pier, the last of the ship Nasty Nancy, and nobody would hire me again. Either they thought I was a jinx, or they thought I was mad (I'd been foolish enough to tell my story true when I returned), or they thought I was a murdering cannibal, because what other explanation could there be for me being the only one to return aboard a deserted, drifting ship with blood staining the deck? I'd been in jail and interrogated for almost a year until they finally realized that nothing would stick, since they hadn't found me picking my teeth with the captain's shinbone. After I told the truth (mostly), and realized finally that I wouldn't be believed--which I only realized once I'd been allowed to shower and sleep and eat and drink enough water to--well, I don't like phrases like that anymore.


Inspiration: "Barrett's Privateers" - Stan Rogers
Story Potential: High.
Notes: This isn't a story, itself, but it could become a rip-roaring yarn!

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penthius

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