I had so much fun with the last viral story (see Pickles the Duck on my sidebar for Evil Genius' mad threadgathering skills) that I was totally psyched when I saw there was a new one over at iSplotchy. However, I wasn't included on the original list of tagees. After whining in the comments, Splotchy relented and added me to the list. Here are the rules of the game:
Here's what I would like to do. I want to create a story that branches out in a variety of different, unexpected ways. I don't know how realistic it is, but that's what I'm aiming for. Hopefully, at least one thread of the story can make a decent number of hops before it dies out.
If you are one of the carriers of this story virus (i.e. you have been tagged and choose to contribute to it), you will have one responsibility, in addition to contributing your own piece of the story: you will have to tag at least one person that continues your story thread. So, say you tag five people. If four people decide to not participate, it's okay, as long as the fifth one does. And if all five participate, well that's five interesting threads the story spins off into.
Not a requirement, but something your readers would appreciate: to help people trace your own particular thread of the narrative, it will be helpful if you include links to the chapters preceding yours.
Here is the virus:
The bus was more crowded than usual. It was bitterly cold outside, and I hadn't prepared for it. I noticed that a fair number of the riders were dressed curiously. As I glanced around, I stretched my feet and kicked up against a large, heavy cardboard box laying under the seat in front of me. [Splotchy]
It meowed. I looked up to see if anyone noticed. In front of me, a head of gray curls turn slowly and rheumy eyes floated a death gaze in my direction.
"Sorry," I said, shrinking down into my seat.
"Hmph," she grunted and turned back around.
To hide my shame, I took a moment to dig in my messenger bag to find my sunglasses and, while I was at it, hand lotion. I found my shades, but the lotion was a problem. My hands were still half-numb and cracked from my sojurn to the busstop and my 45 minute wait and so I kept fumbling. Eventually I found the lotion and put my sunglasses on. With my prying eyes covered, I was free to begin to stare at people. I squirted lotion on my hands while I looked around. Everyone was wearing backless, blanket-robes. The sleeves were bell-shaped and the fleece robes went all the way to the floor. These people look like they escaped from Logan's Run. I closed the cap of the bottle and returned it to my bag. I began to rub the lotion into my hands.
As my hands warmed and began to feel some relief, I began to feel claustrophobic.