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The Story:
Shuffling papers and turning his head revealed hidden sounds now amplified through headphones. The noise only made him more nervous—nervous that his voice would be cheesy or some odd lip smacking sound would be left in the final track. Anything could cause a distraction, and he wanted people to have his words without hindrance. Nothing could detract from the art.
His poetry had found its way all over the world but not from his voice. Inspired by the stories of desperate castaways, he began slipping short poems into an empty bottle and tossing them into the bay. They floated along currents, changed course in storms, and came to rest in the hearts of thousands.
He did as many as he could every day for over two years, and during the second year, the internet was buzzing with news of the Bottle Poet. There were people who searched for the lost bottles of the Bottle Poet, hoping to find poems that never found an owner.
He had become a silent celebrity, his poems a worldwide treasure hunt, which he liked, until his best friend began dating a girl who was a fan. His identity spread quickly, and the corporations came knocking.
Demand for his poetry in a broader format had convinced him to try recording it with a label, performing his poetry for the bottle-less masses. A music track began playing, and he began reading.
“The long winter / It forces me to huddle / Examines my outward struggle / Finds the crack leading inward / And just the right song to hinder / It loves…”
“Wait, wait, wait… Is this really what you’re recording today?”
A man in flip flops, rolled up jeans, and a sleeveless vest on the other side of a glass wall was speaking to him through his headphones.
“Is that a problem?”
“Look, man, the winter is… cool, I guess. But people wanna be angry or feel better about themselves and junk. Got anything like that?”
“I have what I feel,” the poet responded.
The label’s producer rubbed his eyes.
“Okay, let’s just… just record something for now.”
The poet thought hard before beginning a new poem.
“You see a dollar / I see change / You see a point / I see a range…”
Think this story should become a book or a short film? Let me know in the comments below!