As the sun rose, Huinesoron rode his bicycle through the silent streets. The asphalt was damp, whether with dew or the night's rain, he didn't know and didn't much care. All he cared about was getting home: home to his wife, home to his son, and (last but not least) home to bed.
A sound caught his ear, and he stopped the bike, looking round. In one of the trees overhanging the road (and he remembered when there were far more of them) a bird was singing, welcoming the new day in its own way. Huinesoron smiled. 'I know how you feel,' he murmured. 'Have a good one.'
And he rode on.
That's fiction (I should know, and I've never done that), but it could be reality... let's see... this coming Thursday at the earliest (since I'm not cycling home until then). So what makes that different from LotR? Other than quality.
The exact words are: "There is nowhere, however huge the multiverse is, where Sam Vimes as he is now has murdered Lady Sybil."(Character Rupture in a nutshell) If my interpretation is correct, this... more
Your passage is firmly anchored in our reality. It's like something that you can find in a diary entry. LotR was written as fiction and intended to be interpreted as fiction. Rings of power, elves,... more
Would you allow the existence of an England where Jane Marple and Hercule Poirot solve murders? A star system where Mal Reynolds smuggles on the fringes of the law? A... er... something else where... more
...if it was written with the intent of being fiction, then it should be appreciated as such. It's not that I don't have an imagination, it's more like I alternate between two states of mind: serious ... more
Perhaps I should have just left this idea with myself. I'd like the believe that, somewhere, even as I type, Celestia and Luna lower their sun and raise their moon, changing day to night and hanging... more