Between Blinks
Act II: Making
About this story
A story about making something from nothing. You discover that the first try might wobble, the second try might surprise you, and both are part of how creating works.
Story Excerpt
"You’re not making what you meant to make. But everything you make is surprising. And interesting. And yours."
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This story is called Between Blinks.
You open your eyes.
Nothing.
Not dark nothing. Not empty nothing. Just... nothing that's waiting to be something. You're standing here, but there's no ground. You're not falling, but you're not exactly standing either. You just... are.
And you wonder: Can I make something? You try thinking really hard.
Tree, you think. TREE.
You wait.
Nothing happens. Maybe you have to say it out loud?
"Tree," you whisper.
The word floats away like a bubble, but nothing appears.
Hmm. What if you use your hands?
You reach out and make a shape in the air, like you're molding clay that isn't there.
For just a second, just a blink, you see something shimmer.
A shape. A glow. Then gone.
Wait. Did you just...?
You blink on purpose this time, keeping your hands in that shape.
When your eyes close, you picture it: something small and bright.
When you open them...
There!
Floating in front of you is a small glowing ball. Not a sun. Not a moon. Just... light that holds itself together like a tiny planet. You made that.
You reach out slowly and touch it.
It's warm. It hums. And when you move your finger, it follows, like it wants to stay close. You laugh, surprised and delighted.
The ball of light bounces a little, like it's laughing too.
Okay. So blinking works. Blinking and imagining together.
What else can you make?
You close your eyes and think about something to stand on.
You blink open.
There's ground now! But it's not... normal ground.
It glows. Soft purple, like the inside of a flower. And when you take a step, it ripples outward in circles, the way water does when you drop a stone in. You take another step. More ripples. The ground makes a quiet sound, like a bell that's very far away.
This isn't what you were picturing. But it's better.
You jump once.
The ground bounces you back up, not too high, just enough to feel like flying for half a second.
You land and the ground sings another note. A different one this time.
You jump again in a different spot. Another note.
Oh. You're making music with your feet.
What else?
You blink and imagine: something tall.
When you open your eyes, there's a tower!
But wait...
It's wobbling. Tilting to one side.
And then... it falls through itself and disappears.
Oh.
That didn't work.
You think about it. What went wrong?
Maybe you need to picture it staying? Picture it knowing how to hold itself up?
You close your eyes again.
This time you imagine: something tall that knows how to stand. Strong and steady.
You blink open.
There!
A tower appears, made of something soft. Like mist that decided to stack itself.
And this time, it stays.
You walk over and push against it gently.
Your hand goes through a little, but the tower holds. It's solid and not-solid at the same time.
You did it. You figured it out.
You try to climb it.
Your foot finds a step that appears just as you need it. Then another. Then another.
The tower is making itself as you climb, like it knows where you want to go.
At the top, you stop and look around.
The glowing ball of light is still following you. The purple ground ripples below. And in the distance... nothing yet. Just waiting-space.
What should go there?
You blink and imagine: water.
When you open your eyes, there IS water, but it's floating in the air in big, wobbly spheres, like bubbles made of rivers.
You reach out and touch one.
Your hand goes in and gets wet, but the sphere doesn't pop. The water wraps around your fingers, cool and curious.
When you pull your hand back, some of the water follows, making a thin stream in the air between you and the floating sphere.
You're not making what you meant to make.
But everything you make is surprising. And interesting. And yours.
You blink again and imagine: something living.
When you open your eyes, there's a creature.
It's small and round and covered in soft fur that glows at the tips. It has too many legs, maybe six? Maybe eight? You're not sure because they keep moving.
It looks up at you with eyes that are way too big and blinks.
Then it smiles.
Can creatures smile? This one does.
It hops over to the ball of light and starts playing with it, batting it back and forth between its many legs.
The ball of light seems happy about this.
You sit down on the cloud-tower step and watch your world.
The purple ground that sings. The floating water-spheres. The cloud-tower that builds itself after you tried twice. The small glowing creature playing with light.
None of it is what you planned.
All of it is more than you planned.
You understand something now.
When you make things, they don't always work the first time.
Sometimes they wobble. Sometimes they disappear.
But you can try again. You can think about what went wrong and try a different way.
And sometimes things turn out different than you pictured.
Sometimes they're strange. Sometimes they surprise you.
And that's okay too.
That's how making works.
You close your eyes one more time.
You think about tomorrow. About making things in your real world. With your real hands.
A drawing. A tower of blocks. A story. A song.
You remember: You can start. You can make the first thing.
And if it doesn't work the first time? You can try again.
And if it comes out different than you planned? That might be even better.
The small creature hops over and sits on your knee.
The ball of light floats closer and rests near your shoulder.
The purple ground hums a quiet note.
The world you made, unexpected and glowing and strange, holds you gently.
Tomorrow, you'll make something new.
And you'll remember: The power to begin is already inside you.
You just have to blink. And if it doesn't work? You blink again.
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Keep wondering
Wonder together
After the story ends, keep the conversation going.
What’s something you made that surprised you?
What do you see when you close your eyes?
Have you ever built something that started as just an idea?
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