Week 1, entry from April 28, 2009
Slip drew in his first, painful breath. He crawled across the dirty floor of the slig hatchery. To the slig guards, he was nothing more than another unit to boss around. But upon birth, Slip thought differently than any other slig. He was born, no, destined to be, something else: an artist. But there was no way for any mere slig to assume such a role. So Slip’s life would be full of lost hope and unanswered prayers.
Slip knew not where to go or what to do, he was crawling across the floor with no eyes or ears. Then he felt the grip of strong, tight hands. They squeezed him and lifted him off the ground. Slip struggled to break free. A sharp pain exploded through his face. Hundreds of needles priced his skin. He heard a little “Werrrrvvv,” it was the sound of a motor turning on. Then the most amazing thing happened... shapes and colors just appeared all around Slip. Also, he heard a droning noise. Slip sat in wonder...
“This one needs Special treatment...” said a slig captain, quite disgusted.
A large slig picked Slip up and carried him out of the room. Slip was mystified by the gloomy color of the hatchery. "I wonder," he thought, "If color can get any better." As if to answer his question, an exuberant advertisement overlooked the hall. It had a confusing series of symbols (These were called letters, apparently.) all in a strange purple tint. In the background, the sign displayed a mesmerizing swirl of a lime green and a blue. "Wow." Choked Slip. His first words.