Sentient Bromeliad

Take a deep breath, in… and out. Take another. Continue inhaling and exhaling deeply while you read this text. Pick up the nearest pencil and place it, point backwards, behind your right ear. Unless it would render you unable to continue reading, close your left eye tightly, scrunching your face on that side while trying to relax every muscle on the other side of your head. Maintain this expression while you choose a word from this list:
















Choose a number, reverse the digits in it and write the result down using your pencil in your non-dominant hand. Recycle the paper that you wrote on.

The next time you dream you will be presented with a choice. Do not take the fluttering egg. Whisper your number into the ear of whoever asked you to choose and plant the acorn they give you in a memory of your childhood. The next day treat yourself to something nice, you will have earned it.

Thankyou for doing your part in keeping the world safe, the veil down, and the dead where they should be.

In other news, and as we feared, a flower infected with earworm gained sentience this weekend. It is a very nice looking bromeliad in a large terracotta plant pot. We have given the bromeliad a few days to come up with a name for itself and offered it a job as a receptionist at the Archive. The bromeliad has already suggested that we move the Archive into audio, as flowers have no eyes to read with.

Please feel free to discuss your word and number in the comment section. The Archivist chose the word set, due to its aesthetic qualities being better than set, set or sett, but was not allowed to choose a number for reasons of interplane politics.

If you enjoy the story please leave the author a comment, as this makes him very happy. You can also help the Archive grow by crossing your fingers, whispering a secret to the screen in front of you and then voting at Top Web Fiction.


4 thoughts on “Sentient Bromeliad

  1. Sofa stood out as the most comfortable option, however I have since come to regret my decision in favour of Curmudgeon, an altogether more appropriate word in regard to my interactions with the Archivist and which I thus cannot help but believe would have had to a more satisfying effect.

    I expect to receive my recycled note in the form of a charm to protect against Dwarf infestation shortly however, so it’s too late to change now.

    Glory to the the centipede gods.



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