Jack and Tollers: Interactive Serial Story

Welcome to my newest interactive serial story, Jack & Tollers. (Extra points if you know why I chose those names!) Read the episode, choose option 1, 2, or 3, and I'll write the next episode based on the most popular choice.

A summary of what you should expect with Jack & Tollers: 

Jack has volunteered to be the main character in the book of his best friend, Tollers. As Jack maneuvers his way through the unfamiliar world that Tollers has created, he must mollify the wrath of the Editor, survive plot holes, avoid cliches, and strive to reach the climax successfully. Even with Tollers' help, none of that is easy...

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Episode 1
Handyman

​"So how, exactly, does this work?" Jack inquired. "And stop looking at me like that. It's like you're calculating how to kill me off. I really hope that is not part of the plot."

Tollers laughed. "I am ​always​ calculating. But I have no intention of killing you off." He paused, scratching at the two-day stubble on his chin, and appraised his friend again. "There's some risk, you know."

"You've been saying that since the beginning and I haven't scared off yet, have I? Just give me the summary and the rules."

So saying, Jack folded his arms. It all felt rather anticlimactic. Here he was, poised on the edge of a great adventure and the surroundings were distinctly ordinary. He stood on the maroon rug in the center of Tollers' personal library, surrounded by books with dusty pages, used mugs whose rims showed the stains of dried coffee, and scattered notebook sheets and sticky notes scribbled with ideas. In the corner of the library stood a wooden desk and a newly-sharpened pencil--the instrument of his future transformation.

"Well, the summary is subject to change," Tollers said cheerily. "Plots tend to modify themselves, especially when the story is character-driven, but here's the best I've got so far: You are the hero in an epic adventure involving fighting, torture, revenge, giants, monsters, chases, escapes, true love, miracles.​.."

"Hold on. True love? Is this is a kissing book? Because, if it is, I'm out of here."

"No, not if you don't want it to be! I mean, a lot of it is up to you."

"Torture? That's part of the plot too? I'm not keen on it."

Tollers sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes momentarily. "Look, this is like nothing you've ever experienced before. You are the main character. When I write you in, ​anything​ can happen. You direct the action and shape the story. Most main characters do, you know, even when the author has some plot in mind. You'll have to McGyver your way through the story. When you get into a pickle, I can help you out in little ways. Give you an idea. Ensure that you have the exact skill necessary to affect your escape. Make sure your pocket has a random key in it to unlock your dungeon door..."

"Dungeon?"

"...send in a side character to pull you out unexpectedly. But if I do something too obvious or cliche, the Editor will show up and who knows ​what​ he'll do."

"So the Editor is the villain?"

"Noooo, he's more like a fairy godmother gone really wild. He can make your dearest dreams come true or he can leave you in a bog to find your own way out."

"Then the villain is...?"

"You don't know yet. Even I hardly know."

"Good gravy, you writers are so hard to pin down. You said anything can happen. Can I die?"

"Well, as the main character, the likelihood of dying is small, but it has happened before. If it does happen though," Tollers added hastily, as Jack's jaw hardened, "I can always find some clever way to resurrect you. The Editor hates that--revivals are so cliche now--but, I mean, it'd be better than staying dead..."

His voice petered off as Jack stared hard at him. 

Then Jack broke into a quick, mischievous grin. "Don't look so worried, Tollers. I wouldn't have signed up for this adventure if I wasn't ready for it."

"I'm glad you trust me."

"I didn't say I trusted you. I said I was ready. But I do mean it about the kissing."

Tollers expelled a long breath and his laugh was strained. "I'm all nerves. But I always get like that when I first start out. Are you ready?"

He crossed the room to his desk, seated himself, and waved his pencil aloft. Jack lifted his hand to his brow in mock salute. "We who are about to die salute you."

"Drama and dry wit," Tollers mused. "I do think the readers will love you. And"--his pencil descended toward the blank notebook page--"here we go!"

Jack experienced a peculiar rush of movement that twisted in his stomach, as though he were on an elevator dropping twenty floors a second, then whirling round corners at break-neck speed. Then he discovered that his body was suspended in water and his lungs burned for air. The taste on his tongue was salt.

The ocean. Interesting. What was Tollers up to?

The churning bubbles around him utterly disoriented his sense of direction, so he paused momentarily to evaluate the natural drift of his body. When his belly lifted in one direction, he mentally labeled that direction as "up" and struck out toward it, spearing through the water with powerful strokes and vicious kicks. Good thing he was an excellent swimmer in real life. He had no idea if Tollers' promise that he could imbue Jack with all necessary skills would prove to be true.

Jack broke the surface with a deep-lunged gasp and was almost at once submerged by a wave. Kicking his way back to the surface, he was able to hold himself above the chopping waves and survey his surroundings.

A ship. Excellent.​

It was a slender ship, with a curving prow carved in the likeness of a hawk with outspread wings. The pennant colors--black, green, white, and yellow--had no meaning for Jack. But there was something odd about the ship... Jack could not quite place it.
Jack waved and someone on the deck waved back. Without further ado, Jack thrust himself through the water toward the ship, hopeful that the stiff wind would not carry the ship out of his reach. To his surprise, the ship shifted direction toward him almost at once and powered through the waves.

Within a few moments, Jack was close enough to discern faces amongst the ship's crew, half of whom wore only trousers under torsos bronzed with the sun. One of the men threw a length of rope to Jack and, after three attempts, Jack managed to grasp it and began to haul himself along it. The men on the ship pulled the rope hand-over-hand until Jack reached the railing, where many strong hands grasped him and pulled him onto the deck.

"Thanks," Jack gasped, leaning over his knees to catch his breath.

"What is your name, stranger?" asked the foremost of the sailors, a man with gray, close-cropped hair, a pointed beard, and a single ring of gold in one earlobe.

"Jack," Jack replied. 

"Only that?"

"Well, if you want to be proper, it's Jack Lloyd Alexander. What about you?"

"I am Ciprian Tandario Araby, son of Kirilith Ulembra Tebor, a water-skiller from Rilling-by-the-Sea of Evereet."

"You don't say. I'll just call you Ciprian." Jack spat the salt taste from his mouth and wiggled a finger in his left ear.

"You did not say where you were from, Jack Lloyd Alexander, nor what your occupation is."

"Jack will do. I'm from western Massachusetts, and I'm a handyman."

"I have not heard of this skill. What magic is in hands?"

"Uh... I'm sorry, I don't quite follow."

"I am a water-skiller, like my father. I can bend the virtues of water to my will."

Suddenly Jack recognized the aspect of the ship that had seemed so odd to him before. "No sails. You are powering the ship by your will?"

"Yes, Jack from Western Mass-Will-Choose-It."

"Massachu... Never mind."

"This handyman, what power is it?" Ciprian asked. "I have never heard of a hand-skiller, nor know what that may be. You will excuse my impertinence, but your hands look quite ordinary."
​
"Oh, but looks are deceiving," Jack said. The moment had come--the moment when Jack took control of his destiny and Tollers wrote the story as Jack dictated it. This should be amusing.

Option 1
Jack held out his hands toward Ciprian, opening his fists like flowers. "So long as I keep my fist closed upon it, I can keep anything I like in my left hand. I can keep the wind of a hurricane, ready to be released at my will. I can keep the light of a thousand fireflies, ready to light my way. I can keep the water of a river, the roar of a lion, the smoke of a fire... All to be used as I see fit."

Option 2
Jack smiled. "The power is not in my hands, Ciprian, but in the hands of others. I can, temporarily, borrow the skills of another person. For example, you are a water-skiller, so, if I wish, I can copy your skill and use it until midnight arrives. This ability to wield many skills is why some call me Jack-of-all-trades."

Option 3
Jack spread his hands outward. "I can grow as many hands as I wish. Believe me, it is a skill that comes in handy when you are climbing a cliff and fighting off flying monkeys, while simultaneously trying to keep your grip on the Ancient Artifact you stole from Mount Thunder."