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The following writings are short stories I wrote based off regular things I saw around the city by imagining a day in the life of so-and-so object. Following my theme of personification, I purposefully framed it so that the inanimate nature of the narrators was left ambiguous. Without the image of the original object, only certain details of the story bely the fact that the character is not entirely human–for example, by referencing time and how these things do not age. 

The stories were presented in a book format.

The Mailman

It’s a slow day for both of us. But then, it usually is.  There’s little to break up the tedium as I sit here by the curb with my neighbor day in day out. I’ve been here so long a layer of dirt dusts the inside of my mouth. Surely I’m a minor landmark by now, for one person at least–one of those of those countless people who strut by without a glance, maybe. I can’t really begrudge their inattention though; they’re so used to either seeing me here, or seeing one of my doppelgangers elsewhere in the city.

(Not that I can relate.  e only one I’ve seen of those other guys is the one stationed beside me.)

Sometimes I wonder whether they have better luck with their passerby. Whether they have more to o er come collection time, if it’s just me that always feels less than half full. It certainly doesn’t help that I’m stuck with someone else also hoping to gulp down a share of the mail brought to us. One of these days I’ll have to say so to the man in blue when he makes his daily rounds.

The Sentry

I don’t remember the last time I wasn’t connected to some random person behind me, no more than I can remember not having metal cha ng at my neck. Maybe that time never existed and that’s why I can’t. All I know is that there’s no worming your way out of a four-times bolted collar so tight its rust is stained into your skin. Standing at the edge of a parking lot everyday isn’t the worst job, so I can’t tell you why the powers-that-be are so scared of us running away. I  e fact that it’s me and a bunch of other prisoners who stand guard over this place is a irony I’m to tired to appreci- ate.

At least I’m not alone in being forced into this. e others don’t say much these days. A lifetime of sagging and listing under the weight of chains can do that to that to a person. Besides, you run out of things to talk about pretty quickly when you’ve been with the same people as long as we have.

The Watcher

I take pride in my job. More so than my cowork- ers, I think, and that’s sti  competition consider- ing how many many of ‘em there are.  ere’s gotta be what, 5 of them? just along this block. I’ve nev- er counted the exact number despite how many years I’ve spent here. Not because I don’t care, or that I’m too lazy to do that, oh no, but because of I am one hundred percent devoted to doing what I do–remember, I take pride in it.

It’s safe to say none of these walkers passing in front can avoid my unblinking, steely stare, no more than the cars rolling behind me can do so without my owl-like hearing picking up on it. It’s silly how I can’t turn and look at said cars con- sidering they’re the things I have to keep watch over as I countdown their time–but hey, it’s the job.  is way I can watch the faces of the people as they pay up too, judge whether they look the type to return when they’re supposed to, y’know. Nothing’s worse than when they come back late; all I can do is internally rage, ‘cause frankly no one but the occasional cop cares about those 0s I’m  ashing across my screen.

It’s tough to be ignored, but at least no one can say I’m a slacker.

1/5 final forms for Unit 1. After going through the documentation from part 1, I decided to focus on the personification of inanimate objects in the environment.  For these, I created character designs based off of details that I thought had human characteristics.