So I ventured down the nearby trail to survey the current conditions of the season. (And to get better photos than last time’s journey down the trail.) The animals are out, and nothing made that more clear than a massive ruffling of leaves ahead to my right at one point… or more unclear as I couldn’t find any cause of the disturbance.
Down the southward path of the intersection, I presume (the longer, denser end), I saw a chipmunk to my left and a squirrel to my right… both of them scared of my presence, of course. Continue reading Lost in the woods→
So, the last time I hit the trail near the house, on the day Maine-native Anna Kendrick’s Scrappy Little Nobody was scheduled to be released, I discovered another path connected to the large clearing. The first time I visited the clearing, it was starting to get dark (around sunset, plus rain) and I was only passing through, so I missed this path.
The precipitation had begun to pick up again Tuesday, so I put on my L.L. Bean cap. There was a noticeable decline in elevation, before hitting a split… or fork. Or…
There may be an infinite number of things we can do or ways to do them in life, but we only walk the paths we are ready to walk. We are not meant to walk them all. Or even see them all.
Sometimes we can become so buried in our work that we lose parts of the big picture. We can busy ourselves to exhaustion or pretend to avoid confrontation or danger (such as having a smartphone in front of us, or earbuds in to bore others), or to avoid pain… But life isn’t meant to be lived in a bubble. We are meant to feel, and do what scares us every now and then. We aren’t ants or plants; we are human beings.
Now, if there’s anyone who’s lived under a rock, it’s me. And I mean, I have nothing, nada, zip figured out from experience. The main reason why I can’t really write a novel is because my own living story is so empty. I am Exhibit A for someone who hasn’t done anything with his life.
However, since 2012, I have opened up to opportunity quite a bit. …Of course my methods have been awful as opportunity most always doesn’t return my calls. I’ve been reaching out to strangers, sometimes with my heart on my sleeve. Lots of failure.
Still, the people I’ve met these past four years have changed my life in ways big and small. I’m trying new things, attempting to socialize more, even if the results are not great. The Saturday group, for example— I learned things I couldn’t have possibly learned not going. Continue reading Paths undiscovered→
I’ll never forget that night. I was sent alone again, for grandma’s house, like Little Red Riding Hood. Time spent in these parts hadn’t stopped me from looking over my shoulders. I swear, the trees talk to each other.
I walked, steadfast but quiet. I reached the house, relieved. But there I heard the strangest sound, so I bolted inside. Oddly, my parents were there, and my entrance startled them. Dad was disappointed, enough that he challenged my “fear of monsters.” He opened the door. It was a man.
I was the only one to escape grandma’s house alive.
Participation is welcome to all. The goal is to write a story, beginning-middle-end, in 100 words or less. You are also encouraged to “think outside of the box.”
Click here to view the inLinkz for what others have written for the prompt, or add one.
Visit Addicted to Purple for Rochelle’s own stories and her Friday Fictioneers page for more details. You can follow her blog for the prompt each Wednesday.