Monday, April 27, 2015

A to Z: Beginnings W

After a very productive weekend with around the house work - as in I'm still moving stuff from the garage and shed at our old house to the new one, yes, two months after moving out, and we still have a ton of stuff there to move - I'm still playing catch up on story starts and visiting blogs. If I haven't been over to visit yet, I promise I will very soon.

THEME: Short Stories - at least the beginnings thereof.

YOUR PART: Throw out words from the letter of the day and I'll pick some of them to include in the opening paragraphs of a short story.

WHY: I'm most inspired when there's a little challenge involved. Usually that means an opening line or a theme. This month: your words.

Each evening I'll post the beginnings of a short story using some of the suggested words, As to when I'll end those stories...well, that's what the rest of the year is for.

So join in the comments with W words. names, places, moods, genres, things, whatever you want to throw at me. My creative bucket awaits. If you're here later in the day and I've already posted the story start, feel free to leave words for the next day's letter.


As a wizard, Wilbur was used to wandering, keeping out of reach of those who didn't appreciate his gifts and seeking out those who did. On this particular morning, he found himself before a river, watching a family of ducks waddle into the water. The unseasonably warm weather left him feeling like a leaf of wilting lettuce, but dipping his bare feet into the water offered welcome relief. A leaf caught in the current spun around his feet like a whirligig.

He stroked his long white beard and evaluated the land. The villagers nearby had planted an abundance of wheat. The river had enough of a current to support a water wheel. With his wealth of wisdom, he could help them build a mill. They would thank him and welcome him and maybe he could finally settle down. He might finally escape the whammy Harold had put on him forty-three years ago.

A stone hit him in the head. Then another. "Get out of here," a man yelled. More stones pelted him.

There seemed to be no escape from Harold.


Join the conversation. It gets lonely in here without you.