I moved away from my desk and out of the corner of my eye I saw a big, hairy, scary spider! My legs, closest to the spider, jumped straight up, and without me realising it, my feet, legs, body, arms, hands and head were in the air. Gravity soon changed that, and with a thump I vowed revenge on the big, hairy, scary spider.
Upon finding my biggest, boldest, spider squashing shoe I had a thought, “Did this spider deserve a bone crushing, blood bursting, sole smashing death?” No. My friend, Mr Hairy Eight, didn’t deserve death. Instead I realised it was all my fault.
Mr Hairy Eight sought shelter, a giant statue gazed into a screen while he quietly made his way to shelter. Suddenly the giant four legged statue moved! And Mr Hairy Eight did as most scared spiders would. He ran away.
I can’t blame him for that. He doesn’t deserve the shoe, instead I’ll give him a visitor pass and continue my work.
Let’s collaborate! Today I’m going to start a story, there is a character and a setting, but no ending. I’m going to stop telling the story after three paragraphs. And that’s where you come in. I want you to continue the story for three more paragraphs. Put your continuation in the comments so I can see it and I’ll continue the story from there. Enjoy!
Alone, cold, shoeless, hungry, thirsty and nameless. All this little girl had was the tattered clothes she wore, a shiny gold coin and a damaged picture of her parents.
She wandered the streets all day and night, no one noticed her, and those who did looked away immediately. People in the city were always rushing somewhere. They never stopped, there was always somewhere to go, someone to talk to, someone to be with. The city was always alive with motion, even now, before sunrise. Everyone had names, water, food, shoes, warmth and friends.
Even though she aimlessly wandered the city, she always found herself sitting on this one bench as the sun rose. It was in the middle of a park and overlooked the eastern ocean. With fresh air in her lungs and bare feet on the soft grass, she looked out over the ocean at the stunning sunrise. And today it was more beautiful than any she had seen before. Today was special…
Recently, a friend of mine put themselves in a coma for a couple of days, and I happened to be beside their bed when they woke-up. Their first question was “What happened?”, that was difficult to explain, so I simply asked “How much do you remember?”, they replied, “Nothing, I don’t even know who I am.” Well, that was an opening I couldn’t refuse…
“You, your majesty, are Grand Master Official Sandwich Eater the First. The year is 2407, everyone can fly, travel in time and do real magic. It’s chaos out there. But a prophecy told of a humble sandwich eater who will restore peace. It says they’re born in the 90’s, played games of videos, conquered dragons hiding in dungeons and only ate sandwiches with buns. This chosen one has seen the sun, trees and wars in stars.
The prophecy was passed down for generations. My father urged me to find you before it was too late. A minute later he was killed by a sizzling steak. It was hard to watch, so I ran away, and searched for you everyday, until I finally found you.
When you woke-up my father told me to ask you a question, a question he said you would know the answer to, who shot first?”
Horatio glided across the training floor practising his Taekwondo moves, blocking invisible punches and flooring invisible attackers. Not even Darren’s entrance disturbed him from his fluid motion and fast strikes.
“Who’s that?” asked Darren, motioning to the body slumped under the window.
“He broke through the window, I took care of him.”
“I can see that. I don’t think anyone else will try to get pa…” Darren trailed off as he approached the body for a closer inspection. “You used a record!”
“Yeah. I mean I could’ve stretched out the fight, but I was right next to it and I thought, ‘Why not?'”
“But it was my favourite!” roared Darren as he flung a foot at Horatio.
Horatio blocked the kick with ease and turned to face Darren. “But you have so many, a whole wall of them. All my weapons are on the other side of the room.”
“Each record is special! You had no right to use it!”
“I could’ve missed.”
“You never miss!”
“Exactly. If I had missed it would’ve shattered into a hundred pieces when it hit the wall, but I have a feeling his flesh cushioned the record enough. Wipe it off and see if it still works.”
Horatio remained calm, but Darren eyed him for a minuted before turning to the body, removing the record, wiping it clean and placing it in the player.