You’ve played this game before, right? Where one person begins a story, no limits, and passes to the next person, who adds to the story’s beginning, again no limits, then passes again to the next person? The story can take as many twists and turns as the various players can imagine, and the ending is usually nothing like what the beginning might have hinted. Or maybe it is! This is completely up to the players.
Oh my gosh. Friends, it is so much fun. I was subbing in an eighth grade English class this winter, sans-lesson plans because the regular teacher had taken sick rather suddenly. To calm the natives, who were restless and can definitely smell a sub’s fear, I had them sit on the floor in a big circle. We kicked off this game with about nineteen extremely creative, intelligent, hilarious thirteen-to-fourteen year olds, and the results were phenomenal! Some kids were shy at first, but the story-telling opened them up even more than I expected. Other kids dove right in, face first, plunging into the icy unknown waters of fiction with greed and joy. It was a sight to behold, and I walked away from that class period wishing fervently that I had taken notes. Their communal, accidental story was amazing. And as a group they were on a serious writer’s high when the bell rang. Lots of the kids ran up to me in the hallway later that week asking if we could do it again. It is FUN.
Well, I want to play this game with y’all. My really smart, funny, insightful, creative readers. And I have the perfect prompt: This photo. I snapped it while on a particularly invigorating run this morning, not at the farm in case you’re confused. It literally stopped me in my tracks.
Since I cannot gather you in one room at the farm and have you sit on the floor in a circle (although that would also be a blast!), let’s just pass the baton electronically. The first person to comment can write in any direction whatsoever, as briefly or as lushly as you desire. The next person, same invitation. Feel free to change the story completely or embellish, go deep or get ridiculous. Variety and will. That’s the thing.
I would be tickled turquoise if this story were to continue gradually for many weeks. Tell your friends! Spread the word. Come back often to see where the storyline has spun, and contribute as many times as you like. Do you have writerly kids? They can play too! Let’s see what kind of story we can build together.
Okay, I’ll start…
Emma couldn’t believe that it was really happening. She’d heard warnings and horror stories about it all her life and was trained for such situations in half a dozen ways but never thought of herself as a target. The man who’d been tailing her in her blind spot for a full mile was gaining on her, aggressively now with no one else in sight, and she felt that prickly heat sensation of danger scan rapidly over her body. Pushing her son’s stroller leisurely all morning, she now picked up to a clumsy jog and resisted to urge to turn around and look at the man in the face. Didn’t want to see him, wanted to will him far away from her and her baby. She sped up. The chunky wooden necklace she’d been so careful to select that morning was now bouncing painfully against her collarbone and ping-ponging off of her face, confusing her and obscuring her view. Her son either felt Emma’s tension or was uncomfortable with their new pace and started fussing…
See? Easy. Your turn!
Emma was immediately regretting that she had not completed her conceal carry course to carry a firearm. That option gone, she desperately searched the area for any sign of a safe haven.
As she ran and thought wildly about her husband’s constant reminders to get her conceal-carry license finished so she would be safer, Emma swerved sharply down a new sidewalk with a hairpin turn. Her little boy’s pacifier went flying out of either his mouth or the stroller, and she was whimpering just a little but building grit. Trees around them made it impossible to see whether the man was still in pursuit.
Just then, she saw a trail that led straight up the hill to possible help. She could see the top of a large building just beyond the rising’s crest. Although fear was trying to consume her, she was thankful be confident that running up the hill would provide little resistance to her well trained legs.
With a short burst, she began her climb……
The building was vacant and locked!
It was at this moment that Emma realized she had ran herself into a corner. Going back down would put her direct in the strangers tracks. To her left was a tall cliff and to her right a thick Forest, too thick to run through.
Her pulse was racing, well beyond a healthy workout pace. She had to find a way to prepare to protect herself and her baby…..
Maybe if he thought she’d gone into the woods, she could then go back the way she’d come. She quickly broke a few limbs at the edge of the woods and threw her necklace to the ground along with one of her son’s shoes and hid just around the corner of the building. Now to wait and try to gain control of her breathing.
As she was waiting, she thought back to three years ago when she had been so afraid for her life. She had been coming home to her apartment after dark after seeing a movie with a friend. She normally didn’t stay out after dark since “it” had happened.
Just as she was starting to relive that experience, she heard the sound of branches being broken along the path.
Mothers were strong, Emma knew this. As the sounds grew nearer, she put down her son and picked up a sturdy branch. She planted her feet in the ground and waited. The man rounded the corner and Emma didn’t hold back. Swinging like Babe Ruth, Emma whacked him soundly on the nose.
“Ow! Jeez, what the hell?” said the man. He might have said a few other words more appropriate for an HBO show as well. “Scarlett, right? I just wanted to ask you something. Crap.” The man tipped his head back in an attempt to stop the blood that was flowing from it.
“My name’s not Scarlett,” Emma said, still holding the branch in a swing-ready position.
“That’s what the barista called you. Your Starbucks name?” He managed to smile through the blood. “Mine is Fabio.”
“Who the hell are you? Tilt your head forward, you’re supposed to let it flow.”
“Really?” said the man. He was kind of cute, in a Shonda Rhimes tv show sort of way. “Thanks. Look, this is going to sound crazy but I was just trying to get your number for my friend. He saw you, back at the Starbucks. I told him he was being stupid, you had a baby, but.. .” the man glanced at her hand. “He noticed you weren’t wearing a wedding ring.”
“You chased me through the woods to get my phone number?” said Emma. She considered hitting him again. This couldn’t be true.
“Yeah. Oh no, I didn’t scare you, did I? God, sorry. I wasn’t thinking. It’s just that my friend . . . he’s used to getting what he wants. You might know him, actually. Well. Know of him. He’s done a few movies.”
She snapped back to reality. This was her dream, to finally meet a successful man who would care for her and her son; and love them because the father of her child never had.
But a guy who’s used to getting what he wants? Already a red flag. Plus she prefers a lower profile than a recognizable movie star might provide, even if it also brought security for her and her baby. And this friend of his nursing the bloody nose, well, maybe he’s re interesting than dangerous.
Suddenly a tiny, hyperactive squirrel lept out of the low brush near them, twittering and squealing. She jumped and squealed herself, and the baby started crying again. More prickly heat all over her body, which had just begun to cool from the chase.
“Stupid squirrels, seriously!”
“What do you have against squirrels?” He puzzled, not sure yet whether to be offended or amused…
I had one come up through my plumbing once. It bit me on the butt.
Realizing this was a crazy conversation to even be having, Emma picked up her son and walked away. “I certainly don’t need some crazy-chase-you-through-the-woods-for-my-adolescent-friend dude who calls himself FABIO in my life,” she thought as she crossed the park headed toward her car.
Strange men. She reflected on the gamut of men that had been in her life beginning with her father. None of them resembled anything close to what society would call ‘normal’. What was about herself that made her such a magnet for those types?
As she continued down the path lost in thought, she suddenly came upon a strange blue box with a blinking light on top. Going closer she read the words ‘Police Call Box’ onthe door. What was this doing out here in the woods? She was startled when the door owned and a head popped out and said: ‘Hello, Emma. I’ve been waiting for you. I’m the Doctor.’ She realized that all those strange men in her life combined could not equal the eccentricity of the man standing there quirkily smiling at her. As he took her by the hand and led her into the box her mind reeled. ‘It’s called a TARDIS, and yes, it’s bigger on the inside than it is on the outside. Are you ready for the great adventure of your life?’
Considering for a moment the vulnerable baby in her charge and all the paperwork and perishable groceries she would be leaving behind if they took this bizarre invitation, then realizing that she’s been craving exactly such a bizarre invitation for months, Emma grinned, scooped up her son, and stepped forward. Over her shoulder she reminded “Fabio” to let his nose bleed a bit, “Oh and tell your friend thanks but no thanks!”
With that, she was off…
Feeling a bit like Alice in Wonderland, Emma followed this strange man along a wooded path lined with glittering flowers. Just as she was feeling a bit out of time, he turned to her and said “you haven’t been here before, have you?”.
And then she realized that yes, actually, she had been here before. A long time ago, as a small girl. This magical place had been her refuge from the drama that surrounded her life. And suddenly she felt safe for the first time in a long, long time. After “it” had happened, Emma had become a bit of a recluse while protecting herself and her darling baby boy from the memories of “it”. But right at this moment, that all seemed a distant memory.
With that new sense of well-being in mind, Emma continued to follow the doctor down the path towards a small cottage. The cottage where she had spent many afternoons hiding from her mother. “I wonder if it’s still the same”, she thought to herself as she quickened her step.
As she approached the front door, she stopped to look under the frog flower pot and sure enough, the key was still there. She opened the door slowly and she could hear the faint sound of the bell that still welcomed all who came in.
She made her way into the cottage and her eyes took it the wonder of the moment. She stared down at the floor and saw the beautiful brown and white rug that looked like peacocks were parading across it. It had not faded or changed with age at all. She looked at the beautiful stained glass window that had the red and white Hot Air Balloon reaching for the nearest cloud. It felt so good to see familiar things again. The fireplace still had the golden eagle flying over it but no sign of the Clown music box did you see.
She sat there for a moment and then decided to move toward the bedroom and the hidden things she had left there.