A Story to Be Told…

Last year I was so inspired by my blogging friend, Monica Medina, and the clever progressive story project she created on her blog, Monica’s Tangled Web, I thought I’d give it a whirl myself. Monica simply posted a photograph and wrote the opening sentence to the story. Her readers then took the story and ran with it, adding new plot elements or emotional twists by leaving their contributions in her blog’s comment box. The story ended up being wildly creative and memorable.

So here it goes…based on the photograph below and my opening sentence, please join the fun and help create a story with me.

It’s important that you number your comment so that each person’s new sentence or idea flows in the correct order. For example, if you write the next sentence following my opener, you’d simply write 2. blah blah blah…. The next person would write 3. blah blah blah…. Simple, huh?

From time to time I may throw in a line or two along the way to keep the story going. When it feels like the story has come to its natural conclusion, I will post it in its entirety so you can marvel at your creativity.

Photo of an autumn scene with a woman walking

Here’s the opener:

I never imagined I’d be here at this moment in my life, but…

23 thoughts on “A Story to Be Told…

  1. 23. —THE END—

    Thank you writing friends for making this such a fun process. Never in my wildest dreams would I have ever imagined this story coming from this writing prompt.

  2. 22. “It was worth staging my own death to meet my great-granddaughter! Now, everyone close your gaping jaws and mend your fences while I get a hug from the most beautiful little girl I’ve ever met and get to know the apple of my grandson’s eye. Nadine, hold my gun.”

  3. 21. The weight of silence nearly suffocated Shane as he looked from Aunt Nadine to his grandfather, then finally his father. It was only the tiny chirp of a voice that pierced the tension, allowing everybody to breathe again.

    “Grandpa?” she whispered as she looked up from her pink sparkly cowboy boots.

    Shane’s father was taken aback by her beautiful cocoa skin, long eyelashes and the rainbow of color adorning her cornrow braids. Her sweet presence disarmed every grown-up she’d ever met. Her grandfather was no exception. All he could say was…

  4. 20. A young man wearing a hunter green jacket and plaid slacks stepped forward from beneath the shadows of a jacaranda tree. Looking straight into the eyes of Aunt Nadine, he said glibly, “Aunt Nadine, is it? I’ve been standing here for quite a while, wondering when anyone would notice me. I am Shane’s partner, for the last five years, and together we have just adopted a child. Would you like to meet her or is this a bad time?”

  5. 19. Aunt Nadine interrupted saying, “Before you answer that, shouldn’t you introduce us to the young man who’s been standing here for the past ten minutes looking at us like we’re crazy?”

  6. 17 … where there, dressed in his Sunday best, stood his grandfather as alive as any of them, holding his old hunting rifle, which he’d just fired into the air. “Shane, help your father up. I’ll be damned if he’s going to die before I do and I’ll be double-damned if I’m going to die before this family is reunited.” The family stared at the old patriarch in complete shock.

  7. 16. The reunion was too short. Shane wanted to linger in the gaze of his father’s love longer but the gunshot echoing overhead took both of their gazes back to the front porch.

    • 15. “Dad, I love you!” exclaimed Shane, taking a step toward his father, and with his arms outstretched, he continued, “It’s been too long and I want a truce.” As he said, this he saw his father’s eyes soften perhaps, knowing that he was right. It was time to settle old grudges, and accept his son for what he was.

  8. 13. As the two started down the porch steps, the screen door flew open, propelled by anger that had built up over two decades. “What the hell are you doing here?” a man bellowed. His gray hair framed his pewter eyes and angular jaw. “I told you long ago that you are no longer welcome in this family. How dare you show up here on the weekend of your grandfather’s funeral.” Taking a step forward to continue his rage, Shane’s father suddenly grasped his chest, fear now replacing anger as he fell against the porch railing.

  9. 12. Prodigal son or not, I knew I couldn’t let her kindness get the better of me, as I’d come for a purpose, to be true to myself as Grandfather had taught me, and so without further hesitation I blurted out, “Aunt Nadine, I’m gay, and I want you to meet my partner; he’s waiting in the car.”

  10. 11.
    I had been away for so long I imagined I wouldn’t be welcome. Instead, upon hearing her words the years and distance just disappeared. I felt like the prodigal son who’d returned home.

  11. 7. For a second she didn’t recognize me and I braced for the familiar pang in my gut as my eyes searched hers expectantly. But then she smiled, and I felt the moment expand with relief and gratitude. “How are you?” I whispered quietly.

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