Tag: storytelling

The Empty Well

(back soon with the story, need more time to think about it. Hope the title alone can solve some pending questions.)

“My ink well is dry, therefore I cannot write more.” – the writer

“I’ve been ill for a very long time, I don’t know what well means.” – the patient

“I have not done something fulfilling in a long time.” – the worker

“I wish you well, and good bye.” – the fraud

The story…

The year 1200 AD… somewhere in Europe.

There is a small town with two water wells that draw from different sources. Each well is located a separate ends of the town. For more than one generation the people of the town got their water from either. There were no fights. Even during a drought, people talked and planned to make best use of the waters available.

One day, a young man was angry. He wanted a way to get the attention of everyone in town so he tainted one well and gathered like-minded friends to guard the remaining well.

His first attempt at showing his anger was to watch some people become very ill from the well he did not guard.

The next attempt at “letting others feel his anger” was to block people from using “his well”. Most were scared enough to just not ask for water and rationed what they had, hoping the boys would calm down.

A small boy is encouraged to talk to the boys at the well and he seeks them out. Once in front of them he asks, “Why are you protecting the remaining well yet not sharing its waters?”

The older boys complain amongst each other. It has been many days they’ve lived around the well to “protect it” and they’ve had to find their own food and slept under tree limbs and the sky, no longer protected themselves. The small boy notices they are tired and angrier than he remembers ever seeing people. And they have weapons he is not used to seeing. They look newly made, and not by the blacksmith. Made themselves?

TBC

The Girl and the Flock of Birds

Short story, not very original. Just a reminder.

A girl sat on a bench by herself and now and then a bird appeared, pecked around and flew off again. Minding her own business, the girl opens a package of crackers and birds start showing up at her feet, on the bench, and occasionally they jump onto her shoulder and off again… legs too.

“Don’t worry, I’ll share some of my food…” and she takes some crackers in her small hand to drop on the ground and before she can a bigger bird lands on her wrist lowering her arm and almost throwing her off balance.

She leans further over to drop the crackers politely and more birds fly in as well as more than one homeless person.

There is a COMMOTION!!! Birds are flapping wings, the girl is SCREAMING as they get caught in her hair. Her arms are swinging all around her and one homeless person grabs them saying, “Girl, don’t hurt the birds.” And some birds draw blood on her arms and face.

The other homeless person leans over to push birds aside to grab scattered crackers… clutching them tight and then giving them out as if they were theirs… now smaller pieces, even partially damp and dirty from being taken off the ground.

What should happen next is a police officer or other reliable adult runs up and chases the commotion off the child and helps them get to safety. The reality is, more adults may show up and knock out the child and kidnap them, ask for ransom from whoever they can get money from. Not even seeking out friends and family. Could be months before that child gets home. In the Twilight Zone… they may never get home or have crackers on a bench again.

This does qualify as a short horror story near to the upcoming Halloween nights. It is to remind parents and youths to keep an eye out for each other and not allow violence to be commonplace. *Thinking about it some more: IF Gandalf the White(a wizard from Tolkien’s writings) showed up, he would have likely sent away every thing living but the girl and one deserving bird, then stepped back and be gone to allow the girl and bird peace between them.

Do Tell!

Actually inspired by a speaking game played with adults in childhood. Having memory problems and still enjoyed story telling, just wanted to talk and one of the kick-off sayings we had was “Do tell…”

Created this as a little card game last year. Working out the color scheme for the top of the cards. Haha! In person the colors are better. This is a first printing. Game works! It isn’t meant to be fancy, just ordinary analog fun. I’ll make these available online for purchase once it is tested out fully.

The Old Man and the Birds

(working title)
I’m writing this story live. If I don’t snoopers may try to sell it before I publish it. Stand by… (copied from Linkedin after I finished as is for now)

After working hard for years, an old man is retired and alone. He knows he is near his end, or he thinks so. Gives away his expensive things to friends and family and has his little money to live on and enjoy his final days in peace.

He has just enough to get by, but things are getting more expensive. He doesn’t want to burden people he cared about in life. Just wants to fade away.

After losing his small apartment home and walking out, leaving everything there he takes to the streets. He has a terminal illness and knows his life is closing down.

One day he notices the young birds visiting him. Older ones watching them and him. Laying on his cardboard he gets up and goes to a store and with his last cash buys bird seed. He sits at the park and gives and gives… it last for days and he makes lots of friends with the birds and he lives in that nice park for a while with them.

The day comes and he is out. He sits and watches some birds come to visit, give him looks, peck around and leave again. Some come and fight each other at his feet and next to him on the bench.

Sadly he gets up, and slowly walks away. Birds chase after him.. scurrying at his feet… landing on his shoulders… on his head… flying by… some talking… some yelling… he just keeps walking slowly… no where to really go. His breathing isn’t well…

…his head is getting foggy.. he is not sure if he is walking or not. He feels very tired… and slowly loses consciousness. The birds land on his body, now just fallen on the path. He hears them, it sounds like music and confusion… they peck at his hair, his face, his jacket, his shoes, and stand and fight on him. Doesn’t matter their color, or size, or origin. Just birds.

Are you a bird? Do beautiful feathers stop you from pecking at people? Are you all in gray? Do you feel, special?

Joggers… come up quick and birds fly off… some fly and fly and fly… others hop out of the way still watching and looking for bird seed, which.. some may have dropped.

What does this story mean to you? What human would you be in this story if you wrote yourself in? Are you proud of the birds? Would you want to be one?

What are the joggers thinking of as they see this dead old man on a path? Take his wallet? Chase the birds away? Run off and pretend they didn’t see him?

There are many meanings in this story. Some people feel old and out of bird seed, even not near their own natural death. They feel like they already gave up a lot already.

If the old man got up, and walked back to an expensive apartment with all kinds of marble and gold. Had he still spent “all his seeds” for “the birds”? What if he had only bought ONE BAG in life and spent it all. Are the birds still “owed”? Is he responsible if the birds called more to his neighborhood?

more later