An explanation about what follows: I don't often write or post fiction but a friend of mine gave me a couple of prompt books for Christmas and another friend chose from the fiction prompts. What follows is me spreading my wings a bit and playing in the world of fiction. It was a challenging and fun exercise I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. The prompt was to write a story that was told through emails. The emails are in italics. In bold are each writers addition to the story (if you want to speed up the reading).
It had been a long weekend hiking and my body was still hurting from the exertion. Two days after our last hike, I was still walking like I had gotten off a horse minutes ago. Sitting hurt, standing hurt, going to the bathroom hurt (I swear we just went hiking), bending over to put on shoes hurt. There was no way I was going to make it through a day at work, sitting at a computer screen staring at numbers didn’t feel right either, I stood on top of a mountain two days ago, tables of data wasn’t happening. I called in sick, which also turned out to be a mistake. At work I had coffee breaks and people to talk to. At home, I didn’t even have a dog. I was wide awake by 7:30 and after exhausting what my ceiling offered (not much) I got out of bed, made my morning cup of tea and was instantly bored. In my recliner I exhausted my wall’s offerings as well (like the ceiling it wasn’t much). At some point, I should consider decorating my apartment. I got an idea from the wall (who has always been a better friend anyway). I shuffled into my home office and creaked into my desk chair to fire off an email.
Derek & Logan,
I made a huge mistake… I stayed home from work and I am going stir crazy. Remind me in the future, if I take a Monday off after hiking to make sure I have something to do. My groceries were delivered and because I am a bit of neat freak, my apartment is already clean, I can’t even do the domestic stuff to pass the time.
Here’s my idea… Let’s write a story. I’ll start it, write a paragraph or two, and then one of you jumps in and adds a paragraph or two. Then, at the end of the day, we’ll see what we have. Game?
Cheers,
Nate
They both work in the IT department of the same company where I work accounting. That’s why I hike actually I feel like I need the balance in my life. Mind numbing drudgery balanced with cliff hanging, intense hiking, and occasionally swimming with sharks. Those two, however, don’t mind their jobs so it would take them a bit to respond. I got out of my chair, figured out a way to get undressed, and collapsed into a hot shower while I waited to hear from them. As I finished soaping up, I heard Purple Rain playing from my phone and knew I had an email.
Nate,
1. “A bit of a neat freak” is an understatement. I would eat spaghetti off your toilet seat. 2. I’m game. I’m in and out of meetings all day, so I’ll add on during the 15 minutes I have between those. Derek is in a meeting now. Someone forgot to back up a computer over the weekend and something happened, info got lost and now they have to figure it out. It may be a bit before you hear from him, he’s not exactly creative but I’m sure he’ll play, it’ll give him some place to blow off steam. I can see him through an office window and he doesn’t look happy.
Logan
Since we had no idea when Derek was going to join us, I decided to get the story going.
Logan and Derek,
Here are the rules…
1. You can’t add more than two paragraphs to the story.
2.Nothing that would make your mom blush (or your grandmother in your case Derek) (Derek’s mom had been a Marine, and she had the vocabulary and stories to prove it. Prude was not a word we used to describe her.)
3. Copy and paste the whole story every time before you add a new piece so we don’t have to go searching through the email chain to figure out where we are.
Here we go…
Once upon a time there was a beautiful princess, Melody, that lived on the edge of a vast lake. She dreamed of a life on the other side of the lake, but growing up she was told there was no safe way to cross and that it was so large if she tried to walk around the lake she would surely die from exposure. She lived in dreams of the legends that were told around the fires of the village.
Sitting on her favorite rock watching the waves lap onto the shore Melody here a splash down the shore and a out view from where she was sitting. Curiosity overwhelmed her. She walked down to see what had caused it. Leaning against a tree, back away from the rocks, was a tall old man with the longest beard the princess had ever seen. As she came into view, he looked up and smirked at her. “I see you have your mother’s curiosity,” he said. “You knew my mother?” asked the princess. The old man said, “I did, a long time ago. Before I left for the other side of the lake.”
Okay guys, I look forward to seeing where this story goes.
Cheers,
Nate
I actually hadn’t finished unpacking from my trip. I emptied my pack, sorted everything out and then placed it all back in its correct spots, started a load of laundry, and made my second cup of tea for the day. Then I sat down and watched the city pass by outside my window until Prince started playing again.
Wait, what the heck is going on here? Kudos to Logan for eating off your toilet seat. Why you gotta dis my mom? Kidding she’s makes me turn red, probably why I’m still single, I have yet to bring a girl to visit mom and the first word out of her mouth is always sex or some “blue” version.
Anyway… You want me to help you write a story so you don’t get bored? Then you begin the story, Once upon a time… Are you Princess Melody? Seriously, you climb mountains then write a story like 13-year-old girl, except Tina Belcher who writes great stories. LOL.
Try again, mate.
Out,
Derek
P.S. I will play if you can get a better start.
Nate,
I hate to say it, but I agree with the Lummox… Back in an hour next meeting is starting.
Logan
Fine, either of you have a suggestion?
Cheers,
Nate
P.S. No dark and stormy nights allowed either.
Good timing. I had to use the bathroom, and I didn’t like the story start either. With some noodles and fresh veggies that got delivered not long after I got up. I pulled out a can of chopped chicken, tossed it in a pot with some chicken broth, chopped some celery and carrots, some salt and pepper, and settled into the wait while my poor man’s chicken soup simmered. When I come back from hiking trips, I’m always caught somewhere between hungry and not wanting anything heavy.
After the last series of emails I turned my phone to silent, I can only handle the same three bars of Purple Rain so many times before I am fed up. This email arrived as the skittering of my phone as it vibrated across my white ceramic counter tops. I guess I do like a sterile environment.
This is my offering for a start…
We woke up as the sun peaked through the picture window of our cabin. Three mugs of tea and a light breakfast and we loaded into the little Rav4 headed for the mountains. It took us an hour to realize that our day was starting poorly in the best way possible.
We were rolling down the country roads of eastern Tennessee, not realizing that we were going in the wrong direction. Maybe ten minutes before we crossed the border into North Carolina, Nick looked across at Tim, “You do know where we are going right, the direction feels wrong.” “I thought was just headed this way until we crossed the main road then turned left.” Mark started laughing, “I’ll check the map. Yeah, we have gone what looks like an hour in the wrong direction.” Everybody shook their head and said, “U-turn,” in unison. It had become the theme of their trip. For three guys with amazing senses of direction and survival in the woods, they were constantly lost on roads.
How’s that for a start?
Logan
I loved it mostly because I knew it was a true story. It was how the last hiking trip Logan, Derek, and I had taken together started. I didn’t even have a chance to think about the next part before my phone was vibrating across the counter again.
Logan man,
I love it! One of the best trips ever…
We woke up as the sun peaked through the picture window of our cabin. Three mugs of tea and a light breakfast and we loaded into the little Rav4 headed for the mountains. It took us an hour to realize that our day was starting poorly in the best way possible.
We were rolling down the country roads of eastern Tennessee, not realizing that we were going in the wrong direction. Maybe ten minutes before we crossed the border into North Carolina, Nick looked across at Tim, “You do know where we are going right, the direction feels wrong.” “I thought was just headed this way until we crossed the main road then turned left.” Mark started laughing, “I’ll check the map. Yeah, we have gone what looks like an hour in the wrong direction.” Everybody shook their head and said, “U-turn,” in unison. It had become the theme of their trip. For three guys with amazing senses of direction and survival in the woods, they were constantly lost on roads.
Headed in the right direction, we decided it would be a good idea to turn on the GPS until we go to the trailhead; we didn’t want to end up in Florida next. It was a smart GPS weaving us out and around the population centers of Pigeon Forge and Gatlinburg. Another hour on the road and we pulled into the park that held the start of our hike. It was the middle of winter, so the parking lot was empty. Winter also meant the privies were all locked up, because apparently people don’t need bathrooms when it’s cold. We jumped out of the Rav and run into the woods. We reconvened at the car, pulled our packs out of the back and crossed the parking lot.
The trailhead was before us and looked clear. Apparently no show had fallen here yet. Nick, the religious one, said a little prayer for us and we started walking. Nick was the only one that had ever been on this track before, and he did a lousy job warning about what was to come. It was all uphill, no flats, no switch backs, no natural places to stop and take a break, just up.
Your turn, Nate. I’m going to be in a tech meeting for the rest of the day. I look forward to seeing how this ends. 😉
Out,
Derek
I loved that trip as much, if not more, than those two did. Before I started writing, I had to grab my phone and thumb through the pictures to relive that weekend. We had laughed a lot. It’s where our friendship moved from being guys that worked together to being friends. I knew on that trip I would take a bullet for them and not regret it.
The phone vibrated in my hand with a new email… This one from Logan.
Nate,
I’m going to have to head into a meeting that will wrap up my day as well. I wanted to add a bit more before I take off. It’ll be up to you to decide how this epic ends.
We woke up as the sun peaked through the picture window of our cabin. Three mugs of tea and a light breakfast and we loaded into the little Rav4 headed for the mountains. It took us an hour to realize that our day was starting poorly in the best way possible.
We were rolling down the country roads of eastern Tennessee, not realizing that we were going in the wrong direction. Maybe ten minutes before we crossed the border into North Carolina, Nick looked across at Tim, “You do know where we are going right, the direction feels wrong.” “I thought was just headed this way until we crossed the main road then turned left.” Mark started laughing, “I’ll check the map. Yeah, we have gone what looks like an hour in the wrong direction.” Everybody shook their head and said, “U-turn,” in unison. It had become the theme of their trip. For three guys with amazing senses of direction and survival in the woods, they were constantly lost on roads.
Headed in the right direction, we decided it would be a good idea to turn on the GPS until we go to the trailhead; we didn’t want to end up in Florida next. It was smart GPS weaving us out and around the population centers of Pigeon Forge and Gatlinburg. Another hour on the road and we pulled into the park that held the start of our hike. It was the middle of winter, so the parking lot was empty. Winter also meant the privies were all locked up, because apparently people don’t need bathrooms when it’s cold. We jumped out of the Rav and run into the woods. We reconvened at the car, pulled our packs out of the back and crossed the parking lot.
The trail head was before us and looked clear. Apparently no show had fallen here yet. Nick, the religious one, said a little prayer for us and we started walking. Nick was the only one that had ever been on this track before, and he did a lousy job warning about what was to come. It was all uphill, no flats, no switch backs, no natural places to stop and take a break, just up.
When we left the parking lot, we thought we had the mountain to ourselves. Little did we know that we were sharing the slope with a troll, not a real troll, but an unpleasant hiker. We rounded a bend when Tim and Mark stepped almost ran headlong into Troll. They greeted him warmly, and he returned their kindness with icy silence. Nick, a little behind, because he is old, got words from the Troll. “Come on through I could use the break,” said Nick. “If that’s the case then you should have found some other activity for the afternoon. Plus, I wouldn’t try this in those shoes. It gets snowy and icy up ahead,” grunted The Troll. Nick nodded as he passed the man and responded, “Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind.” Then Nick looked up at his friends and smiled and gave that look that says, “I believe that guy needs to switch toilet papers.” The Troll was decked out in all the latest gear and was all marching along with the stuff we purchased on sale a few years ago. We guessed our clothes didn’t convey that between us we had summited three dozen mountains (the majority belonged to Nick), most of them in the Colorado Rockies.
The next two miles were uneventful climbing until we heard something large come crashing through the woods towards us. We paused and prepared ourselves for the onslaught of whatever was coming. Then out of the woods stumbled a herd of old people, laughing and giggling. There were six or eight of them. The color was gone from their hair and they from the wrinkles that filled their faces collagen gave out years ago. It was apparent that they had spent most of their lives smiling. The last to make their way out of the bush was a couple. When the husband spotted us he smiled and looked at his wife, “stop throwing snowballs at me, and toss some at them.” She retorted, “I don’t know them.” The couple continued to bicker over the direction they would go, and the geriatric flock moved on down the mountain. We stood there grinning and laughing over the what just happened. Tim asked, “Did they just come out of the woods.?” Footprints thinned out and we really had the mountain to ourselves. It had finally leveled off for the last mile to vista we headed for.
Nate have fun finishing the story. Curious where you’ll chose to end things.
Logan
I really didn’t know how or where to finish the story. I made another cup of tea and sat down for a while. The cars passed on the street below. I stood up and paced around for a while, then I finally sat down in front of my laptop to finish the story I kind of started.
Here’s the ending…
We woke up as the sun peaked through the picture window of our cabin. Three mugs of tea and a light breakfast and we loaded into the little Rav4 headed for the mountains. It took us an hour to realize that our day was starting poorly in the best way possible.
We were rolling down the country roads of eastern Tennessee, not realizing that we were going in the wrong direction. Maybe ten minutes before we crossed the border into North Carolina, Nick looked across at Tim, “You do know where we are going right, the direction feels wrong.” “I thought was just headed this way until we crossed the main road then turned left.” Mark started laughing, “I’ll check the map. Yeah, we have gone what looks like an hour in the wrong direction.” Everybody shook their head and said, “U-turn,” in unison. It had become the theme of their trip. For three guys with amazing senses of direction and survival in the woods, they were constantly lost on roads.
Headed in the right direction, we decided it would be a good idea to turn on the GPS until we go to the trailhead; we didn’t want to end up in Florida next. It was smart GPS weaving us out and around the population centers of Pigeon Forge and Gatlinburg. Another hour on the road and we pulled into the park that held the start of our hike. It was the middle of winter, so the parking lot was empty. Winter also meant the privies were all locked up, because apparently people don’t need bathrooms when it’s cold. We jumped out of the Rav and run into the woods. We reconvened at the car, pulled our packs out of the back and crossed the parking lot.
The trail head was before us and looked clear. Apparently no show had fallen here yet. Nick, the religious one, said a little prayer for us and we started walking. Nick was the only one that had ever been on this track before, and he did a lousy job warning about what was to come. It was all uphill, no flats, no switch backs, no natural places to stop and take a break, just up.
When we left the parking lot, we thought we had the mountain to ourselves. Little did we know that we were sharing the slope with a troll, not a real troll, but an unpleasant hiker. We rounded a bend when Tim and Mark stepped almost ran headlong into Troll. They greeted him warmly, and he returned their kindness with icy silence. Nick, a little behind, because he is old, got words from the Troll. “Come on through I could use the break,” said Nick. “If that’s the case then you should have found some other activity for the afternoon. Plus, I wouldn’t try this in those shoes. It gets snowy and icy up ahead,” grunted The Troll. Nick nodded as he passed the man and responded, “Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind.” Then Nick looked up at his friends and smiled and gave that look that says, “I believe that guy needs to switch toilet papers.” The Troll was decked out in all the latest gear and was all marching along with the stuff we purchased on sale a few years ago. We guessed our clothes didn’t convey that between us we had summited three dozen mountains (the majority belonged to Nick), most of them in the Colorado Rockies.
The next two miles were uneventful climbing until we heard something large come crashing through the woods towards us. We paused and prepared ourselves for the onslaught of whatever was coming. Then out of the woods stumbled a herd of old people, laughing and giggling. There were six or eight of them. The color was gone from their hair and they from the wrinkles that filled their faces collagen gave out years ago. It was apparent that they had spent most of their lives smiling. The last to make their way out of the bush was a couple. When the husband spotted us he smiled and looked at his wife, “stop throwing snowballs at me, and toss some at them.” She retorted, “I don’t know them.” The couple continued to bicker over the direction they would go, and the geriatric flock moved on down the mountain. We stood there grinning and laughing over the what just happened. Tim asked, “Did they just come out of the woods.?” Footprints thinned out and we really had the mountain to ourselves. It had finally leveled off for the last mile to vista we headed for.
It’s true, Tim and Mark haven’t hiked as many mountains as Nick, but they are far faster than he is. They had reached the over look tower and were pulling out their dinner when Nick finally arrived at the summit. “Let’s go into the tower and get out of the wind before we start cooking,” Nick suggested. Tim and Mark nodded in agreement. They all climbed the handful of stairs into the old tower. The CCC built the tower on a cliff edge, overlooking a deep valley by in the 1930s as a fire watch. Now it gave the determined a rewarding view down over the surrounding Smokies. The trio sat down on the floor, pulled food from their packs, and shared a hikers feast.
They knew the effort had forged a friendship as deep as the valley.
It felt like the right place to end. It get’s a bit sappy, it’s probably just the pain I am in from this weekend. You two want to get dinner tonight and plan our next adventure?
Cheers,
Nate
