A Fiction Friday and Five-Minute Friday Post in the form of a Progressive Story Game
by Jenny Fulton
Fiction Friday: a time when I post short stories on my blog
Five-Minute Friday: Every week on the Five-Minute Friday site, a topic is posted. The idea is to turn off your internal editor and write for five minutes straight. Then you post your blog and link up with others who have done the same.
Progressive Story Game: a game in which one person starts the story, and then, one at a time, others join in to help complete it.
Help me write this story by adding a few sentences to it in the comments below. Pick up from where the last comment left off…
Five Minutes Starts Now…
Sheila the Fairy and Edwin the Elf gazed at the sky.
“The stars are almost gone. We have to leave now.” Sheila looked at Edwin to gauge his reaction.
He nodded. “We can take the path across the plains. That will give us greater speed.”
“Or we fly. That would be even faster. Come on, this way.” Sheila fluttered lightly into the air on her perfectly exquisite wings.
“Umm, Sheila?” Edwin’s voice sounded small.
Why was he so far away? Somewhat annoyed, Sheila looked behind her… or rather, below her. The tall elf was still on the ground.
“For the hundredth time, Sheila, I can’t fly!”
Stop! End of Five Minutes.
Help me write this story! Add to it in the comments below. Pick up from where the last comment left off. On Monday, I’ll edit the post to include the rest of the story based on everyone’s comments.
But, Edwin, have you ever tried?
Edwin stomped his foot in frustration. “I don’t have wings! Go. I will meet you there.” He began running on the path across the plains.
Edwin heard the sound of fluttering wings and soft laughter behind him.
“Oh no, you’re not losing me that easily,” Sheila replied, “We’re in this together.”
“Besides,” she continued, “I’m the only one who has dealt with this wizard before.”
Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, Edwin extended his arms. His heart beat a little faster, but he couldn’t deny that Sheila was right.
Might the elven magic
extend, yea, unto flying?
Or would results be tragic,
and would he die a-trying?
He had no wings to call his own,
but his thought uplifted
unto the empyrean zone;
might his fervour thus be gifted
with fair lightness of his being,
with ascent unto the clouds
to the land of the All-Seeing
and would All-Seeing thus be proud?
Alas, he did not pass the test
and booked his passage on Southwest.