Head over to Marcie Colleen’s blog, The Write Routine to read the rules – and join in the FUN! If you don’t have a blog, relax…your participation will be needed too. The more people slinging peas and flinging Jell-o the better. See step #3 on Marcie’s page.
If you liked to add to the story below, here’s what you do:
1. Read the posted story and all of the comments that precede you.
2. Post your comment.
3. Be sure to build on and further the existing story. Your comment should flow.
4. The story should read as if it was written by one person when read from beginning to end.
5. ALSO, your comment needs to include at least one word of onomatopoeia and one thrown item of food.
*note- Your onomatopoeia must be a word that has not been used already in that story.
You can add to my story below until March 8th:
Out on the plains, stranded in a sea of buffalo grass, lived a farmer and her husband. Running behind their house, was a skinny sliver of a river. The couple used its water to wet their throats and grow fruit and vegetables.
And grow they did! Strawberries and raspberries, brussel sprouts and broccoli, nectarines and tangerines, lettuces and radishes, cabbages, carrots, and more.
One night the wind rolled over the plains, and whistled through the keyhole. It rattled the windowpanes and tossed the couple in their bed, enough to rob them of sleep. The wind tossed the vegetables in their beds too, robbing the scent and sweeping it out over the plains.
The sun was high in the sky before it roused them. They had not heard the munching and crunching in the garden. The couple caught a glimpse of white tails squeezing out between the fence posts, and the sight in the garden knocked their sleeping caps clear off.
“Best to keep guard tonight, dear,” the farmer said to the husband. “We should work in shifts.”
The husband took the first shift. He sat smack in the middle of the tomato patch and waited. The first fuzzy fellow to peek his nose through the fence slats got what he was looking for – but not in his mouth!