Just bear with me, my little blogerinas, mommy needs a few minutes to get through all of these memes.
This one comes courtesy of my sexy/comfortable shoe wearing goddess Freida Bee, as well as the lovely cake-loving NotSoccer Mom. Take that, Whiskeymarie! Twice!
Since you both tagged me for this, I just added on to the shorter of the two story thread (Freida's). Hope that's o.k, I just didn't want to post the same thing(ish) twice.
This is one of the more "involved" memes I've done, and I think it's a great idea. Here's how it works:
Splotchy started this story. Here are his own words to describe what this is.
"This has probably been done before, but that is not stopping me, oh no.
Here's what I would like to do. I want to create a story that branches out in a variety of different, unexpected ways. I don't know how realistic it is, but that's what I'm aiming for. Hopefully, at least one thread of the story can make a decent number of hops before it dies out.
If you are one of the carriers of this story virus (i.e. you have been tagged and choose to contribute to it), you will have one responsibility, in addition to contributing your own piece of the story: you will have to tag at least one person that continues your story thread. So, say you tag five people. If four people decide to not participate, it's okay, as long as the fifth one does. And if all five participate, well that's five interesting threads the story spins off into.
Not a requirement, but something your readers would appreciate: to help people trace your own particular thread of the narrative, it will be helpful if you include links to the chapters preceding yours."
I have avoided reading the other strands as to not be affected by their versions and may tag someone tagged elsewhere. If you have already been tagged, let me know. I certainly don't mind being tagged a little later to add another paragraph (or more if you wish) as the story develops.
I woke up hungry. I pulled my bedroom curtain to the side and looked out on a hazy morning. I dragged myself into the kitchen, in search of something to eat. I reached for a jar of applesauce sitting next to the sink, and found it very cold to the touch. I opened the jar and realized it was frozen. (Splotchy)
I was used to the house being quite cold in the mornings, as the night log usually burns out around one AM when I am dreaming cozily under my covers, not normally waking to put a new one on until morning. I was surprised because on the rare occasions that it actually had reached sub-freezing temperatures in the house, I had awakened in the night to restart the fire. I would have been worried about the pipes before P-Day, but there hadn’t been running water in two years and that was one of the few advantages to being dependent on rainwater, no pipes. (Freida Bee)I rummaged around in the kitchen and found one of the few things that hadn't frozen overnight to eat- an expired granola bar. "Better than nothing", I muttered to myself as I tore off the wrapper and took a bite, trying to not chip a tooth in the process.
I thought I should go out to the shed and bring in more wood. The mind-numbing cold snap that had set in over the last few days seemed to be in no hurry to leave. Pulling on my heavy coat and wool hat, I considered for a moment what lay ahead for the day. Normally I would spend much of the day making any needed repairs to the house, cleaning, reading various newsletters, cooking, and just trying to keep busy in general. With no job to fill my time anymore I have found my newfound "freedom" to be both a blessing and a curse. Ever since P-day, the only job most of us have is to sit in our homes and find something, anything, to pass the time.
Well, that- and to stay alive. (Whiskeymarie)
For once I'll actually tag a few of you for this, rather than just leaving the meme whimpering & slowly dying of neglect.
If you don't want to do this, that's fine. But I shall at least attempt to keep the storyline alive. (I'm trying to choose those of you that I think might actually enjoy this. If you want in, by all means, consider yourself tagged.)