Let’s Write a Fantasy Story Together

Just for fun, I invite readers of this blog to collaborate in writing a short fantasy story. To join in, just write the next paragraph of the story as a “comment.” It should, of course, bear some relation to the paragraphs that went before it. I’ll delete anything obscene, any graphic sex or violence or profanity, anything disrespectful to God or Jesus Christ, and anything that’s just incoherent. Otherwise, your paragraph becomes part of the story.

Got it? Good! The game is now open to anyone who wants to play. Let me get the ball rolling with a first paragraph. After this, I’ll clam up and the rest will be entirely the fruits of the readers’ imagination. Here goes…

Jennifer woke on a snowy morning and looked out the window. There was a centaur in her back yard, standing by the bird bath–not at all the kind of thing you expect to see in the suburbs: or anywhere else, for that matter.

The rest is up to you, folks.

7 comments on “Let’s Write a Fantasy Story Together

  1. What is going on? She thought,in a panic. Memories of her college Mythology class came back–but this creature out there by the birdbath was real, frighteningly real. If she caught a picture of it, she might become famous; if she disturbed it, she might be victimized. What to do?

  2. She walked to the window and realized it was open wide – but why? Her thought was quickly answered as she felt a light tap on her shoulder and cautiously looked back to find a small, gray, wrinkled creature crouched precariously on her bureau.
    “Gryfdil!” it said, extending its hand. “Jermalak, drophin bridd!”

  3. “Mr. Centaur!” she called from her window.
    “Hmm?” mumbled the centaur, who was standing next to an apple tree.
    “What are you doing in my backyard?” asked Jennifer.
    “I’d be a’losin’ ma’ poor sunglasses as I was a’trotting along this here yard. I hast been a finding it in this here bird bath, and I was a’tryin’ to get it out, when a stupid inky raven snatched it out of ma’ hands!”
    “Oh, I’m so sorry about that!” said Jennifer. “Would you like to come in for something to eat? You look hungry.”
    “Ah, no thanks!” grumbled the centaur. “Right now I want my sunglasses, right now, I tell you, before I eat an apple from this tree!”
    Jennifer stared at the centaur, not knowing what to say next. “Well…” said she, glancing from the centaur to the apple tree.
    Then the centaur snatched an apple from the tree, brushed the snow off from it, and “crunch!” went the apple as the grumpy ol’ centaur took a big bite from his apple.
    “Muchas gracias, amigo! Que pasa de bonjour mon ami! Feliz cumpleanos and don’t touch my moustache!” he shouted angrily, then he trotted away into a nearby forest, never to return again.
    “Well,” said Jennifer, “I guess I now have something to write about in my diary anyway.” Then she sat down at her desk and wrote about her singular experience with an extraordinarily excentric centaur.

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