The original Words for Wednesday was begun by Delores and eventually taken over by a moveable feast of participants when Delores had computer troubles.
The aim of the words is to encourage us to write. A story, a poem, whatever comes to mind.
If you are posting on your own blog, please let us know so we can come along and read it.
This month the words are supplied by Elephant's Child and can be found here.
This week's words are:
Here is my story:
George had thought the fortuneteller was simply gushing platitudes (correct word?) when she told him his life was in danger if he didn't change his ways. He left her tent shaking his head with bemusement, almost tripping when his foot caught on a tree root in the dusk.
He veered away from the woods at the edge of the tents, deciding to stop at the home-bake stall and get the cake Mrs Bagot had set aside for him.
The annual community fete was a big event and almost the entire town made an effort to be there every year. The home-bake stall was the most popular with Mrs Bagot's chocolate cakes selling out quickly. George always went there first and paid for one which Mrs Bagot then set aside in the esky under the table.
Walking past Cinderella's Fairytale carriage, humming his favourite chart-topping melody, George began thinking about how peaceful his life had been lately. Maybe the fortuneteller was right. Maybe he should get away from the gang and try going straight. His activities so far had been minor, he was on the periphery, not a major player at all. He hadn't done any of the drug dealing, nor had he stolen a car for the chop shop owned by Big Willie, who liked to boast that his Uncle Rico was a mobster.
There was that little issue with Uncle Rico recently being caught though. He was currently in prison for the next three years and Big Willie's son, Albert, blamed George. He'd been in the area when the police had nabbed Uncle Rico and Albert was convinced George had led them to him.
It wasn't true of course. George had been in that street delivering clean sheets from his mother to his Aunt Helen.
Halfway home, he was startled out of his thoughts by a screaming yell coming from a slate grey limousine as it turned a corner towards him.
"Get ready for a funeral George!" Albert screamed as the car swept past him. "Your own funeral! I'm coming for you. You won't know when, but I'm coming!"
As white as a sheet, George made his way home, delivered the cake to his mother and told her maybe it was a good idea after all if he went to help his grandpa on the farm for a few years. Albert couldn't possibly track him all the way to Australia, surely?
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