Wednesday's Words on a Friday

 

The original Words for Wednesday was begun by Delores and eventually taken over by a moveable feast of participants when Delores had computer troubles. Sadly, Delores has now closed her blog forever due to other problems.

The aim of the words is to encourage us to write. A story, a poem, whatever comes to mind.

If you are posting an entry on your own blog, please let us know so we can come along to read it and add a few encouraging words.

This month the words/prompts are supplied by Hilary Melton-Butcher and can be found here

This week's words/prompts are: 

1. mimsy (somewhat feeble) 2. bitter 3. dress 4. thyme 5. boom 

and/or: 

1. dish 2. genre 3. embroidery 4. bread 5. spread

Also including Charlotte's colour of the month, turquoise blue.

Here is my story, a further chapter in the new "free village"

With Gunther and Sven both being able to read and write, a type of classroom had been established in a corner of the original library with the help of the ancient librarian who managed to find a table which needed only a little repair and each person wishing to learn brought along their own chair. The gatherings were small, since most able-bodied persons were working to bring enough stores for the coming winter. Wild wheat was being harvested along with wild oats and the combination of those was being ground into rough flour by the old mortar and pestle method. It was hard and very slow going so many took turns to pound the pestle.

Children too small to do much more than gather wood came with older siblings or parents who were resting after their turn at the pestle. Some of the boys were out searching for flint rocks capable of throwing a spark when struck, these would be in great demand for lighting cooking fires, while several men were gathering fallen wood in all sizes to be stacked in another corner of the old library. Once the first boom of thunder was heard, everything needed to be ready.

Gunther was pleased with the speed at which many were learning to read, writing was another matter. Paper was scarce and the few pencils the librarian had hoarded were fast running out. They might soon be reduced to using sticks in damp sand but at this point probably the reading was more important. The winter would be cold and wet, people could gather in the library around one large fire and read from the many books which had been long hidden away, discussions could be held on which genre they preferred, although the word genre first had to be explained. He remembered vaguely his grandmother sitting at such discussions doing her embroidery work, before the threads became unavailable and the unused needles rusted.

It was a shame, he thought, many a plain dress or shirt would be more attractive with a little decoration. He had seen pictures in one or two of the old books, there was a set of these all with the same red and black bindings, the old librarian called this an ‘encyclopedia’, a word Gunther had never heard before. His thoughts on the way books had been banned and burned were sometimes bitter but the anger was soon gone as yet another child “got it” and read out loud from the book he or she was holding. Gunther wondered yet again just how old this librarian was.

 A horn was blown somewhere outside to call the workers to their midday meal, and a large dish of rustic bread spread with ‘jam’ from the plum trees was placed in the middle of the table for the learners. The librarian called them ‘students’: another new word for Gunther and Sven. The dish itself was remarkable, having survived many centuries on a shelf in the cellar, it was made of fine porcelain and turquoise blue in colour. After each use it was carefully wiped clean, wrapped in a soft goatskin and returned to its shelf. The workers dined on a stew made of whatever meat was available and seasoned with wild thyme and basil which had been found growing in a corner outside, where the northern and western sun warmed the old stone walls.