Teresa, The Haunted Wordsmith, has started a new Finish the Story for January. See here:
She Tagged Fandango who added his Part two, see here:
And Fandango tagged me, so here goes….
A New Dawn, Part 1
The snow pelted Jon in the face as he stumbled toward the trees. He looked back at the city lights and brushed his long, wet hair out of his eyes. The lights that once held such wonder and mystique now held only despair and heartache. He remembered the warm spring day he first pulled into the city and saw her on the corner waiting for a bus. Lacey would soon be his girlfriend, then fiancé with a little boy on the way. That seemed so long ago. A time when his life was perfect.
He turned back to the trees and allowed the dark to engulf him. Tripping and running into low-hanging branches reminded him he was still alive – for now. Blinded by the snow, tears, and rage, Jon pushed further into the blackness of despair.
Suddenly the ground gave way and he tumbled into a grove surrounded by dead trees. Blood poured over the side of his face and no matter how much he tried, he did not have the strength to fight to live. He only prayed, as he closed his eyes, that they would be waiting for him.
Robins and other songbirds stirred him. Warm rays from the rising sun warmed him, and as his eyes batted and tried to make out what had happened, a sweet voice laughed.
The voice laughed again as Jon rubbed his eyes and sat up.
“No silly,” the voice said. “It’s …”
Part Two – Written by Fandango.
“It’s Matilda and I am your guide.”
Jon could not see the source for the voice. It seemed to be coming from all around him. “My guide? Show yourself, guide. What is this place and why must I have a guide?” he asked.
The guide laughed again. “Oh Jon, everyone who comes here needs a guide. You’d be lost without one. You wouldn’t know what to do next. Besides Jon, you did pray for me. Don’t you remember?”
The last thing Jon remembered was falling down, tumbling into a glade, and feeling battered, bloody, weak, and hopeless. He touched his head, but there was no blood. He looked at his clothing only to discover, much to his dismay, that he was draped in a white silk robe and had leather sandals on his feet. “I don’t understand,” Jon said. “Where exactly am I and why am I dressed this way?”
“All in due time, Jon,” Matilda said in a smooth, calming voice.
“I demand that you show yourself,” Jon said. “Show yourself and tell me what this place is.”
“I am not like a child who should be seen and not heard,” Matilda said. “Quite the opposite, in fact. As to where you are, Jon, a smart man like you should have figured that out by now.”
“Am I dead?” Jon asked. “Am I in Hell?”
“You’re not in Hell,” Matilda said. “And neither are you in Heaven, Jon. You’re in …”
“You’re in the place between.”
“Between where?” Jon’s voice started to show the fear that he had been trying to keep concealed.
“Why, between everywhere, of course. I’ll help you navigate your way. Trust me. Every step you take will make you relive every important decision that you ever made and you will see how it affected everything. Step forward now.”
Jon took a step into the bright sunlight. There was nothing beneath his feet, no ground to hold him up, but he trusted the voice and remained hopeful. Then his foot seemed to land on something soft and solid.
A blinding light flashed and he looked out through the eyes of his own childhood. He remembered standing there, looking through the bannisters looking down at his father in a drunken rage. His father’s arm pounding into a pile of cotton clothes that lay at the foot of the stairs. Should he stay hidden, or rush to stop his father. Try to bring him to his senses. The white clothes had begun to turn red.
Violence was in his blood. He’d remained hidden. Later he would be sent to a foster home and his father drank himself to death.
He didn’t want to remember any more. The memories had led him into his own drink problem.
The soft, calm voice came again.
“It’s Okay Jon. It’s over now. Step forward, there is no going back now you can only go forward.”
He took another step forward and this time ……
End of Part Three.
Copy the story as he or she receives it.
Add to the story in some fashion.
Tag yet another person to contribute to or finish the story.
Please use FTS as a tag so Teresa can find it or link back to part 1.
OK. Who shall I nominate.
How about Sadje at Keep it Alive?
I apologise for taking it in quite a dark direction….