Finish the Story, Nov #4


The Secret Hymn

Pews were packed in the old church, just as they had been for the past six weeks. There was a new life breathed into the church when Father Gregory assumed his position. He was young, had longish blonde hair that brushed the bottom of his collar, and a way of speaking to a crowd that made everyone feel like he was talking just to them. He was the complete opposite of Father Baker.

No one knew Father Baker was leaving, or where he even went. Father Gregory just showed up that bright, Sunday morning and the town was memorized. Even the children behaved in church. Soon, everyone in town was clambering to come back to church.

Amie and Sarah sat with their parents in the back pew and listened as Father Gregory spoke of the Four Horsemen.

“At least that would give us something to do,” Sarah whispered.

Amie silently giggled. She was as bored as her sister was with New Hope and its old ways. A little excitement never hurt anyone.

Amie pulled out the hymnal and let it fall open to whatever page it wanted and gasped. “Sarah, look at this,” she whispered, pointing to ….

To Be Continued

To reveal what Amie saw, I am tagging Morpethroad.


  1. Copy the story as it appears when you receive it (and the rules please)
  2. Add somehow to the story in which ever style and length you choose
  3. Be sure to pingback or comment on the original post please.
  4. Tag only 1 person to continue the story
  5. Have fun!

What Was It?

The smell of freshly popped pop corn floated upstairs and tickled Jeff’s nose. He rubbed it with the back of his hand and turned the page. The corners of his mouth twitched, but he resisted. He licked his lips and turned the page again. There was no escaping a grin this time. His heart pounded in his chest as the smell of bacon crept under his door. Jeff’s nose twitched as his eyes veered off the page toward the door. His stomach growled, but he simply turned the page again. Eyes wide, drool dripping out one side of his mouth, he panted. His nose twitched and instinct took over. The smell of pizza drove the fifteen-year-old out of his room and down the stairs to the kitchen.

A door slowly opened and a man slid down the hallway and turned into Jeff’s room.

Downstairs Jeff scarfed three slices of pizza, a half a slab of bacon, and an entire bowl of popcorn before the man entered the kitchen.

As if ordered by some unheard voice, Jeff rose from the table and, without a word, returned to the confines of his room.

“Well?” Jeff’s mother asked the man.

He stood in the kitchen and scratched his head. His befuddled face made her chuckle. “It was a computer magazine.”

“Huh?” It was her turn to look befuddled.

He nodded and picked up a piece of pizza. “He’s spent four hours drooling over a computer magazine.”

“What are we going to do with that boy?” She sat at the table and ate a slice of pizza.

“Hope that he gets a girlfriend?”

“Or a boyfriend.”

“Whatever. I’d even settle for an alien.”

She laughed.

Go To Extremes

Some days I feel like I am living in Billy Joel’s song I Go to Extremes.

Some days I have so much energy I can’t sit still and when I do I feel like I am still going a hundred miles an hour. Words pour in and out as if I were in a torrential downpour. The problem is that there is no direction – no need for one.

Other days I zone out on the couch until I realize my entire day is gone and its time to walk to the bus to meet my son.

I started this blog a little over six months and passed 1000 posts this week. I was going to make a celebratory post, but that moment passed without me realizing it. If you are curious, my 1000th post was Keeper of the Doors – Chapter 2. 

One problem with going to extremes is that emotions seem to run high and fast as well. When I have energy, I am happy – I am, but I am also quick to anger (I do control it when my son’s home) but this new Gutenberg system is driving me nuts. I hate that it goes back two spaces if you have a space + a letter, then delete the letter. That is usually when I make mistakes, which means every post is taking me twice as long because I always end up with two words strung together. FRUSTRATING!

I only wished my energy extended to doing housework…lol.

Anyways….enjoy this video.


“Keep trying,” they said.

“You’re really good,” they said.

If I’m so good, then why do I keep getting passed over? Huh?

I know, I know. Not everyone can win. Not everyone can be the best.

Then stop telling me how good I am.

I am good at helping others do what they want.

Get what they want.

You think I’m blind.

You think I don’t see.

It’s all lip service. I’m not good. I don’t belong with the others.

It’s always been that way.

But I didn’t want to think that. I didn’t want to see.

Why can’t I be blind? Why must I see the truth behind the lies!

I would quit, but I have nothing to quit.

How can one quit what is a part of them? Inside of them?

I suppose I can cut it out. Like a jigsaw puzzle. 

Yes, that is what I will do. Become a puzzle.

Take out a piece, and throw it away.

But which shall it be?

Which piece does not belong?

This was inspired by FOWC with Fandango – belong