Monday, December 10, 2007

Post-apocalyptic Meme

I've been tagged again, this time by the brilliant Whiskeymarie, by way of Splotchy, who writes:



"This has probably been done before, but that is not stopping me, oh no.Here's what I would like to do. I want to create a story that branches out in a variety of different, unexpected ways. I don't know how realistic it is, but that's what I'm aiming for. Hopefully, at least one thread of the story can make a decent number of hops before it dies out.If you are one of the carriers of this story virus (i.e. you have been tagged and choose to contribute to it), you will have one responsibility, in addition to contributing your own piece of the story: you will have to tag at least one person that continues your story thread. So, say you tag five people. If four people decide to not participate, it's okay, as long as the fifth one does. And if all five participate, well that's five interesting threads the story spins off into.Not a requirement, but something your readers would appreciate: to help people trace your own particular thread of the narrative, it will be helpful if you include links to the chapters preceding yours."



I woke up hungry. I pulled my bedroom curtain to the side and looked out on a hazy morning. I dragged myself into the kitchen, in search of something to eat. I reached for a jar of applesauce sitting next to the sink, and found it very cold to the touch. I opened the jar and realized it was frozen. (Splotchy)


I was used to the house being quite cold in the mornings, as the night log usually burns out around one AM when I am dreaming cozily under my covers, not normally waking to put a new one on until morning. I was surprised because on the rare occasions that it actually had reached sub-freezing temperatures in the house, I had awakened in the night to restart the fire. I would have been worried about the pipes before P-Day, but there hadn’t been running water in two years and that was one of the few advantages to being dependent on rainwater, no pipes. (Freida Bee)



I rummaged around in the kitchen and found one of the few things that hadn't frozen overnight to eat- an expired granola bar. "Better than nothing", I muttered to myself as I tore off the wrapper and took a bite, trying to not chip a tooth in the process.I thought I should go out to the shed and bring in more wood. The mind-numbing cold snap that had set in over the last few days seemed to be in no hurry to leave. Pulling on my heavy coat and wool hat, I considered for a moment what lay ahead for the day. Normally I would spend much of the day making any needed repairs to the house, cleaning, reading various newsletters, cooking, and just trying to keep busy in general. With no job to fill my time anymore I have found my newfound "freedom" to be both a blessing and a curse. Ever since P-day, the only job most of us have is to sit in our homes and find something, anything, to pass the time.Well, that- and to stay alive. (Whiskeymarie)


I reached the woodshed I’d built from the remains of our fence, and heard a rustling. Fearing one of the wild dogs that now roamed the neighborhood, I crept back to the house for the gun my husband left with me before he volunteered to join the fighting. My hand was shaking so badly, I didn’t think I could pull a trigger, so I also grabbed an old broomstick to use as a club. My son tried to follow me, and I ordered him back inside; he obeyed, frightened by the harshness of my tone. He seemed not to sense how terrified I was and I was glad. Inching toward the shed, glancing backward every few steps to be sure the children were staying inside, I heard the rustle again, accompanied by a very human cough.
“Who is it?” I shouted, in as angry and menacing a voice as I could muster.
No response.
“Damn it, I know you’re in there! I have a gun! Come out with your hands up, or I’ll just start shooting!”
“Don’t shoot!” said the voice, and
(CDP--someone else will have to pick up at the cliffhanger and tell us who was attached to the voice).

Now, the real dilemma. Who to tag? I'm running out of people, having already tagged most of the people I "know" out here. I have thus far neither tagged nor been tagged by Dguzman, Dcup, and Wyldth1ng, so you're all it.

13 comments:

dguzman said...

I'm actually glad you tagged me--I got tagged last week and then completely forgot who tagged me, and then I didn't copy the story, so I had no idea what to do!

Thanks--I'll do my best!

dguzman said...

Oh gees--I just read your cliffhanger! OMG... okay--I'm thinking....

CDP said...

I was going to continue, but I thought that I'd let someone else decide who was in my woodshed.

Wyldth1ng said...

It is up.
Not the way you wanted though.

CDP said...

That's OK, it's out of my hands once I tag someone.

Sauntering Soul said...

I've actually thought about doing something similar to this. Of course, I never did. But I'm glad someone else started it because this is really kind of cool!

Whiskeymarie said...

Great addition!
This was an interesting meme- glad you took the bait!

Splotchy said...

Very nice!

I picked up this thread over at Dguzman's.

Thanks a lot for being infected.

dguzman said...

all done--at my political bloggy. Thanks!

Kawana Aminata Oliver said...

Hmmm I may tag myself ;-)

CDP said...

Splotchy--it was fun!
Dguzman--I'm coming right over there
KAO--nice to "meet" you! I'll come and see if you do tag yourself.

Worker Mommy said...

Can't wait to see who's in the shed...I kind of wished you would have written just a little more because I know I would have just been enthralled by who's in the woodshed and what the hell they did when they came out...

FranIAm said...

I got tagged by Wyld (although I had done this in a variant incarnation directly from Splotchy) so I did it again on this thread.

This is a very insane kind of fun!

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