One of my favourite parts of the writer’s group is getting to see all the different ways people use the prompts. Not just in terms of how their story differs from mine (although that is wonderful), but seeing how they approach the task every week. Trying new techniques (using the prompt at the beginning of a story, at the end, somewhere in the middle, or just as a concept that isn’t directly stated) and watching as everyone figures out what works best for them.

One of the members of the group sometimes connects her stories throughout the weeks using the same characters and settings. As simple a technique as this seems, it had never before occurred to me to approach it like that. But last week I made a somewhat unintentional connection and decided that I loved the technique and should keep on going. It’s such an interesting way to write a longer piece of fiction. Maybe it’ll work, maybe it won’t but I am excited to see where it leads.

Here’s the second part of my continuing story using the prompt she stepped onto the rickety wooden bridge.

By Genevieve Clovis

Stella skipped through the forest humming to herself, savouring the cool earth against her bare feet. The forest was tranquil and a welcome change from the bustling activity of the village. Harvest days were her favourite. And now that she was old enough she was entrusted to make the journey on her own. Stella had a routine. She walked leisurely into the center of the forest and collected her harvest of medicinal plants on the way back out. She knew all the best spots for each plant and could make the journey with barely any thought.

With the creek burbling just ahead Stella stopped and put down her basket. She snapped a few branches off a young aspen and quickly stripped the leaves off before tucking the branches into the basket. Standing up she noticed a deep hole in the tree. It was fresh and oozed its sticky sap.

“Who hurt you Mr. Aspen?” Stella asked touching what looked like a stab wound. With no answer forthcoming Stella picked up her basket and continued on her way.

The creak trickled happily, water sparkling in the afternoon sun. Usually she forded across here but the creak was inflated by recent rainstorms and her stepping stones were well below the surface. Instead Stella headed to a nearby bridge she used when the water became too cold.

Stella stepped onto the rickety wooden bridge, it swayed and creaked beneath her. Halfway across she stopped. The hand rail that still ran the length of the bridge had blood on it. She looked around trying to determine if there was an injured animal nearby. Her eye caught on something unusually blue in the water and she went to investigate.