“Rumors persisted that long ago, though no body had ever been recovered, someone had died in the cave we were about to explore. Some poor soul named Joe had come to his horrible, unfortunate end lost in the depths of the local cavern outside of town. Being a boy of nine, almost 10, with my trusty sidekick of 7, Chris, the lure of adventure and thrill of exploration would not stop us from entering that very cave urban legend claimed was haunted.
In the sunlight outside we had no fear.
In the darkness inside there was nothing but.
A sudden cave-in had unexpectedly trapped us inside the earth’s dark tunnels. Chris was pinned with his foot jammed under a rock. My arm was bruised and bloody. As our eyes adjusted to the swallowing gloom we spied, there at our feet, the bleached, bare bones of the former cave explorer lost in the distant past.
Then the bones moved.”
What was I thinking!
My favorite times in grade four were the last period of each Wednesday afternoon; story writing time! Miss Hamel would pass around pictures to everyone and our assignment was to write a story based on what the picture displayed. Sometimes I was lucky enough to get a fun picture, other times not. During the Spring of ’74 as the school year was winding down, probably because she had run out of pictures, Miss Hamel let us write a story of our own choosing.
My choice was a piece of fiction about Chris and I trapped in a cave with the reanimated skeleton of old Joe Derdock set on killing us. It was with this story I did something that, as far as I know, had never been done before in my grade four language class. I ended the story with this statement, Stay tuned for part two!
Miss Hamel would often pick a story or two to read out to the class, and that day she picked mine. I still recall the sound of my classmates collective groans as they were left hanging from a cliff. We want more they told Miss Hamel. We want part two! I still remember the feeling it gave me deep inside, hearing the desire for more of my story. I liked that feeling. I look back at that moment in my life and understand it was then and there the storyteller in me was born and I liked having an audience.
So to answer the question, “What were you thinking when you first started your blog?” The answer is simple. I was thinking that four decades later, I am still a storyteller and I still want an audience.
Out of the seven billion people now roaming the surface of this planet, except the few one or two trapped in caves beneath fighting for survival against living skeletons, that audience appears to be you.
I think I still like that feeling!