Today, Monday 27th April 2015 is National Tell A Story Day and Mecca Bingo have challenged me to come up with my very own story.
I have always enjoyed writing but one thing I often struggle with is writing a story, it just doesn’t come naturally to me. I can write about my thoughts and feelings with ease, the words just seem to flow from my fingers but I haven’t quite honed my skills for story-telling. I cringe if the Beans ask me to tell them a story and I envy those parents who can just reel off an amazing adventure which takes their children’s minds away to a different world.
Curly has a natural skill for story-telling, he has always had a vivid imagination since he was very young. I would sit and listen to him playing with his figures and the way that all of the Beans play figures together now, they clearly have great imagination when they take the time to wake it up and use it.
At school Curly has been praised for his story-telling and writing skills. There was one piece in particular that we were all extremely proud of so I asked Curly if he would like me to publish it for him on Mummy Matters and he was delighted. Curly has great interest in ‘war’ and often writes stories centred around war, this is one such story . . .
Metal rain pounded the dugout. The rattling of machine guns, we were up in 5 seconds and were on the fire step firing rounds blindly into the smoke and hellish fires of no man’s land.
Then they came. Racing towards our wire, a platoon of grey ghosts in the mist. They fell by the dozens when hit by our bullets. There were yelps of triumph and I could hear the the cries of ‘yes, I hit one! Take that!’ but not me, these poor tormented souls were being forced to run into the hell-fire of our guns, the explosions of our shells, and most probably look death in the face.
Then the whistles blew, it was time to go over the top. We clambered over and ran, shooting at will. A shell went off behind me and me to the ground.
My ears were ringing, my senses scrambled. I got up and charged on. Then there was a strange stabbing pain in my chest. I looked down, I’d been hit. I fell over into the mud and took one last look at the carnage around me before slipping into death’s embrace.
It’s a powerful piece of writing for such a young boy but Curly has always had a passion for reading which I believe has helped to fuel his imagination. I am so proud of how much all of our Beans love reading. I didn’t find a thirst for reading until I was a young adult and I wonder how much better my imagination would have been had I found that passion earlier in life.