Stuff It Tuesday. Storetry #4 A collaboration challenge for writers and poets!

This is the fourth installment of ‘Stuff it Tuesdays!’  Time sure does fly doesn’t it!

This week came together nicely despite the fewer number of entries.  I was left wanting to read the next Chapter!

Thank you so much to everyone that has participated so far.  I’ve really loved how all of these Storetries have turned out!

Please watch for next weeks opening paragraph and closing poem it will be listed at the end of this ‘Storetry’ and in the tab entitled Stuff It on my main page.

Now there is more incentive to participate!  I have been putting some thought into these wonderful collaborations and I think with the permission of all of those that have participated in this one and the past 3 that I may publish a free e Book, no one (myself included) would make a profit from it but that contains all of these fantastic ‘Storetries’, complete with every person that has submit to a ‘storetry’s name and blog address in the same fashion they are laid out here.  These are far to good not to share and you will be ‘published’ and the ‘world’ can read your writing/poetry!!  If you do not want to be included in the book I will remove your entry.  I will email everyone that has participated about it when time draws nearer to publishing.

I will do the same for the remaining ‘storetry’ collaboration challenges that I do.

What do you think?  I think it’s a fabulous idea!

So here you have it, this weeks ‘Storetry’ that was mostly a story….   Come on poets, participate!


Storetry #4  The foreigner in a foreign land

He awoke to the dripping sounds of the rain.  He slowly stirred and turned over to peer out the raggedy opening of a window in his hut.  It had been two weeks now that he had been staying in this wet hut.  As he stared off into the rainy sky he was reminded of the journey that led him here.

He rolled over, lit half a cigarette, and watched the smoke arabesque towards the mould-stained ceiling. “Look on the good side,” he muttered, quoting his mother from many years ago. “Nobody is shooting at me, and I have exactly…one, two, three, four…five American cigarettes left.” He took a final puff and arced the butt at a coffee can beside the bed. It missed, but fell into the one next to it, where it made a feeble fsssss in the rainwater at the bottom.

Hopes, dreams, expectations…they all seem faded now. Looking out into the vast expanse of sky brought him to a place of contemplation. What if I fail, what if I realize this is all about my ego, self admiration, to play avenger like in some fantastical story? So many roads I could have taken, is this the right one? The yellow brick road he started on is now covered with fear and doubt. With a sigh he turns over and stares at the makeshift roof saying out loud, “I should have stayed in Kansas”

The rumbling of his empty stomach sounded like the thunder that was now echoing in the distance. Finding food would need to be a priority. There was still a long way to go if he was ever going to make the deadline and it was almost time to leave.  The drab, dereliction of the hut had become a sanctuary for him and he would almost be sad to leave the protection of its’ decaying shell. Time was ticking on and the finality of what was yet to unfold loomed over him heavily like the colossal gloomy clouds which seemed to belong to him alone.

Then he saw them, through the green silver curtain of the forest, their small dark bodies weaving among the thick tall palms.  He looked at his pale hand and then brushed his damp blond hair away from his blue eyes.  He could not blend in. He could barely speak their language.  Yet he wanted to belong, to help, to undo the harm that had been done.  They were coming, all of them, it seemed, coming for him.  He did not know what they would want, but he knew he had to step out of his hut and greet them.

Am I dreaming? He thought.

He suddenly felt cold with the thought of her lying there.

He glimpsed at his hands and in the dark corners of his eyes saw a flashing light.

He grimaced in pain as his heart raced to the height of his throat.

Jumping off the wooden bunk to the floor, he immediately busted through the back door feeling the sting of the wet grass against his bare legs.

The rain brought a finality to the decay of his soul. He stood powerless.  This wasn’t the restorative journey he had yearned for.  A raindrop slilthered its way down his face, as if to taunt and haunt him.  Even the sky was mourning.

The mud squishing between his toes

The villagers and grass huts lined in rows

He looked back

A foreigner in a foreign land

His destruction led by his own people’s hand.


Won’t you join us next week?

Opening Paragraph

The place was crowded with people.  The smell of hot buttery popcorn enticed my nose.  The sounds of people and couples laughing and enjoying the hot summer evening danced on the air.  Flashing lights and rides whipping by the night skyline flashed before my eyes.  It was the night of the Summer Solstice Carnival, my favorite night of the year.


 Closing Poem

What come?  What may.

That summer’s day

Where lovers became friends

And friends were in dismay

The sights and smells

The blinking lights and bells

Slowly begin to fade away

As I stand watching the caravan

Rock and sway…

For other Stuff It ‘Storetry’ Challenge Collaborations Check Here

Week #1 Storetry

Week #2 Storetry

Week #3 Storetry




  1. 1WriteWay

    This really came together wonderfully. Thanks, Jennifer! And I also think the free ebook is a great idea. Thank you for all your hard work!

  2. Pingback: Featured Contributor on WritingsofaMrs Blog | Queen City Addendum

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