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December 11, 2011

Wrting Group Homage

by DMWood

“Lions and tigers and bears, oh my!”

“No, grand-dad.  That’s not the story I want.  You know the one.  The one with the leopard, the ships in the night, the monsters on holiday, the lykens and all those other creatures.”

The slightly balding man pulled his grand-daughter higher up on his lap and smiled.  Holding her close, he said, “You must mean the one that occurred that spring of 2010.”

“Yes, yes, that one.”  The red-haired girl settled herself in his lap staring into his brown eyes.  “I like that one.”

He looked through the window to their left and remembered that wonderful period when he was a young man.  The group had come together, almost by chance.  The two leaders had announced an opportunity for exploring their minds, for challenging their abilities and for shaping their future.  He had joined, not really knowing what benefits he would enjoy.

It had started with that simple open-ended statement, “A writer is…” and had continued with the photos, the toy soldiers, the haiku and the many other prompts.  Each Saturday brought a new revelation, not only of the amazing skills of the others in attendance but also the depths of imagination he did not realize he had.  Those two wonderful people had provided an opportunity, opened a door onto his soul.

The little girl said, “Grand-dad, start the story.”  Her eyes pleaded with him to repeat once again his memories about that time.

“Sure, honey.  Let me collect my thoughts,” he responded.  His memories had not faded over all these years.  The Leopard and Joon bug had nurtured the group, encouraged them to explore their own ideas and put pen to paper, the old fashioned way.  It was only as a result of those two wonderful individuals that he had finally grown courageous enough to actually write the book that had allowed him the opportunity to express the ideas that had lay hidden in his heart.  He smiled down at this beautiful child and wondered if he would have the same skill to open her heart as well.


He smiled again and began,  “One Saturday in January….”

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