Today two people told me, I should start compiling stories. I love hearing stories, writing stories, telling stories, and mostly just noticing the funny little things in life. My goal is to post a short true story every day for the next year. They will not be long, maybe only a paragraph, but they will be true, and remind you of life. I have been thinking about this idea for a while, so I decided to go for it. At some point, I hope to write novels about realistic people. Charles Dickens is my hero, because he wrote about realistic people.
When I was 10 or so, I went over to my aunts house with some of my siblings for the day, while my mom and dad were out doing things. We were playing outside, and picking flowers. Our mom had recently taught us how to suck nectar out of Henbit flowers and we discovered that the type in my aunt’s yard were Henbit. My siblings and I all began eagerly sucking. We soon noticed a HUGE patch of flowers and to our delight found them full of nectar. As we were sucking the stuff down, our aunt said, “Those are the flowers that grow over the septic tank.” We asked what that was, and she told us it was the place, where people’s poo went. We were horrified and spit the flowers out.