Top Ten Songs That Tell Stories

This week’s Top Ten Tuesday is an audio freebie.  It was difficult for me to narrow down my focus–should I do favorite albums?  Favorite podcasts?  Something more themed?

In the end, I decided to center this week’s list around songs that tell stories.  I know that almost every song tells a story in some way.  I could EASILY write a paragraph about each song and why I love it–about the characters, the plot, the writing… but I’m going to let the songs speak for themselves.  Hope you enjoy!

1.) Cleopatra by The Lumineers

2.) Josh McBride by The Head and the Heart Continue reading

Urbana 15: Telling My Story

Last week, I had the opportunity to attend InterVarsity’s trip annual Urbana Conference.  For five days, St. Louis, Missouri, was invaded by 16,000 college students and adults seeking to learn about world missions.  This year’s conference was themed around one very important question: What story will you tell?

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Taken right before one of the large group sessions.

As a writer and avid reader, stories fuel my everyday life.  I breathe them in, soaking in the perspectives of others.  I breathe them out, letting my own experiences take shape through words.  Throughout the week, we heard countless stories from around the world.  We heard from indigenous people in the Pacific Island, refugees in Jordan, college students in Mexico.  We heard from the persecuted church in the Middle East–the stories of men and women imprisoned for their faith.  We heard the stories of our black American brothers and sisters, whose voices have been long silenced by racism and inequality.

We didn’t just hear their stories.  We entered into them.  Multicultural worship is a challenging, humbling experience.  It was uncomfortable at times.  We fumbled our way through Arabic, Korean, Hawaiian, and Swahili, to name a few of the languages.  My mouth stumbled over the strange words and sounds.  Even though it was different and awkward at points, entering into the songs of brothers and sisters from around the world gave me a larger picture of the Kingdom of God.  The Kingdom is for everyone, for every tribe, tongue, and nation.  I got to experience what that looks like at Urbana.

As a writer attending a conference centered around stories, I can’t merely describe what went on.  I need to take up the pen and join in, adding my words.

I suppose my Urbana story starts with answering a question: Why missions?

My whole life, I’ve felt very drawn to Europe.  Growing up, I remember reading about far-away places and having this sense of urgency.  I couldn’t explain it, but I needed to go there.  I needed to see these places with my own eyes.  I needed to walk the streets and see the faces of the people who lived there.  In 2013, I spent a semester studying abroad in London, England.  During my three and a half months there, I traveled a great deal.  Finally, I could see and experience the places I’ve been dreaming about my whole life.  Along the way, I learned a great deal.  I learned that the world is a dark, empty place, and that even though Europe is largely comprised of first-world nations, there are people who desperately need the light and love of Jesus.

Upon returning to school in the United States, it was a matter of months before I felt the need rise up in me again.  I had been thinking and praying about going into ministry for a while, but my thoughts and prayers began to turn overseas.  “What if,” I asked myself, “feeling drawn to Europe isn’t just me wanting to travel?  What if God wired me with this desire, growing it with time, into a calling?”

Eager to dedicate my life to God, I embraced the calling.  He wants me to go to Europe?  I’m all in.  But so much remained uncertain.  Where would I go?  What would I do there?  Who would I serve?  How would I find the money?  What does the missions field even look like?

Attending the largest student missions conference in the world seemed like the logical place to answer these questions.  Last week, I arrived in St. Louis, willing to go, wanting to serve, ready for God to point the way.  What I didn’t realize was that, although I was intellectually ready to take the plunge, my heart had a long way to go.

Let me pause here for a moment.  You should know that, although I feel very deeply, I’m not what one would call an emotional person.  I rarely cry.  I’m not very touchy-feely.  Emotional things don’t seem to impact me like they do others.  It’s as if my heart is sealed behind a series of walls and gates.  Within these walls, I feel very deeply and these feelings guide the majority of the large decisions I make.  But my heart and mind don’t often connect.  It takes time for the right keys to get into the right doors.

When one enters into service for the Kingdom of God, it is important for their heart and mind to align.

Going into Urbana, mine did not.  My brain was ready.  But, frankly, my heart didn’t actually care about the people I was supposed to be going out into the world to serve.  Of course,I didn’t realize any of this until after the fact.  More on that later.

The first half of the conference was extremely affirming.  To share a bit of my testimony, I grew up in a highly politicized church where one was treated differently if they held a different perspective.  My experience with the American Evangelical church is that it places certain values over others.  College was a wonderful time of exploring other worldview and perspectives.  However, I’ve been living at home for the past nine months.  Being back in this highly Republican community has me wondering if my family is crazy for caring about things like racial equality, LGBTQ rights, showing kindness to refugees, affirming women as leaders in the church, etc.  Through speakers and seminars at Urbana, God affirmed that we are not crazy and that we are not the only ones thinking about these issues.  He cares about them too.

As awesome as this affirmation was, I felt like something was missing.  “I’m at the largest student missions conference in the world”, I thought.  “Surely God brought me here to do more than affirm my perspective.”

I was right.

On Tuesday night, the large group session was dedicated to the persecuted church.  Individuals, often unnamed and unseen, told their stories of being imprisoned and tortured for their faith.  They talked about God empowering them to love their captors even in the darkest hours of their lives.  We then were given time and space to pray for the church.  Banners with different countries were raised and we could gather beneath them, praying for each nation.

It was a powerful night–16,000 people lifting their voices in prayer.  As I knelt on the hard concrete praying for Kenya, I felt God’s Spirit rising in me.  As I prayed, my words intangible even to me, I felt the keys to my heart unlock–The layers pulled back.  Finally, the deep desires of my heart were accessible and in the open.

“Lord, I want to go,” I prayed.  “I want to go.  I want to go.  I want to go.”  It was a prayer of frustration.  I came to Urbana hoping to find direction from God that would empower me to take the next step.  Where was my direction?  Where were my answers?  As the dust from my prayer settled, I felt God’s voice: Not yet, Amelia.  Wait.

I was confused.  “What do you mean I have to wait?” I asked God.  “I’m ready!”   But, up until that point, I was ready with my mind.  But my heart was sorely lacking.  That night, God opened the floodgates to my heart and prepared me to not only hear His voice in my mind, but in my spirit.

If I had to describe Wednesday in one word, I would say it was humbling.  With my newly opened heart, I came repeatedly before the Lord and listened to the words He had for me… These words were not comforting.

That morning, our passage in Bible study was the end of Matthew 25, where Jesus divides the sheep from the goats and says, “Whatever you did for the least of these brothers and sisters, you did for me”.  As a large group, we studied the intricacies and implications of the passage deeply.  I emerged with the sense that, despite my readiness to go abroad, I hadn’t given much thought to the people I’d actually be serving.  I realized that when it came to serving others, I didn’t know how.

One of Wednesday’s speakers was David Platt, pastor and author of the books Radical and Follow Me.  His books were the catalysts of my decision to go into ministry.  I read them during a very spiritually challenging season and they pushed my desire to serve God with my life.  It was incredible hearing Platt speak.  The power, authority, and incredible love of God is so present in his voice and words.  He talked about the woman in Matthew 26 who pours a very expensive jar of perfume on Jesus’ head as an act of love and submission.

Platt’s words cut me like knives.  One statement hit my spirit like a ton of bricks: 1425524_1044940998901836_7089898850993416208_n

I see myself in that statement.  Here I was, trying to figure out how to get going when my heart and spirit had completely forgotten why I’m called to go in the first place.  In my ambitions to go abroad, I lost my heart for Christ.  Platt went on to say, “Missions is not meant to be your life.  Christ is your life.  Jesus is worth losing everything for.”

These words are so simple and straightforward, but my heart forgot.  I forgot what it feels like, what it means to love Jesus unconditionally.  My spirit churned and I felt God’s voice rising again, with words that were not comfortable:  Amelia, how can you go into the world and represent My Kingdom if you love yourself more than you love Me?  You want to serve me, but don’t know how.  The answer is simple: love My children.  Care for them.  Give yourself for them.  What you do for them, you do for Me.  Go, Amelia.  Feed My sheep.”

I left large group that day feeling burdened with God’s Spirit, wondering what living out this command looks like in a practical manner.  What does it look like?  How am I to care for others?  What skills and abilities do I have to contribute?  Where do I fit in the grand scheme of things?  How can I serve others with the gifts I have?  As I meditated on my questions, God slowly revealed answers.  I attended more seminars and large group sessions and began to receive smile answers.  I could go into what those answers were, but that would end in lots of tangents.  So I’ll start wrapping this up…

I went into Urbana feeling confident and ready.  I left feeling the opposite–small, weak, and inadequate.  There is so much to process.  There’s so much I don’t know.  Amid a big, dark world… I’m so small.  So unsure.  I’m leaving for England in less than a week and I don’t feel ready.  I’m stepping into the vast unknown with a one-way ticket and have no idea what is in store.

The most terrifying thing is that I honestly don’t know if I’m ever coming back.  At least, not permanently.

But maybe that’s the point.  God isn’t looking for people who are ready.  He’s not interested in how prepared I feel.  He cares about my heart.  He wants me in a position of weakness and humility, for it is then that I need Him most.  At Urbana, He showed me that my prayers need to shift from “Where will I go?” to “Show me how to love others the way You love me”.

I don’t need to have all the answers.  What I need is a heart for Christ.  Like the woman in Matthew with her alabaster jar, I need to place myself under God’s authority.  I need to relinquish control and let my story align with the beautiful story God is writing all across the globe, trusting that God knows what He is doing and that He will provide the next step.

I suppose the title of this post is a bit misleading.  Yes, this is the story of how my life was impacted by attending Urbana.  Additionally, it’s also the beginning of a new story–a story I don’t know the end to–a story in which I don’t hold the pen.  There is still so far to go in the journey of cultivating a heart for others.  But this is a start.

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Gateway Arch at sunrise.  Taken Friday, just before we headed for home.

Blogger Recognition Award

After Writing 101 ended, I kind of crashed and spent my free time binge-watching Netflix for a solid week, leaving me a bit behind on the blog.  I’m slowly catching up on awards.

A couple of weeks ago, Shannon from If You Captured Your Life in Snapshots, What Would It Look Like? nominated me for the Blogger Recognition Award!  It’s designed to spread love among the blogosphere and recognize sites we love.  Part of the award includes sharing

BloggerRecognitionAwardI don’t know if sharing your blogging story is part of the award, but Shannon did in her post, so I’ll continue the trend.

When I was fifteen, I was deep into the Harry Potter fandom.  This was before Tumblr was a thing and, in order to engage with my fellow nerds, I entered discussions on fan forums.  I ended up becoming a core member of a forum dedicated to a particular podcast and, in the process, made my first online friends.  Anna lived in Chicago and liked to knit.  Cathy, who is a fantastic poet, lived in California.  We were all roughly the same age and would spend hours on the forum talking about life, love, and Harry Potter.

One day, Cathy brought up the subject of blogging.  I was an aspiring fan-fiction novelist at the time, so writing was always on my mind.  Being a fan of my work, Cathy suggested I start a blog.  I thought about it for a while and thought, “… why not?”  Having a corner of the internet to myself sounded like fun.

After doing a bit of research, I ended up getting an account on Blogger.  I stayed there for five years, recording the woes of high school and occasionally posting snippets of my writing.  The only people who read my site were fellow writer friends.  Thank GOODNESS.  Blogging back then was a messy affair.  I used my site as a spewing place for all my thoughts and emotions.  Looking back, I’m thankful to not have a wider readership.

When I studied abroad two years ago, I knew that I wanted to start fresh and make a travel blog.  I also knew that I wanted to switch over to WordPress.  So I did!  In the Bellow and the Uproar was born.  Named for a Virginia Woolf quote, it was home to my travels and adventures in England for three and a half months.

When I came home, I knew I didn’t want to go back to the old Blogger site.  It reminded me too much of my high school self and didn’t reflect where I wanted to go from here.  But I still wanted to write.  So, a year and a half ago, Keep Your Feet was born.  I’ve been here ever since.

That, friends, my blogging story!  Starting young has allowed me to grow into myself as a blogger.  I’ve been told I have a distinctive voice in my writing.  Friends say that, when they read my blog, it’s so me that they hear my voice in their head.  There are a lot of things I wish I could go back and un-say, especially on my first blog, but I’m still thankful for the chance to always learn and grow.

Now for Shannon’s bonus question: If you could go anywhere, would you go to a Where or a Who?

My first impression is to say Where.  There are so many dots on my “To-Visit” map.  But I’ve done a great deal of traveling in the past and, although solo adventures are exhilarating in their own way, they’re also a bit lonely.  Seeing the world isn’t as fun if you don’t have someone to share it with.  So I think my answer is Who.  I don’t have many super close friends–only a few people in the world truly know and appreciate all the corners of me, messy bits and all.  The older I get, these few souls seem to move farther and farther away.  One of my dearest friends lives in Japan, others live in Austria, and I’ve got people all over the United States that I miss so much my heart aches.  Seeing them again would make my month.  We’d drink tea and talk for hours.

Feel like this post is missing something?  Check out my personal rules regarding awards on my Award Policies page.

Lilly and the Unicorn Magic

In the midst of cleaning, I’ve discovered many of my early attempts at writing.  Did you know that I wrote a fifty page story about fairies when I was in fifth grade?  Yeah.  Neither did I.

I also discovered the following story that I penned at the age of ten.  I found it to be wonderfully awful, so I present to you:

Lilly and the Unicorn Magic

One lovely day, Princess Lilly of the Fairies was out in the castle gardens with her best friend, Violet.

“Mmm,” said Lilly while sniffing a rose.

“You have such a beautiful garden, Lilly. How do you manage it?” asked Violet.

“Well, we use fairy magic,” replied Lilly.

“Oh yes! Fairy magic! How can I be so stupid?” asked Violet.

“Sorry Violet, Mother is calling me! I’ll meet you at the Daisy Slide this afternoon!”

Lilly rushed into the Rose Palace.

“There you are!” Queen Rose exclaimed. “Didn’t you hear me calling?”

“Mother, I’m fifteen now. You don’t need to worry about me as much,” complained Lilly.

“I know you’re fifteen, but that doesn’t keep a fifteen year old from coming when she’s told”

“Yes, mother,” sighed Lilly.

“Now go up to your room and get changed out of that filthy dress!” Queen Rose ordered.

As Lilly fluttered up to her room, she wondered what it would be like to live a life where there were no rules, no one to boss you around, to be free! Lily chose out a fancy dress and took off her old one. Then she dashed through some corridors, sped into the ballroom, slid down the banister, and hurried into the throne room.

“What took you so long, dear?” Queen Rose asked.

Lilly didn’t answer. She was too fascinated with what she saw. A beautiful princess was standing on a flying carpet with a gift in her hand.

“I am Dawning, the Gypsy princess. I have noticed it is your daughter’s birthday today,” she said.

“I completely forgot!” gasped Queen Rose.

“Me too!” Lilly added.

“Well, at least I remembered!” laughed Dawning. The gypsy handed the present to Lilly. “Open it later,” she said.

Dawning then flew out of the room. An old lady in tattered clothes came in. “I am the unicorn herder, Madiline. Here is my gift to Princess Lilly.” The old lady left the room. She reentered leading a baby unicorn. It was midnight blue with a silver mane and a transparent horn on its head. Its hooves were black as coal and had eyes like the stars in the sky.

“This is Starlight. His mother Moonbeam wanted me to present him as a birthday gift,” Madiline said. Bowing, she left the room. Madiline was a close friend of the queen and always gave Lilly a baby unicorn for her birthday. Lilly received her first one when she was ten. She now has unicorns named Rosebud, Vica Violet, Morning Glory, and Kingstoil. Lilly loved unicorns. Rosebud was due to have a baby!

“Thank you, Maddi! I love him!” said Lily while stroking the mystical animal.

As Madiline left, a fat dwarf came waddling in. “Hullo! I’m Stubbs! Lilly, you’ve grown a lot! Here, in addition to all your emeralds, sapphires, rubies, topazes, amethysts, gold, and silver, I give you a chest of aquamarines!” said the dwarf, who always gave Lilly a chest of gems.

“Thank you again, Stubbs,” said Queen Rose.

From Apple the pixie, Lily got seeds for golden woods. From Melinda the mermaid, Lilly got five beautiful fish. Last, but not least, her fairy godmother Stacivia gave her a magic book.

After a grand feast with her guests, Lilly met Violet at the Daisy Slide.

“Happy birthday!” Violet said and handed a not so neatly wrapped gift to Lilly. Lilly opened it. Inside was s tiny white kitten with a pink nose and blue eyes.

“Wildcat’s kitten!” exclaimed Lilly. “Oh Violet, this is my favorite present of all! What is her name?”

“You can name her,” said Violet.

“Oh wow, I can? Hmm… I dub thee… Snowball!” Lilly petted the kitten. Snowball purred. “Want to see my presents?”

“Sure,” said Violet.

The two girls went to Lilly’s stables. Violet marveled at Starlight’s beauty saying, “Wow, he’s beautiful!” Lilly was feeding Morning Glory a bleakburn berry when she noticed something strange. Rosebud was lying on her back. Her mouth was open and music was coming out of it.

“Violet, quick! It’s Rosebud!” Lilly yelled. They ran to Rosebud.

A few minutes went by. Suddenly, there was a flash of light. Lying next to Rosebud was a baby unicorn. Rosebud neighed.

“His name is Bristlethorn,” said Lilly.

“How do you know?” asked Violet.

“Rosebud told me.”

That night, Lilly told her mother all about Rosebud’s baby. “His name is Bristlethorn!” said Lily.

“Bristlethorn? You should have named him better,” said Queen Rose.

“I can’t name him, Mother. I told you, Rosebud named him and told me,” said Lilly.

“Well, your horse doesn’t have good taste then,” replied the Queen.

“Unicorn,” corrected Lilly.

“Whatever. Off to bed now. You have your ball tomorrow,” said Queen Rose.

Lilly flew up to her room. She put on her nightgown and crawled into her very large bed. She dreamed of unicorns all night.

The next morning, Lilly looked at her calendar. It was the first day of a new month. Each month had twenty-five days. It was the first day of Jewly. The day of Lilly’s ball came. Princesses from all over came. Lilly was only a child, but being a princess she had a ball every year. Fairies live until they’re about three hundred, so you are not of age until you are one hundred. Lilly was stuck inside all day getting her make up on. She had a marvelous dress to wear.

At six o’clock, the guests arrived. All the snobby dukes and princesses came. To Lilly’s surprise, her older brother was there. He had run away ten years earlier. Lilly ran up to him and gave him a big hug.

“Cornflower! What are you doing here?” Lilly asked him.

“I have come home to live,” he said, “and I have brought something with me.”

“What is it?” Lilly asked in excitement.

Cornflower motioned to a lady. The woman stepped forward. She was tall, had flowing honey brown hair, and amber eyes.

“This is Primrose, my wife and your new sister. Primrose, this is Lilly my sister,” said Cornflower.

“Hello, Lilly. I am so excited about getting to know you. You can call me Aunt Rosie,” said Primrose.

“But you’re my sister,” stated Lilly.

“Well, call me Rosie,” said Primrose.

After the ball was over, Primrose didn’t act as sweet anymore. She interrupted the Queen and called her mom. She was always muttering, “When I am queen…” Under her breath.

Months went by. Lilly’s birthday came again. She got many presents. Her new unicorn was named Firespin and he was blazing orange. Rosebud had another baby. She was silver. Her name was Silvermane. Mazy Daisy had a baby. She was sky blue and was named Skylight. Lucky Clover’s baby was black. Her name was Duskfall. Morning Glory’s baby was a she and was white as snow and was named Snowmane. Vica Violet had a golden baby and he was named MorningSun. Now Lilly had fourteen unicorns.

Primrose had a baby boy named Snapdragon. She cooed over her little boy. He was the heir to the throne. Queen Rose got very ill. Lily rushed to her room. She stood at her mother’s side.

“I love you, Lilly. Primrose is an ugly gift. I love you, Lilly,” with that, the queen fell unconscious.

Right then, Primrose rushed into the room. “Lilly! What have you done? Oh my god, she’s dead!” she screeched. She pushed Lilly from the room. So passed Rose, Queen of the fairies, daughter of Elenore. Lilly ran to her room and bawled. Primroe didn’t allow her to see her mother’s funeral. Lilly had managed to keep her unicorns secret from Primrose and Cornflower. One day she was followed by little Snapdragon to the unicorns. Snapdragon ran to toll his mommy about the unicorns. Primrose followed her angel to the stables.

“Lilly! What are you doing! Those are dangerous beasts!” Primrose yelled. Lilly jumped. “Now let’s cut off their horns and be all-powerful!” Primrose said, her eyes glinting.

She grabbed a scythe from the wall and was about to swing it at Starlight when Lilly rushed to block the blow. Lilly thought it was the end. A light blocked the blow and saved Lilly. Primrose fled in fear.

Lilly had trained her unicorns to come when she whistled. “When I whistle, come. Goodbye!” Lilly flew up to her room. The year Lilly turned sixteen she got a box that holds any amount of things inside from Dawning. It could grow or shrink to the size needed. Lilly packed her things into the box, shrunk it so it would fit in her pocket, and went to her garden. She collected all the seeds from the flowers and put them into separate pouches. Lilly grew expensive flowers and gave them to Violet. Violet’s mother was a servant in the castle so Violet was Lilly’s only friend. After Lilly collected the flower seeds, she set the unicorns free. Then she ran to the hut Violet and her family lived in. Lilly knocked on the door. Violet opened it.

“Lilly, what are you doing here?” asked Violet.

“Primrose found the unicorns. I set them free and am running away. Do you know where I can stay?” asked Lilly.

“Yeah, see that open lot next to our house? Build a house there,” answered Violet.

Lilly went to the lot and poured lots of fairy dust on it. A large hut magically grew there. Lilly went to the hut and opened the door. It was empty with a dirt floor. Lilly unpacked her things. She had a long day and was exhausted. She crawled into her bed and went to sleep.

She woke up hungry. She had breakfast and went to Violet’s house. Violet came out carrying a leaf bag full of books.

“Time to go to school,” she said. They walked to the schoolhouse. There, a group of girls were chatting. “Hi girls, this is Lilly. She will be joining our group. So introduce yourselves,” said Violet.

A girl with honey colored hair and brown eyes stepped forward. “I’m Iris. Pleased to meet you,” she said.

A girl with blonde hair and blue eyes said, “I’m Buttercup. How do you do?”

“I’m Chicory,” said a blonde curly-haired girl with blue eyes.

“I am Columbine,” said a girl with brown eyes and short brown hair.

“Hi Lilly! I’m Thrift!” said a girl with short, curly red hair and green eyes.

A girl with long gold-brown hair said, “I’m Yarrow.”

Last , a girl with curly dark brown hair and brown eyes said, “Hello, my name is Ladysmock. You can call me Lady.”

THIS IS AS FAR AS I GOT.

Here are my thoughts:

  • At beginning, it says she takes her dress off, but never says she puts the new one on. So basically Lilly goes through her entire birthday celebration naked.
  • How do you forget your birthday when there’s all these people giving you gifts?
  • Lilly never actually opened the gift from Dawning the Gypsy Princess
  • If fairies live to be 300 and she gets gifts like this every year, where will she put it all?
  • The unicorn birthing scene was pretty magical.  I mean… music comes out of their mouth, there’s a flash of light… and voila!  Hello, baby unicorn!
  • Lilly’s mom is SUPER unsupportive.  Woah.
  • The passage of time is really weird
  • Cornflower??? What was I thinking???  What kind of name is that?
  • All of a sudden all the unicorns start having lots of babies and I’m torn between being disgusted by their awfully written descriptions and the desire to own a unicorn army of my own.
  • Why was I so obsessed with flower names?
  • The queen’s death is the most dramatic, masterful death ever created in all of literature.  Also, her last words… what.
  • DUDE, Primrose… chopping off the unicorn’s horns?  That got dark fast.
  • You really ran far from home, Lilly. You really think Primrose won’t be able to find you in a hut on the castle grounds?  Nice work.
  • How many people in this story have honey-brown hair?  And seriously… how many friends are there at school?

All I know from finding this story is that I was a very special child.

What do you think, readers?  What’s the weirdest part of the story?  What’s your favorite part?  If you could re-write it, what would you change and why?

Leapfrog writing

A great and glorious tale was born during my innovative creative writing class today. It was an in-class activity that our textbook referred to as “Leapfrog”.  Here’s how it works.  We got into groups to write a collaborative story.  The only catch was only one person could write at a time.  When the professor gave the cue, we had to switch writers.  The time slots weren’t consistent, so at points we would madly get a few words in before handing it off.  At the end, everyone read their creations to the class.  The result was a bunch of hilarious nonsense that, somehow, seemed like creative genius.

Here is the story I worked on with classmates Meara and Adam.  I just read it aloud to  my roommate, Katie, and she insisted it needs to be shared with the world.

~~~

The gladiator stood in the center of the dusty floor over his vanquished heathen foe. “GrrrRAR,” he said. “GRRRRRARRARARARAAGGHH.” He was a skeleton imprisoned in a deep pit of a great gelatinous beast.

“Oh my goodness,” he cried one hundred years later. “I have been trapped in this pit for so long, I no longer remember the taste of peanuts!”

Then suddenly, he died. From the peanuts.

We pan over to an empty field, below a forlorn mountain.

There was a cave at the bottom into a lake of lava.

A rabbit stood above the field and cave, majestically adorned with a cape made from the FLAYED scales of the leviathan that dwells in the lava. “Ahoy!” The rabbit was dead. THE PLAGUE HAD CLAIMED ANOTHER.

And no one heard of the terrible beastie again, for he had sated his hunger for impossibility, and died.

~~~

Can you tell what parts are mine?