Another week gone, and what a week its been, a trip to Berlin with dear lunatic friends, travel by Plane, Boat, Taxi and Beer bike and now back to the mundanity of work life and the excitement of Wednesday mornings when the wonderful Rochelle hosts the Club we call The Friday Fictioneers, and this day is a special day for her as she marks 7 years doing this! That is amazing and thank goodness she has, what an outlet this is for inspired fiction from all over the globe; long may it continue.
A special mention goes to Roger Bultot who provided this lovely photo.
So without further ado, I shall don my special hat and trousers and think very hard.
On my Marks….
The commonly held belief was the beanstalk was felled, the giant plummeted to his death whilst chasing after Jack who managed to escape to safety, just avoiding trituration.
No one had missed the mysterious magic beans merchant who melted as soon as he had materialised; following Jack up the beanstalk a day later.
He’d hidden in the Giant’s beer store in the Castle in the clouds, drunk far too much and passed out; missing Jack’s fantastically pettifogged means of escape.
Wandering the cloisters, planting mixed magic beans, he hopes for a giant spider plant he can descend to earth.
There we go, 100 words on the nose, “What the magic beans merchant did next” all true and typical of the sly street vendor.