Story time thread

There are a great many marvelous writers in the RHP family, and I wondered if we could, between us, write a story, one sentence at a time and see where it goes to? If it is something of interest, then I have made a suggested starting point below:



Once upon a time, lived a very, very old man called Eric, who had lived a most adventurous lifetime.

@paul-a-roberts said
There are a great many marvelous writers in the RHP family, and I wondered if we could, between us, write a story, one sentence at a time and see where it goes to? If it is something of interest, then I have made a suggested starting point below:



Once upon a time, lived a very, very old man called Eric, who had lived a most adventurous lifetime.

Once upon a time, lived a very, very old man called Eric, who had lived a most adventurous lifetime. Indeed, his very birth into the world had been one of extraordinary circumstance and it was very near-miraculous that he existed at all.

@paul-a-roberts said
Once upon a time, lived a very, very old man called Eric, who had lived a most adventurous lifetime.

However, he had started to notice that the interludes between regular events in his weekly and monthly routines seemed like they were growing shorter which made him feel his life was starting to fly by at a pace he found unsettling.

@ghost-of-a-duke said
Once upon a time, lived a very, very old man called Eric, who had lived a most adventurous lifetime. Indeed, his very birth into the world had been one of extraordinary circumstance and it was very near-miraculous that he existed at all.

Once upon a time, lived a very, very old man called Eric, who had lived a most adventurous lifetime. Indeed, his very birth into the world had been one of extraordinary circumstance and it was very near-miraculous that he existed at all. His father was wounded, in a most horrendous accident, involving a German bayonet, during WW1.

@great-big-stees said
Once upon a time, lived a very, very old man called Eric, who had lived a most adventurous lifetime. Indeed, his very birth into the world had been one of extraordinary circumstance and it was very near-miraculous that he existed at all. His father was wounded, in a most horrendous accident, involving a German bayonet, during WW1.

Once upon a time, lived a very, very old man called Eric, who had lived a most adventurous lifetime. Indeed, his very birth into the world had been one of extraordinary circumstance and it was very near-miraculous that he existed at all. His father was wounded, in a most horrendous accident, involving a German bayonet, during WW1. Coincidentally, at precisely the same time, his mother was also seriously injured in a house fire, barely escaping with her life.


(Sorry FMF, you got squeezed out).

@ghost-of-a-duke said
Once upon a time, lived a very, very old man called Eric, who had lived a most adventurous lifetime. Indeed, his very birth into the world had been one of extraordinary circumstance and it was very near-miraculous that he existed at all. His father was wounded, in a most horrendous accident, involving a German bayonet, during WW1. Coincidentally, at precisely the same ...[text shortened]... usly injured in a house fire, barely escaping with her life.


(Sorry FMF, you got squeezed out).

Once upon a time, lived a very, very old man called Eric, who had lived a most adventurous lifetime. Indeed, his very birth into the world had been one of extraordinary circumstance and it was very near-miraculous that he existed at all. His father was wounded, in a most horrendous accident, involving a German bayonet, during WW1. Coincidentally, at precisely the same time, his mother was also seriously injured in a house fire, barely escaping with her life. They met at a rehabilitation hospital in England where, as luck would have it, their physiotherapist, was a mutual friend of both.

@great-big-stees said
Once upon a time, lived a very, very old man called Eric, who had lived a most adventurous lifetime. Indeed, his very birth into the world had been one of extraordinary circumstance and it was very near-miraculous that he existed at all. His father was wounded, in a most horrendous accident, involving a German bayonet, during WW1. Coincidentally, at precisely the same ...[text shortened]... ospital in England where, as luck would have it, their physiotherapist, was a mutual friend of both.

Once upon a time, lived a very, very old man called Eric, who had lived a most adventurous lifetime. Indeed, his very birth into the world had been one of extraordinary circumstance and it was very near-miraculous that he existed at all. His father was wounded, in a most horrendous accident, involving a German bayonet, during WW1. Coincidentally, at precisely the same time, his mother was also seriously injured in a house fire, barely escaping with her life. They met at a rehabilitation hospital in England where, as luck would have it, their physiotherapist, was a mutual friend of both.
"Fate seems to have wanted you to meet," he had told them, "I wonder to what end?"

@ghost-of-a-duke said
Once upon a time, lived a very, very old man called Eric, who had lived a most adventurous lifetime. Indeed, his very birth into the world had been one of extraordinary circumstance and it was very near-miraculous that he existed at all. His father was wounded, in a most horrendous accident, involving a German bayonet, during WW1. Coincidentally, at precisely the same ...[text shortened]... friend of both.
"Fate seems to have wanted you to meet," he had told them, "I wonder to what end?"

Once upon a time, lived a very, very old man called Eric, who had lived a most adventurous lifetime. Indeed, his very birth into the world had been one of extraordinary circumstance and it was very near-miraculous that he existed at all. His father was wounded, in a most horrendous accident, involving a German bayonet, during WW1. Coincidentally, at precisely the same time, his mother was also seriously injured in a house fire, barely escaping with her life. They met at a rehabilitation hospital in England where, as luck would have it, their physiotherapist, was a mutual friend of both.
"Fate seems to have wanted you to meet," he had told them, "I wonder to what end?" In his, now, squeaky voice, Berty said, " Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're going to get".

@great-big-stees said
Once upon a time, lived a very, very old man called Eric, who had lived a most adventurous lifetime. Indeed, his very birth into the world had been one of extraordinary circumstance and it was very near-miraculous that he existed at all. His father was wounded, in a most horrendous accident, involving a German bayonet, during WW1. Coincidentally, at precisely the same ...[text shortened]... aky voice, Berty said, " Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're going to get".

Once upon a time, lived a very, very old man called Eric, who had lived a most adventurous lifetime. Indeed, his very birth into the world had been one of extraordinary circumstance and it was very near-miraculous that he existed at all. His father was wounded, in a most horrendous accident, involving a German bayonet, during WW1. Coincidentally, at precisely the same time, his mother was also seriously injured in a house fire, barely escaping with her life. They met at a rehabilitation hospital in England where, as luck would have it, their physiotherapist, was a mutual friend of both.
"Fate seems to have wanted you to meet," he had told them, "I wonder to what end?" In his, now, squeaky voice, Berty said, " Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're going to get".
As it transpired, fate had decided to give them a son, born into the world at a plump 13 pounds and 3 ounces.

@ghost-of-a-duke said
Once upon a time, lived a very, very old man called Eric, who had lived a most adventurous lifetime. Indeed, his very birth into the world had been one of extraordinary circumstance and it was very near-miraculous that he existed at all. His father was wounded, in a most horrendous accident, involving a German bayonet, during WW1. Coincidentally, at precisely the same ...[text shortened]... nspired, fate had decided to give them a son, born into the world at a plump 13 pounds and 3 ounces.

Once upon a time, lived a very, very old man called Eric, who had lived a most adventurous lifetime. Indeed, his very birth into the world had been one of extraordinary circumstance and it was very near-miraculous that he existed at all. His father was wounded, in a most horrendous accident, involving a German bayonet, during WW1. Coincidentally, at precisely the same time, his mother was also seriously injured in a house fire, barely escaping with her life. They met at a rehabilitation hospital in England where, as luck would have it, their physiotherapist, was a mutual friend of both.
"Fate seems to have wanted you to meet," he had told them, "I wonder to what end?" In his, now, squeaky voice, Berty said, " Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're going to get".
As it transpired, fate had decided to give them a son, born into the world at a plump 13 pounds and 3 ounces. Which was a record weight for the hospital and they, Berty and Gert, decided to call him Harold (who would eventually become Prime Minister of Britain).

@great-big-stees said
Once upon a time, lived a very, very old man called Eric, who had lived a most adventurous lifetime. Indeed, his very birth into the world had been one of extraordinary circumstance and it was very near-miraculous that he existed at all. His father was wounded, in a most horrendous accident, involving a German bayonet, during WW1. Coincidentally, at precisely the same ...[text shortened]... Berty and Gert, decided to call him Harold (who would eventually become Prime Minister of Britain).

Once upon a time, lived a very, very old man called Eric, who had lived a most adventurous lifetime. Indeed, his very birth into the world had been one of extraordinary circumstance and it was very near-miraculous that he existed at all. His father was wounded, in a most horrendous accident, involving a German bayonet, during WW1. Coincidentally, at precisely the same time, his mother was also seriously injured in a house fire, barely escaping with her life. They met at a rehabilitation hospital in England where, as luck would have it, their physiotherapist, was a mutual friend of both.
"Fate seems to have wanted you to meet," he had told them, "I wonder to what end?"
In his, now, squeaky voice, Berty said, " Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're going to get".
As it transpired, fate had decided to give them a son, born into the world at a plump 13 pounds and 3 ounces. - Which was a record weight for the hospital and they, Berty and Gert, decided to call him Harold (who would eventually become Prime Minister of Britain). Of course, young Harold had grown up hating his name and had insisted on being referred to by his middle name, Eric.

@ghost-of-a-duke said
Once upon a time, lived a very, very old man called Eric, who had lived a most adventurous lifetime. Indeed, his very birth into the world had been one of extraordinary circumstance and it was very near-miraculous that he existed at all. His father was wounded, in a most horrendous accident, involving a German bayonet, during WW1. Coincidentally, at precisely the same ...[text shortened]... Harold had grown up hating his name and had insisted on being referred to by his middle name, Eric.

Once upon a time, lived a very, very old man called Eric, who had lived a most adventurous lifetime. Indeed, his very birth into the world had been one of extraordinary circumstance and it was very near-miraculous that he existed at all. His father was wounded, in a most horrendous accident, involving a German bayonet, during WW1. Coincidentally, at precisely the same time, his mother was also seriously injured in a house fire, barely escaping with her life. They met at a rehabilitation hospital in England where, as luck would have it, their physiotherapist, was a mutual friend of both.
"Fate seems to have wanted you to meet," he had told them, "I wonder to what end?"
In his, now, squeaky voice, Berty said, " Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're going to get".
As it transpired, fate had decided to give them a son, born into the world at a plump 13 pounds and 3 ounces. - Which was a record weight for the hospital and they, Berty and Gert, decided to call him Harold (who would eventually become Prime Minister of Britain). Of course, young Harold had grown up hating his name and had insisted on being referred to by his middle name, Eric.
Eric’s adventures began almost immediately when, at just 18 months of age Gert sat him on the kitchen draining board whilst she did the ironing.

@kevcvs57 said
Once upon a time, lived a very, very old man called Eric, who had lived a most adventurous lifetime. Indeed, his very birth into the world had been one of extraordinary circumstance and it was very near-miraculous that he existed at all. His father was wounded, in a most horrendous accident, involving a German bayonet, during WW1. Coincidentally, at precisely the same time, ...[text shortened]... hen, at just 18 months of age Gert sat him on the kitchen draining board whilst she did the ironing.

Once upon a time, lived a very, very old man called Eric, who had lived a most adventurous lifetime. Indeed, his very birth into the world had been one of extraordinary circumstance and it was very near-miraculous that he existed at all. His father was wounded, in a most horrendous accident, involving a German bayonet, during WW1. Coincidentally, at precisely the same time, his mother was also seriously injured in a house fire, barely escaping with her life. They met at a rehabilitation hospital in England where, as luck would have it, their physiotherapist, was a mutual friend of both.
"Fate seems to have wanted you to meet," he had told them, "I wonder to what end?"
In his, now, squeaky voice, Berty said, " Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're going to get".
As it transpired, fate had decided to give them a son, born into the world at a plump 13 pounds and 3 ounces. - Which was a record weight for the hospital and they, Berty and Gert, decided to call him Harold (who would eventually become Prime Minister of Britain). Of course, young Harold had grown up hating his name and had insisted on being referred to by his middle name, Eric.

Eric’s adventures began almost immediately when, at just 18 months of age Gert sat him on the kitchen draining board whilst she did the ironing. His inquisitive nature led to his attempting to climb down the drain, his podgy fingers getting firmly trapped in the process.

@paul-a-roberts said
Once upon a time, lived a very, very old man called Eric, who had lived a most adventurous lifetime. Indeed, his very birth into the world had been one of extraordinary circumstance and it was very near-miraculous that he existed at all. His father was wounded, in a most horrendous accident, involving a German bayonet, during WW1. Coincidentally, at precisely the same ...[text shortened]... to his attempting to climb down the drain, his podgy fingers getting firmly trapped in the process.

Once upon a time, lived a very, very old man called Eric, who had lived a most adventurous lifetime. Indeed, his very birth into the world had been one of extraordinary circumstance and it was very near-miraculous that he existed at all. His father was wounded, in a most horrendous accident, involving a German bayonet, during WW1. Coincidentally, at precisely the same time, his mother was also seriously injured in a house fire, barely escaping with her life. They met at a rehabilitation hospital in England where, as luck would have it, their physiotherapist, was a mutual friend of both.
"Fate seems to have wanted you to meet," he had told them, "I wonder to what end?"
In his, now, squeaky voice, Berty said, " Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're going to get".
As it transpired, fate had decided to give them a son, born into the world at a plump 13 pounds and 3 ounces. - Which was a record weight for the hospital and they, Berty and Gert, decided to call him Harold (who would eventually become Prime Minister of Britain). Of course, young Harold had grown up hating his name and had insisted on being referred to by his middle name, Eric.

Eric’s adventures began almost immediately when, at just 18 months of age Gert sat him on the kitchen draining board whilst she did the ironing. His inquisitive nature led to his attempting to climb down the drain, his podgy fingers getting firmly trapped in the process. (It took 3 firemen and a tub of vaseline to free the young chap).

@ghost-of-a-duke said
Once upon a time, lived a very, very old man called Eric, who had lived a most adventurous lifetime. Indeed, his very birth into the world had been one of extraordinary circumstance and it was very near-miraculous that he existed at all. His father was wounded, in a most horrendous accident, involving a German bayonet, during WW1. Coincidentally, at precisely the same ...[text shortened]... ing firmly trapped in the process. (It took 3 firemen and a tub of vaseline to free the young chap).

Once upon a time, lived a very, very old man called Eric, who had lived a most adventurous lifetime. Indeed, his very birth into the world had been one of extraordinary circumstance and it was very near-miraculous that he existed at all. His father was wounded, in a most horrendous accident, involving a German bayonet, during WW1. Coincidentally, at precisely the same time, his mother was also seriously injured in a house fire, barely escaping with her life. They met at a rehabilitation hospital in England where, as luck would have it, their physiotherapist, was a mutual friend of both.
"Fate seems to have wanted you to meet," he had told them, "I wonder to what end?"
In his, now, squeaky voice, Berty said, " Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're going to get".
As it transpired, fate had decided to give them a son, born into the world at a plump 13 pounds and 3 ounces. - Which was a record weight for the hospital and they, Berty and Gert, decided to call him Harold (who would eventually become Prime Minister of Britain). Of course, young Harold had grown up hating his name and had insisted on being referred to by his middle name, Eric.

Eric’s adventures began almost immediately when, at just 18 months of age Gert sat him on the kitchen draining board whilst she did the ironing. His inquisitive nature led to his attempting to climb down the drain, his podgy fingers getting firmly trapped in the process. (It took 3 firemen and a tub of vaseline to free the young chap). This incident was never quite forgotten, simply because it would soon be followed by similar happenings.