For the Love of Writing

I have always enjoyed writing, but I don't feel that I make enough time to do it, so I decided to make time right here on my blog every Friday to write.  Like a lot of you, I'm trying my hand at a novel (though not as part of NaNoWriMo), but this has nothing to do with that.  This is all about fun and mystery.  What I've chosen to do is write a list of 100 random words, and each week I will have random.org chose a number.  Whatever word wins is what i must write about that day.  This way I can't go into any day with preconceived notions about what I'm going to write about.  I'll just have to let the ideas flow.

Today's Word is: Wood.

I grew up in a small village that was barely large enough to disrupt the normal activities of the forest.  Our village was so small that we didn't have the luxury of having chores that were gender specific.  Everyone was required to do everything and this meant that I often  had to accompany my older brother as he collected wood for the fire.   I understood how important that wood was for our survival, and we were always so careful to choose just the right pieces, so that there would be wood for us to collect for years to come. 

Back then, the wood we collected was used for the survival of our people.  We used it to keep our cooking fires going and to heat our homes in the winter.  During the summer and fall festivals we would build a fire at the center of celebration.  I was so proud that I helped bring the wood for fires.

Things changed as I grew older.  New purposes arose for the wood, and I began to feel shame that I still helped to bring it the village.  In retrospect, I should have realized things had already gone to far for me to fight them, but I was naive, and I thought I could stop them by refusing to bring the wood anymore. And that is how I came to be here, tied tightly to a piece of wood that I myself brought to the village only days before, watching in horror as the villagers lit the kindling at my feet on fire.