The Finish Line

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Woodbine Beach, Toronto.

One of my least favorite things in this World are cliches. Ugh. I get especially irritated when I talk to people in business and they have all these “coined” phrases that they didn’t really coin and they find creative ways to use them in regular conversation.

I’ve been plagued by one since the weekend. I was walking along the beach close to the place where I live and because the weather just turned bearable, everyone was out there wearing shorts.

Really tho?

My friends were too cold to keep walking, but something about being outside always inspires me so I stayed a bit longer shuffling my feet in the sand. On my way back to the car I saw a twig in the shape of a perfect pitch fork that intrigued me and because I love stories that soar wildly into fantastic realms, one of them took seed in my head and spread it’s wings.

Is it possible that I found the long lost play pitchfork (kinda like a toy car) for an ancient race of water folk that live in Lake Ontario? Was it missed? Is it just a toy or does it possess real power? Did they get punished for losing it? Where is that water person now? How could their lives have changed as a result of losing their pitchfork? What would they call it? A staff? A pokey thingy?

Anyway, after hours of fun contemplation I had to return to my friends so we could get home for dinner, but I decided to start developing the story around that pitchfork and it took a wild turn. I’m still working on it, it is supposed to be a short story for an anthology, but it is hard getting to the finish line (and there is the Business World phrase I was avoiding). I keep thinking of cool things that could happen.

Got any ideas?

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