My daughter has a set of dice called Story Cubes, which she uses to tell us fanciful stories before bed. It didn’t take long for me to see the benefit of using these dice to practice my own storytelling skills. And since this is my blog and I do what I want, I decided to share these little stories with you.
My roll: House, Teepee, Phone, Beetle, Sheep, Flashlight, Magic wand, Direction/wheel (compass), Tree
“Oh, for the love of—” Sheep swore, ending the call with a decidedly unsatisfying stab of her hoof at the red image on the phone. She had been in a snit all morning, and being unable to reach Beetle since dawn had not helped matters. Only the thought of kicking his shiny carapace into next week seemed to soothe her temper.
She stomped around the house, making a point of ignoring how the gingham curtains and cozy, overstuffed chairs that decorated her cottage normally put her in a better mood. Sheep was so intent on being annoyed by Beetle’s insufferably lackadaisical attitude about her very real concerns, that it slipped her mind to check in again with Gus at Flying Squirrel Cargo.
Honestly, that insect couldn’t find his thorax with a compass and a flashlight, she silently groused, slamming the phone down on the faux granite counter. They needed to meet Buffalo at his Teepee by noon, and traffic is always a mess, and all of this was just too much stress for her. She didn’t need Beetle and his ‘just relax, Sheepie, we got this’ hippie talk grating on her very last nerve all the way past the Heart Tree and back. Not today. Today was too important and she was not about to let one annoying insect get in the way of her god given happiness.
“Yo, Sheepie!” came a bright call from her porch. “We should probably get a move on if you want to hang with Buffalo today. That dude has no chill, right? I keep tellin’ him his chakras are whack, but does he listen? No, he does not. He just—”
“Let’s go,” Sheep interrupted him as she swept through the cheery red front door and turned smartly to lock it behind her.
“Hey, Sheepie, I was think—” Beetle began, his antennae spread wide in friendliness.
“I said let’s go.” Sheep cut him off again, channeling her anger into the biting tone of her words. “I swear, Beetle, if you make me late again…”
“Nah, nah, Sheepie. We’ve got all the time in the world, right? The Universe will provide,” he rubbed his front legs together apologetically, and follow the clearly annoyed Sheep to his Volkswagon. “Besides, it’s not like the old guy is going to fail you if you’re just a little late, right?”
This was exactly the wrong thing to say to Sheep. She whirled around and glared at Beetle, hooves on her hips. In a low voice, she spat, “Get. In. The. Car. Right now, before I do something I’m going to enjoy thoroughly before they lock me away in the Big Barn.”
Cowed, Beetle did as she demanded, silently starting up the little car and pulling out of the driveway. Once headed in the right direction, however, it didn’t take long for his usual cheerful attitude to creep back. “So, Sheepie, I was just talking to Gus, and—”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she muttered under her breath. “I completely forgot to check in with Gus.” To Beetle, she replied, “Just drive. I don’t have it in me to chit-chat on the way to my exam. I swear, if I don’t pass today, I’m holding you personally responsible. You know how hard I have been working to even get the chance to test with Buffalo. I really can’t even think about anything else right now.” Even as the words left her mouth, she knew it wasn’t true. She had been obsessing about the delivery ever since she was notified that it had shipped two days ago, and her studies had suffered accordingly. She wasn’t confident in her magic, and she was terrified that Buffalo would see right through her illusions. And she blamed Beetle, just like she always did.
Beetle shrugged and decided not to finish his thought. The Universe will provide, he mused to himself, carefully driving just under the posted speed limit. It always does. Even when you forget to pay shipping on your new magic wand.