Pops and cracks fill the cave air. Fumba and Tumba take sartled steps back. Suprised, dumbofounded by their newest invention.
'This is what?', Tumba directs his question towards Fumba.
'Me's has no ideas', replies Fumba.
Tumba takes a cautious step forward. Reachng his hand out like a gang plank on a 1600's naval ship.
'I feels, a funny feeling in my fingers', pronounces Tumba.
'I feel warmths. I unsure why this happen'.
Tumba places his hands ever closer to the fire. His out stretched hand drawing closer, and closer with each step. Tumba touches the tip of the flame has the dance of red and orange kisses his finger tip.
'OUCHES!', screams Tumba.
'The thing bit me!'
Tumba and Fumba start throwing rocks at the fire. Each blow the fire absorbs the rock, taunting the two cavemen.
'I is tired. We must stops', says Fumba.
'What shall we do with this demon?'
'I thinks, we should look at this in a different manner'.
The elqouent reply from Tumba catches Fumba off guard.
'What you's mean?'
Well. It seems this thing is giving off heat. It is cold outside. If we stay a safe distance from it. I'm sure the demon won't hurt us. It doesn't seem to have a lot of range with its attack. I mean it only attached me once I touched it directly'.
Fumba looks a little perplexed. The words coming from Tumba's mouth are so complex in nature, he has listened to his friend for years and never has he heard such prose.
'Ok, ok. I keep watch for a bit, in case just attack.....What shall we call this demon', Fumba asks.
Every now and again I write for 5 minutes continuously and do not stop until the timer runs out. What you read is a stream of words coming out all at once. No editing, no worrying. I find this creates amazing stories as you just have to let the words take you, rather than force them out. Enjoy.
