A bare bones story is more a telegram from afar than a story. It tells what happened but detail is wanting.
How much better if you reveal more circumstance?
Your people, human, animal or mythical, have five senses: mostly.
We remember the smell of a farmyard as the traveller turns in the gate of a new house.
We hear the timbre of a voice; the passion of a lover’s revelation.
Who does not know the slow, catching, feel of a light summer blouse slipping over a swim-wet body?
Frosted stars are to be seen; the taste of raw carrot newly drawn from the soil is immediate.
We speak so we might be heard.
Spring arrives, with summer on its heels, autumn stirs the leaves, the grass in the meadow, winter brings warm nights indoors, deadly cold outside.
Fill out your story for there is more to be said, surely.
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Dublin Folk Tales is published by the History Press.
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