Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

Summer memories

When I was young, we used to go to summer camp. Not on top of a holiday abroad, but instead of it. There were sports camps, creativity camps, church camps, there were summer camps for nearly everything. When lucky, you were going to a summer camp with a library attached. There were no camps for bookworms as far as I know. Book reading must have been regarded as something that needed no further encouragement. Summer camps were like beehives, always humming with activity and there was little time to retreat to someplace quiet with a book. I invariably wasn't good at the games that made up most part of the summer camp's program. But there was one moment of the day I quite liked. After lunch we had to retreat to the dormitories for 'resting hour'. Of course we weren't the ones who needed a rest, we all knew that, it were the group leaders who needed it.
But keeping about thirty lively kids quiet for an hour was quite a challenge. There was running between the beds, shouting and jumping from one bed to another (this was favored the most), until … one of the older girls appeared with a book. Time for a story. Luckily there was this one rule, you kept quiet while the story was being told, whether you liked to listen or not.
So when they were looking for someone willing to help reading stories during the resting hour, I volunteered. It gave me an excuse to be at the library when possible instead or participating in the games. But I couldn't find a book that pleased me. Resting time drew near and I still hadn't found a suitable story. The bell that announced resting time chimed and still I hadn't found anything useful.
So there was me, thirty chattering and jumping little girls and no book. I had to find a solution and had to find it quickly, for there was banging on the walls from the adjacent dormitory. If we please could be silent. So I just started a story, making it up on the go. I can't remember what it was about, but it must have been engaging enough, for I was asked for a new installment every day. Once one of the little girls even asked me which book the story was in. I told her the book was in my head, whereon she asked if I could show them the pictures then. I guess this must have been the start of my career of storytelling which I never had.

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