** Here at DPW, we understand that writing slumps happen. Sometimes, when we’re in between projects, or when life interrupts a particularly productive streak, a writer can find themselves unable to push forward. Often, these lapses in writing are temporary, but can feel like an eternity. So, to help those of you experiencing this, we’ve concocted a story to grease the gears and get you back to writing!

**Below is an unfinished excerpt of a short story. Unlike other “finish the story” exercises though, this one doesn’t begin at the beginning. Rather, the “story” starts somewhere around the middle, with the beginning left vague and the ending undefined. Your mission is to not only write the ending to this story, but to also craft the beginning. It can be whatever genre, whatever length, and involve as many characters as you’d like. Just do your thing and write the story. 

**And when you’re done, send em our way! We’d love to read your efforts!

~Slainte!


Finish The Story:


…and shutting the door—soft and secure—he stepped out onto the snow covered balcony.

The treetops were eye level; their fifty foot statures even with the less-than-average-height man standing barefoot, bare chested on the old wooden balcony. A breeze moved the bare twigs, and they clattered insect-like for a moment, before waning back into their wintery stillness.

The man on the balcony watched his breath leak from between his pale lips, and he shivered.

But still he stood.

The railing was more than an arm’s length away, and he told himself that it would stay that far.

“I won’t get closer than this,” he told himself. “I won’t step any closer, won’t get any further from the door.”

But his feet itched, but his mind hurt, but the tears that crested his sunken eyes were beginning to gel, to freeze and burn. Lonely and cold and as weak as all who are left alone, the man on the balcony took a step closer to the railing and reached his hand out.

His fingers barely tickled the snow capped cast iron.

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