Memories

She stared as she felt the destruction of her childhood, she watched as she the home she grew up in got demolished unable to move, unable to do anything but look and weep silently.

Sweeping her eyes around, a new wave of nostalgia passed within her. Vivid memories replacing the desolate scenes they were now. She reminisced for it was the only thing she could.

She smiled as many familiar places jumped at her carrying an undertone of melancholia within them. The fun she’d had once, all the brilliant moments she’d experienced tainted now.

Her eyes rested on two old and decrepit armchairs and despite her sadness, she smiled bitterly. She could see her grandparents sitting there regaling her with tales of old, her tiny self, hanging on their every word.

As a piece of an old tree fell on top of them, she turned away, brushing tears she hadn’t seen fall. She kept on walking, not daring herself to look back, not able to witness anything more.

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Word count: 168

Written for Sunday Photo Fiction, hosted by the lovely Susan. Been a while since I’ve last written anything so I hope I’ve done alright.

Splash

Em was bored. Her parents were off doing boring adult stuff and she was stuck watching her brother. She glared at the little kid, who in turn bared his teeth. Remembering the countless bites she’d experienced, she looked away.

There were other children nearby, in a similar predicament as theirs. But one look was enough to turn Em away from them. She wasn’t nearly as girlish to join the other girls, who seemed busy checking for lice or attempting elegant hairdos, nor was she interested in the snot-nosed brats.

One glance away was all it took. A sudden splash was heard and to her panic, her brother had decided that swimming in the fountain was a good idea.

She rushed forward, grabbing her brother by his arms tightly and instructing the other kids to call the parents. She grabbed and did not let go. She held, panicked until their parents arrived.

Many teary apologies and panics later, they got him out. And all that remained about this incident was an embarrassing story to tell.

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Word Count: 174

Written as a response to Flash fiction for aspiring writers prompt 169, hosted by Priceless Joy, photo copyright wildverbs. To read other stories inspired by this prompt click here.

Flamingo

Stephanie glared at the plastic flamingos outside the mall in disdain. They looked so awkward. She glanced at her watch again, sighing deeply. He should have arrived already. The gall of him, making her come here and arriving late himself. The flamingoes obviously got the brunt of her anger.

She smiled as the music began. Her favorite song, no their favorite song was playing. The memories started to flood her mind. Looking around, she smiled even more fondly. This place had held so many moments for her.

So entranced was she at the song and the past along with that she did not even notice him walking towards her. When she did, she took a double take. He was wearing a suit and looking ruggedly handsome at that too.

He slowly walked towards her, with that coy smile adorning his face. When sufficiently close, he dropped down to his knees, and to her utter amazement and shock proffered a ring towards her.

“Steph I…”

“Yes, Yes. A thousand times yes.” She shouted, not letting him get any words out. ‘

One full hour and many professions of love later, they exited the mall. Suddenly the flamingos did not look half bad.

Word Count: 200

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Written as a response to Sunday Photo Fiction, hosted by Susan. To read other answers to this prompt click here.

 

The broken remains #writephoto

Em moved her eyes around the bare room, her face impassive, her hands clenched tightly. Barest flicker of anger flashed on her face as she spotted the exotic feather on the floor. She picked up the offending item from the floor, fury radiating from her stone cold face.

Everything was so different now, she remarked to herself. Everything was gone and in its place lay the vast emptiness that surrounded her day and night. Reminiscing about the past brought a whole fresh wave upon her. Outwardly, her face remained so still, a mask of indifference, but inside was a whole different story. Raging walls of anger along with a steady stream of thoughts, both violent and loathing.

The echoes of footsteps around her startled her, snapping her out of the rage-filled reverie. In this vast emptiness, it was hard to determine the location and direction of the sound but she’d guessed right. As she gazed into the form of her lifelong friend, the last remnants of the anger left her but the desperation and hurt still remained.

Seeing the all too familiar shudder pass through her friend’s body, Row hastened forward, enveloping Em into an embrace. She held her as her body shook with fury and hurt. She held on tight as the tears started falling along with a cascade of insults. She held on tight as Em sank to the ground, taking her alongside, not letting her go even for a second, holding her tight. She held on, for herself and for Em.

The two women sat like that in the empty house for a long time. Without words, without any exchange, they consoled each other. Being there for the other when they needed the most, combating the emptiness inside and outside with slow warmth and lasting love. And when they got up, their minds were clear, and their hearts even more so. There was only one thing on their minds, there was only one thing left to do, revenge.

The small blue feather, now downtrodden and messy, floated slowly and wistfully as the footsteps echoed in the empty house once again, dimming with each passing second, slowly ceasing into nothingness.

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Yet another action-packed, filled with emotions and little to no dialogue, narrative-esque short. Feels like I’m doing a lot of those recently…

Written as a response to Thursday Photo Prompt- Remains #writephoto, hosted by the lovely Sue.

 

Phoenix

Em stared at the ruins of her childhood home, her eyes red and puffy. Streaks marked her face where tears had been. She looked a mess as she stood in the ruins alone, surveying it, missing it. She surveyed, her mind supplying her with memories to compare and contrast.

She walked around, kicking rocks in frustration. Everything was utterly destroyed. The kitchen where she used to watch her mom bake, the living room that was the location of many arguments, the stairs where she and her brother would fool around, everything was gone.

Wiping a tear from her face, she allowed herself to dwell on the past for a few more moments. She reminisced with a soft smile on her face, thinking of all the good times this old house had seen.

Sitting down on her usual rock, she looked at the house again. Her mind was slipping into the past but she stopped herself. Now was not the time to lose herself in what was, now was the time for action. With a steeled look on her face, she stared onwards, vowing to make things better, to give her kids the home she once had.

Word Count: 196
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Written as a response to Sunday Photo Fiction, hosted by the lovely Susan and photo courtesy of C.E. Ayr. To read other stories of this photo prompt, click here.

Nostalgia

He stared at the old rundown shack, memories from his childhood springing into his mind. He walked slowly, fingering each surface that’d marked his childhood. He’d learned here, so long ago and with so many others. To him, it was less a classroom and more a second home.

He slowly entered the small room, his eyes transforming the dusty room into a vibrant one filled with the smiles and laughs of his friends. A small version of himself was there enjoying and learning at the same time, laughing with everyone, learning things he’d never forget.

He looked around once more, every nook and corner reminding me of the good times, of the people he loved. Every space bringing another good memory within him. He turned back and got out, ducking his head.

He watched the house get demolished with a tear in his eye. The plans for the new building was ready and he knew it’d be much more efficient for the new generations. He walked away mourning the loss of his second home.

Word Count: 174

Written as a response to FFFAW challenge this week. Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting it. For more stories with this prompt click here.

Bonfire

 

“Dad. Dad. Is it done yet?” Em asked, tugging at his sleeve, her eyes shining with the red glow. Dad took a stick and poked around the base of the fire for a bit before turning to his daughter. “Patience. Em.”

At that, the little boy beside Em stuck his tongue out, starting a war of silly proportions. For once, their mother did not berate them and just laughed.

“It’s done.” The father announced, producing a fire-baked potato mounted atop a knitting needle. Before Em could react, her little brother had reached over and grabbed the delicacy in his tiny little hands.

“Hothothothothot.” He jumped, dropping the potato. Em giggled at his discomfort and picked the potato gently, wrapping it around a newspaper.

“That’s mine.” He said, glaring.

“Of course it is. I’m just peeling it for you dummy.” She ruffled his hair causing him to sulk even more.

They sat there a bit longer, eating and laughing alongside each other. They left a few hours later, the warmth of the fire still with them.

Word Count: 175


Written as a response to Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. Photo copyright Enisa.