Five Sentence Fiction: Memories and Stormclouds

 

This one took me a while, which is weird considering how much “Abandon” stuff seems to really resonate in my work. I love working with history, relics, and the past of a lot of things I write. I can soundly blame my history minor and general fascination with history for that one. Well, I didn’t have time to create a whole world in these super-duper flash fiction parameters, so this is what you get: a window into my own personal history!

I have always wanted to do this, actually- go to my grandparent’s old farmhouse and cut my way inside and see what’s left of it. Incidentally, the rocking chair in my room smells just like the house. It’s never lost that smell after all these years.

This is getting too dangerously close to real-talk. Quick, just get on with it already!

 

Enjoy~

 


Word of Inspiration: Abandon

Word Count: 145

Genre: Realistic Fiction/ Historical Deviation

Title: Memories and Stormclouds

 

 

I snuck in, using a machete I borrowed from a friend to hack away the vines that were being vomited out of the glassless windows. I don’t even know if I would call this house “abandoned”; it was empty, for sure, minus a few stray memories and stormclouds of dust, but it wasn’t just dropped and left. My grandma’s cancer, my grandpa’s limbs that were decaying like iron in water, they pulled them away from the farmhouse with the kitchen that had a window to another room and a dozen cats that didn’t even live there. They were removed from hearth and home by (mis)fortune and now I’m back for the same reason. I put the machete down on the table, quietly enough to not disturb my grandparents as if they were still asleep upstairs, and started looking for something to salvage from this ruin.

 

 

 


 

 

Did you know that there are pictures on the internet of celebrities with prominent facial hair that have smaller versions of themselves Photoshopped underneath their mustaches so that the mustache becomes the tiny person’s hair?

Look it up, it’s delightful. I love when things are delightful. They’re like taste. Not food, just solid taste. Flavoured air. Delight is flavoured air.

Somebody write that door down (Editor’s Note: Revised from: door. Reason for initial wording- unknown) and put it into a book of clever idioms that can be spun to make clever titles out of.

“Welcome to the first day of the rest of your death,” springs to mind.

 

 

Good luck, you brave writer folk!

 

END TRANSMISSION.

 

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One comment on “Five Sentence Fiction: Memories and Stormclouds

  1. […] my last entry into Five Sentence Fiction, this one seemed to come right out of my real life and now has awkwardly formed a new nest of twigs […]

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