Wednesday, December 18, 2013

Remembering...A Short Story

Weir area 1

Christmas presents under the tree

I've missed a few weeks in the weekly writing prompt. I feel bad about that, but it's a crazy time of the year. Something caught my attention with these two pictures and I wanted to participate. If you'd like to write a little story, here are the rules:

1) Write a story using both photos.
2) Keep your word count to 500 words or less.
3) Submit your completed story to your blog hostess (Nicole, Carrie, Tena or Leanne) via the inLinkz linky on their sites. (If you need a bit of help with this step, just leave a comment on their sites and they’ll get you linked up!)
4) You have the next week to post.
5) Have fun, don’t stress, let those creative juices flow!

Hope you like it!


The boy, now man closes his eyes and recalls a time when snow fell on the streets of his memories. The carpet of white engulfs his world with promises of unimaginable joy. He sees his form running outside with his friends, coats and sweaters smother, condensation rises past his red cheeks as he struggles to keep up with boys of similar age as the gang of youth moves as one into the winter night.

The snow acts as a prelude to an even greater event, a night amongst nights, a 24-hour period of time unequaled in both importance and awesomeness. It's the one night every child looks forward to, dreams of and can't wait to arrive. The night when a child can wish for almost anything, a night of miracles.

At school children discuss the man who will visit their very house only days away. They compare stories of years past when they heard hooves on top of their homes, witness irrefutable evidence that someone entered their house, deposited packages wrapped in colorful paper, and consumed a plateful of cookies and a glassful of milk. Yes, he was there--physical proof confirms it!

The man opens his eyes, the road before him silent and encased in a cocoon of snow. He stands taller than he did as a child, his perspective higher, clearer. He imagines his lifelong friends no longer here, they having moved years ago. The buildings--some known, some new--tell him he is welcome, but at the same time, a stranger. His heart yearns to return to what once was. He is alone with his memories.

Word Count: 270


  1. So beautiful, Scott. You captured the childhood memory so perfectly. And that swell of nostalgia at the end is so intense... emotional.

    Nice job. We've missed you! So glad you could write for this one. :)

  2. The last paragraph is my favorite - really opening up the man for us. As Leanne said, a fantastic show of nostalgia.