Thanks to Madison Woods for another intriguing photo. You can see her site and the other Fictioneers’ responses here: http://madisonwoods.wordpress.com/flash-fiction/cellar-walls-100-words/
I wanted to do something with that strange shape above the entrance, but I got carried away with the story I was writing and never had space to fit it in. It looks like a baseball mitt? Or a musical instrument? Or a bit of tree? I’m sure my MC would have plenty to say about it, but I only gave him 100 words and he never got there. Here’s what he did say. (Please feel very welcome to leave comments and criticism, I’d love to hear from you, good or bad.)
Going Back
Crawling into the old cellar is like travelling back in time. I remember blistering summers, baking beneath the tin roof and icy winters, the wind stabbing us through the walls. Everything’s magnified by memory, including the space itself. Four boys could comfortably sit playing cards and drinking beer snatched from our fathers’ cupboards, and planning our escape from our parents’ world.
Now, the cellar is only a few feet from the back door of the house. Now, my mother could have seen us from the kitchen window. Now, it’s barely big enough to hold four boys, let alone their dreams.
elmowrites 
Wonderful story! Thank you for sharing it!
Here’s mine:
http://sarahthestoryteller.wordpress.com
Thanks for reading and commenting, Sarah! You were quick off the mark indeed!
I liked this, reminding me, as it does, of how everything seems so much smaller when you go back. Or how much bigger one’s perception is when younger … Lovely, thanks for the read.
Thank you, Sandra, that’s definitely what I was trying to convey. It’s a wistful piece, but I enjoyed writing it.
The passage of time and how it changes everything! Very nice!
Here is mine:
Memory’s a funny thing, isn’t it? I once went back to the “wood” were played in as children – turned out to be only a few trees. The disappointment was terrible, but also as an adult we can look back and admire our childhoold selves, I think.
I think we were just so imaginative as children. We can tap on that again now that we are writers!
the favorite places of our childhood seem so much smaller when we revisit–nicely done and not overly sentimental–just right! I really enjoyed reading this! 🙂
Here is mine: it is a prose poem rather than a story:
http://thewriternubbin.wordpress.com/2012/03/08/photo-prompt-for-100-word-flash-fridayfictioneers-moving-on/
Thanks for stoppign by, Jeannie, I’m glad you didn’t think I veered too far over the line of sentimentality. I think memories are important.
As others say, going back to childhood haunts/hidey-holes, they always seem so small now. Back then, whether via imagination or simply because we were smaller, everything seemed much grander in every sense! Very nice piece.
Thanks Niiko, I’m glad you shared the MC’s view on the past. It’s nice to look back, even if sometimes we are surprised by what we find. did we see more as children, or have the memories been distorted by time … or a bit of both?
Dear Jen,
What a beautiful story. You showed us the cellar from within and the dreams that it sheltered and from without through the eyes of a watchful mother. Wistful remembrances, lovingly rendered.
Aloha,
Doug
Thanks Doug. I kinda pictured the MC as a father himself now, going back and realising that Mom wasn’t careless, but she let him and his friends feel like they were being terribly independent. A perfect balance for a parent to strike, perhaps.
A sweet tale of innocence past (well, except for maybe the beer!).
Here’s mine: http://postcardfiction.com/2012/03/09/waiting/
Thanks, Janet. I like to think there is even an innocence about the beer. If you’ve watched Stand By Me (or read the Stephen King story it’s based on), I think that beautifully depicts the innocence of childhood, even though some of the things that happen are less than “innocent” to the adult brain.
Hi Elmo: I LOVE it. And that about says it all. I kind of touch on a similar tone with the boys. Here is mine: http://www.triplemoonstar.blogspot.com
wow, thanks Lora. I’ll head your way now!
Ah, I have memories of the old cellar too. It’s amazing how the space shrinks with time, sort of like how my clothes shrink from hanging in the closet for two or three months – HA!
http://russellgayer.blogspot.com/
Oh dear, Russell, those closets are so pesky! I stole the feeling of this story from The Body (the Stephen King short story that spawned Stand By Me) but I’m glad it resonates with so many other people too.
You instill what it means to transition from childhood to adulthood in a concise vibrant manner, the shrinking of our world, the loss of wonder.
Here’s mine: http://teschoenborn.com/2012/03/09/friday-fictioneers/
Thanks for stopping by and commenting, tesch!
It’s funny how things change when we grow up – how much smaller places and things seem and how they lose their magic when we are no longer children. That’s sad in a way – to lose that quality. *sigh*
~Susan (Here’s mine: http://www.susanwenzel.com/)
Aww, sigh, yes, but there are benefits too – at least we’re the ones with beer in the cupboard now!!!
Yep! I took my girls back to my old elementary school and was shocked to see someone stole the big building and huge hill! (
~Susan
I love the ending and how it’s so true – the things we found as children look so different as adults. Fun story, Elmo.
Here’s mine – a little different:
http://siobhanmuir.blogspot.com/2012/03/at-gates-100words-for-fridayfictioneers.html
Siobhan
Glad you liked it, Siobhan. Thanks for your comment.
The nostalgia hits me here. It’s very powerful and the scene is developed so that we can see it right away — the boys tucked away. Nice work 🙂
I think nostalgia is a powerful emotion for all of us, Lime. I wonder why humans are built that way?
What a wonderful reflection. Thank you
Here’s mine: http://remakingme-atiyatownes.blogspot.com/2012/03/flash-fiction-is-out-and-its-chilling.html
Cheers, Atiya
This is a well-told example of how the memories of our youth don’t always quite match up to the reality of life. Bravo!
Indeed they don’t, thanks Jeffrey.
Some nice ideas about space and time and perspective; a good use of the prompt, I think! Only thing that jars slightly for me is the word ‘snatched’. I’m not sure why because technically it’s perfectly accurate but for some reason it doesn’t sit right. Connotations of snatching from a hand, perhaps, which wouldn’t quite work with beer – or maybe it’s that beer seems hard to snatch? Actually it might be that the otherwise fairly elegiac tone is disrupted by the harshness of the sound… Anyway, that’s my only criticism!
I’m glad you enjoyed it, bookworm. I envisaged the boys dashing into the house, grabbing the bottles and dashing out again, hence snatched … I also considered pinched but I’m not sure that would improve your concern. Hmmm… I will have to think about it! Thanks for the concrit!
How about…
seized, liberated, poached, pillaged, abducted, purloined, rustled…
I like liberated myself; has that association with thinking old people need saving from themselves and life is for the young… 😉
Ah, the jolting surprise of revisiting a childhood hangout and seeing it from a new, slightly claustrophobic perspective. Spaces once so wide, structures once so imposing. I’ll never forget visiting my grandparents house many years after they passed away and being stunned by how small it seemed. Peering over the wall I once chickened out of jumping from. Having to duck down to enter the garden shed that, from the outside, still looked incongruously spacious. Like a reverse Tardis, with my pap’s scooter in place of a Dalek.
Here’s my entry. I apologise in advance.
http://jaykayel.wordpress.com/2012/03/09/turn-on-log-in-and-freak-out-100-word-flash-fiction/
Growing up and letting go of dreams. Almost makes me sad. Very nice. 🙂
Ahhhhhh–you stirred some wonderful memories with your piece. You really relate well to how children think–endearing scene. I loved it!
Mine: http://www.vlgregory-circa1800.vpweb.com/blog.html.
Love it! It matches some thoughts I had about it.
Mine is here: http://erinleary.wordpress.com/2012/03/09/flash-friday-fictioneers/#entry
Interesting how perspectives change with time. Great use of the prompt.
You can’t go home again, and apparently you can’t go back to the cellar either. I identified with this, because my grandparents had a cellar I remember well. We went there when it stormed and it’s where grandpa hid his bottle of wine. Great nostalgic feel in this piece. The thing that looks like a mitt is a dirt dauber’s nest.
Here’s mine: http://bridgesareforburning.wordpress.com/
A nostalgic take on the cellar. Agree that the weird shape above the gap needs investigating, and i couldn’t figure out what to do with that, either, but I think it’s a dried out hive. I liked what you did with this, though, with musings on the way places we remember grow much smaller as we grow up.
Mine is over here (thanks for oyur comment btw!) http://joannakneilson.wordpress.com/2012/03/09/flash-fiction-friday-cellar-wall/
What a nice piece. You carried me back to my youth with my cousins. I loved ‘crawling into the old cellar is like travelling back in time’ for I have had that experience and you just sent me back…
Very nice story – one of the few, possibly the only one this week, that is not about horror, insect invasions and the death of mankind. And that’s just my story! I had a cellar like that, that had black widows in it, but it was the only cool place to play in the searing hot summers of Redding, CA. I coud copy your description into my mythical autobiography.
Excellent description of child versus adult perspective. Memories are grand though! Nice story.
Ain’t that the truth?
This held a strong sense of melancholy for me, along with maybe a longing for happier times long gone. Very well done on a touching story. Apologies for the late read/comment 🙂