Friday, January 22, 2010



This is my contribution to this weeks (Fiction)Friday.

It was a sentimental journey. A journey back in time. She searched for the street. Was it here? No, perhaps it was around that corner over there. Yes, back home at last, back to street in which she grew up. Back to the street filled with memories, happy memories because she was happy then.

But it wasn’t the street she remembered. Those apartments weren’t there back then, Auntie Julie was. Her house was right there by that chestnut tree. And over there, what happened to Jamey’s house? It didn’t look like the one that stood there now. Jamey’s house was a friendly house which smiled. This was cube which frowned. What happened to Jamey?

She had played in this street. Marbles, hopscotch, chase, ‘you’re it’! She remembered the time they’d played ball and she’d kicked it through Mrs Mason’s window. The sound of that breaking glass rang in her ears as the memories flooded back. But Mrs. Mason’s house was no longer there. They’d run away and hid behind the massive oak tree on the corner, that corner over there. What happened to the oak tree, why was it gone?

As she turned the bend in the road a row of houses came into view. Her heart leapt. It was the row of houses where she’d lived. Her little house was still there, right in the middle. She walked a little faster, and then began to run. Her mind filled with images and her ears filled sounds. Sounds of laughter for she as happy there. Oh how she longed to feel Tibbles the fat black cat brush against her legs. She so wanted to hear the chiming bells of the ice cream van as it sat across the street.

But why were there boards over the windows? Why wasn’t grumpy Mrs Brown next door peeping out from behind her net curtains? Why couldn’t she see the bright yellow door on the house she grew up in? Why did it say ‘Keep out, condemned’ where her door used to be?

Condemned. She’d returned to her street to relive her memories. It had been the only place she’d ever been happy. Since she left, her life was condemned.Tragedy, sadness and despair waited around every corner. Now it was if her happy memories were condemned too.


  1. I like the nostalgic tone you have created in your piece. It makes me think of my own area where I grew up and the change from houses to apartment blocks, and it makes me wonder how people will grow and develop community within these complexes, compared to the community we had growing up.

  2. This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

  3. Nothing stays the same - and its the curse and blessing of becoming older.

    Your lilted along at a natural and welcoming pace, allowing the reader to feel alongside the main character.

    Another great entry Keith -
    Visitors can see my entry at

  4. at one time or another we all get the urge to return to our 'roots'. to feel what was, to see what now is...

  5. It's funny how we often times look to the past to find our happiness. Only sometimes coming back to reality is harsh.

    Enjoyed this Keith.

  6. I really liked the questions, the inner monologue, you used to convey the increasing confusion and anxiety of your character. Nicely done, Keith.

  7. Nicely written I just revisited my memories about my street and wrote about it lol Luckily my live isn't condemmed since I left

  8. Hello Keith, wow, I absolutely get the sense that the woman in this piece feels lost and filled with sadness- the way she struggles to find her house and her street echo's the way she struggles to relive happy times because of the times now. I'm left wondering what could have happened to make her feel so unhappy? Thank you for posting :)



Dear WORDPRESS friends. If you are having difficulty posting please 'Comment as' either:-

a) Name/URL
b) Anonymous with your name included in your comment.

Thank you!