Desnath's Challenge
Write a story, starting with this:
" I was sitting in my favourite chair, watching my favourite television program, when ......."
Asbestos Tile
I was sitting in my favourite chair, watching my favourite television program, when I heard a loud thump from my ceiling. My daughter's room was above me so I went upstairs to investigate.
I should have known that something was different because the stairs felt soft under my feet. The stairs in my house are hardwood oak. I went through the hallway to check on her but found the room was empty. It wasn't that my daughter was in the bathroom. Nothing was there; the room was completely empty. And the sun was out
The floor was that ugly green and green asbestos tile, the walls were still real knotty pine panels and there were no curtains or blinds on the wall. I walked to the window and looked outside. The tree from my childhood was in the front lawn, for my daughter's room is my old childhood room.
When I turned back, the room was furnished with the things of my past. My old table. My old typewriter and stand, with paper. My dresser that my daughter uses now. Posters of Donny Osmond, Randolf Mantooth and Sean Cassidy and a big poster W.C. Fields were on my walls and door.
I walked to the typewriter to see what I had written. Things long forgotten and tossed away. A story. I pulled out the old wooden chair. It made a hollow, familiar noise on the golden rug; that rug had followed my parents from their first apartment in the city, near Michael Reese Hospital where my mother was a nurse.
I ran my fingers across the cold keys and thought of all the things that I had dreamed. I turned back and the walls were bare, but the room was filled with stuff. When I turned back the typewriter was gone and I could barely stand for all the clutter.
When I married my husband, we stored a lot of things in this room. I remember how stressed I was because this room needed to be cleared out for our son. I laughed when I thought how I had to really put my foot down about this. I looked down at the rug and it was a pale shade of blue.
When I looked back up, the nursery was set up. I smiled and walked to the white crib that held my first and second child. I turned towards the window and saw a twin bed in the corner with a guard rail. My little son gave up his crib to his baby sister.
I walked over to the bed and sat down at the foot. I thought of all the memories and the little board books that we read over and over, and then again to his sister. And again to his brother.
I turned again and saw three beds in this small room. We had the floors redone and they had to share a room for a month or so and my daughter got to keep a room all to herself. She was so afraid that first night, but she got used to her own things very quickly.
I stood up and walked to the door, having to move over to avoid bumping into the bedframes. When I turned back, the room was darkened and my daughter was sound asleep in her bed. But one of her books was on the floor. The bump I had heard downstairs.
I picked it up and placed it on her bedstand. I smoothed her curly hair, kissed her cheek and went back downstairs.
Copyright 2009 All Rights Reserved
To read other creative entries, please click here.
Write a story, starting with this:
" I was sitting in my favourite chair, watching my favourite television program, when ......."
Asbestos Tile
I was sitting in my favourite chair, watching my favourite television program, when I heard a loud thump from my ceiling. My daughter's room was above me so I went upstairs to investigate.
I should have known that something was different because the stairs felt soft under my feet. The stairs in my house are hardwood oak. I went through the hallway to check on her but found the room was empty. It wasn't that my daughter was in the bathroom. Nothing was there; the room was completely empty. And the sun was out
The floor was that ugly green and green asbestos tile, the walls were still real knotty pine panels and there were no curtains or blinds on the wall. I walked to the window and looked outside. The tree from my childhood was in the front lawn, for my daughter's room is my old childhood room.
When I turned back, the room was furnished with the things of my past. My old table. My old typewriter and stand, with paper. My dresser that my daughter uses now. Posters of Donny Osmond, Randolf Mantooth and Sean Cassidy and a big poster W.C. Fields were on my walls and door.
I walked to the typewriter to see what I had written. Things long forgotten and tossed away. A story. I pulled out the old wooden chair. It made a hollow, familiar noise on the golden rug; that rug had followed my parents from their first apartment in the city, near Michael Reese Hospital where my mother was a nurse.
I ran my fingers across the cold keys and thought of all the things that I had dreamed. I turned back and the walls were bare, but the room was filled with stuff. When I turned back the typewriter was gone and I could barely stand for all the clutter.
When I married my husband, we stored a lot of things in this room. I remember how stressed I was because this room needed to be cleared out for our son. I laughed when I thought how I had to really put my foot down about this. I looked down at the rug and it was a pale shade of blue.
When I looked back up, the nursery was set up. I smiled and walked to the white crib that held my first and second child. I turned towards the window and saw a twin bed in the corner with a guard rail. My little son gave up his crib to his baby sister.
I walked over to the bed and sat down at the foot. I thought of all the memories and the little board books that we read over and over, and then again to his sister. And again to his brother.
I turned again and saw three beds in this small room. We had the floors redone and they had to share a room for a month or so and my daughter got to keep a room all to herself. She was so afraid that first night, but she got used to her own things very quickly.
I stood up and walked to the door, having to move over to avoid bumping into the bedframes. When I turned back, the room was darkened and my daughter was sound asleep in her bed. But one of her books was on the floor. The bump I had heard downstairs.
I picked it up and placed it on her bedstand. I smoothed her curly hair, kissed her cheek and went back downstairs.
Copyright 2009 All Rights Reserved
To read other creative entries, please click here.
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