My first short story…

I responded to a prompt over at vocal media and penned my first short story. As with most of what I write you might pick up on some biblical influences. I tried to image what might happen if an estranged son returned to his home town to claim the inheritance left by his recently deceased father. What happens when everything is simultaneously strange and yet familiar? Is it possible for regret to be redeemed by recovered memories? This son finds his way home in an unfamiliar house. I’d love for you to read it and share with me your thoughts.

Here is a portion of the story My Father’s House: A long journey of just a few steps:

“I accessed the attic via the scuttle hole by pulling the string and unfolding the ladder. I climbed up into the attic that was filled miscellaneous boxes, broken furniture, and scattered remnants of my childhood. That’s when the collection of newspapers caught my eye. One of the few happy memories my father and I shared was a Sunday tradition that involved those newspapers. He would hide behind the news of the week, and dutifully fill out his crossword puzzle, but the Sunday funnies were always mine to read. On occasion, time was well wasted pressing silly putty onto the contoured lines and comical expressions of Garfield, Snoopy, or Beetle Bailey, and then peeling it off to reveal a perfect imprint. That memory lived now under that stack of perfectly preserved newspapers, it was also where the black moleskine caught my attention.”

Read the rest of the story.

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