Experience Writing Challenge 2024

My Dark Room

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Flash Fiction inspired by the Writober Prompt: FEAR OF DARKNESS

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I don’t go upstairs to my attic very often. I don’t keep much up there.

By not much, what I mean is, I keep a mirror at the far end of my attic, it’s resting on the floor and it’s face is turned to the wall . Sometimes when it rains water from a crack in the ceiling drips down from the roof and onto it’s back like a zipper sewn onto it’s back by a not so skilled surgeon.

My mirror used to hang at the end of the hallway near my living room.

People used to like to look into it and fix their hair or straighten their ties before we would visit, Everyone loved to use that mirror. I think it had something to do with the lighting, or maybe seeing yourself framed in golden stars and  crowned by the Sun   made you feel prettier- or maybe even a bit God like. It didn’t just feed your ego. It stuffed it to bursting.

Sitting next to my  mirror in my dark attic is a shovel.

The shovel’s step is caked with gray dirt and a fine coat of dust and it’s blade is rusty red.

I don’t know where that shovel came from. It just turned up one day, someone knocked at my door and when I opened it the shovel was leaning under my door bell. I looked up and down my street before I grabbed it and took it inside.

I tried to run upstairs with it, but my legs were shaking and I couldn’t take a deep breath. I felt liked I  drifted in slow motion  up each creaking step. When I got to the landing I tip toed into the attic. I stared at my mirror across the room from me and when I was sure it was in the same exact spot it has always been in, I walked with a little more purpose in my step to the mirror and set the shovel next to it.

My attic is cavernous, but that shovel and the mirror seem to take up every square inch of it.

Photographer Unknown

I took my mirror up to my attic, two days before Halloween- I’m not sure how many years it’s been.

It was late the night I moved it upstairs. I had spent a solid week emptying my attic of old furniture and boxes books and record albums. I moved  trunks of clothes and household items. What I couldn’t fit down into my basement I put into one of my guest rooms.

It was late, like I said when I finished cleaning out my dark room and just when I thought I could not take another step I went to my mirror and took it off of the wall without looking directly into it,

I carried it to the  attic stairs in the dark.

When I got to to my attic, I reached through the doorway and snapped the light off. I walked to the back of the attic- where it was always dark even when the light was on and I put my mirror down.

Then I looked into it.

I saw my face, I saw my shirt covered with dark maroon droplets standing out upon a mist of red.

I saw a smile on my reflection’s mouth, I could see my shovel leaning against the wall behind me.

I whirled around and of course the shovel wasn’t there. It was in a dumpster behind a restaurant  twenty miles from my house. When I turned back and looked down into my mirror for the last time, I saw my face- it was dusty and sweaty, my shirt wasn’t covered in a mist of red it was covered with cobwebs and dirt.

I turned my mirror  away from me, but I will be honest I don’t think it matters.

That face I saw in it, the secret it captured  is still  there staring at my attic wall

 

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Ganny Saner’s House

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Inspired by Experience Writing: Writober Prompt: Fear of Abandonment Sensory Prompt

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Ganny Saner’s old house isn’t real, nobody has ever lived in it, nobody has ever died in it nobody has ever called it home

When it’s cold out, the floor boards in Ganny Saner’s house creek and groan and the kitchen windows ice up and the rats in the walls curl up

up together in tight little bunches and squeak their discomfort to each other.

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Ganny Saner’s house, the house that has never cast a shadow across it’s front lawn, that

was never surrounded by an apple orchard,  that never had a garage that use to be a stable for horses

might hide a secret in the lowest kitchen drawer,  next to the sink , that would stick if you tried to open it.

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Ganny Saner’s house isn’t real. You can’t drive to it, you can’t find it on the internet

it’s never been photographed ,

it’s never been decorated for Christmas  or Halloween.

Photographer Unknown

Ganny Saner’s house haunts my thoughts and it haunts my dreams.

I can hear the front door, I can hear the basement door, I can hear the attic door

open and close and I can hear footsteps in the halls of Ganny Saner’s house

even when I am awake.

Photographer Unknown

Callie

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Writober Flash Fiction Prompt: Impostor Syndrome

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We are a family of four.

There is my sister Kimberly, my Dad Lionel and our Mother Beth.

My name is Callie.

We have always lived in our small gray house on Green Lake. Before we lived there my Great Grandparents lived there. In fact, they built our small gray house.

After they took over the  house, my Dad planted the cherry tree  and two apple trees in the back yard. My Mom planted the roses along the walkway from the sidewalk to our porch steps before me and Kimberly were born. My Great Grandfather buried his favorite dog along the fence line, but he’s not sure exactly where Tippy is buried.

Sometimes I think I can see Tippy, late at night,  strolling around the fence, looking for her unmarked grave.

Just before Halloween, I was in the back yard raking leaves when my Dad walked up behind me. He asked me if I knew what time Mom would be home and when I turned around to answer him, I dropped my rake. I felt an cold icy stream of sweat roll from the base of my neck down my spine.

The man standing there under the cherry tree my Dad had planted and had just asked where my Mom was- he looked like my Dad, he sounded like my Dad, but when he tilted his head down and waited for my answer- I knew it. There was a dark light shining from his eyes. That’s when I knew it for certain. I felt it in my bones- that man standing there was not my Dad and it took everything I had not to scream.

I finished raking the leaves. I bagged them. Then I walked around the side yard to the front yard and when I was sure I was alone I took sat down on the steps and waited for my Mom to come home.

When I saw her drive up with my sister riding shotgun I nearly cried in relief. I ran to the the car.

From the driver’s seat my Mom saw me standing there, my arms crossed across my chest. I was shifting from one foot to another. I felt cold. I was freezing.

I watched her turn to my Sister, then I saw my Mom nod. They got out of the car and my Mom asked why I was standing out here looking like I was about to wet myself. Did I get locked out of the house? Why didn’t I just go to the neighbors house and use their bathroom? What the heck was the matter with me?

Typical practical Mom stuff- I almost cried but this time it was in relief, then my Sister looked at me. She turned to my Mom and shook her head.

I heard her say to my Mom as they walked into the house:

” I’m telling you Mom, it’s not her. It looks like Callie, but it’s not her. ”

My Mom looked at my sister, then she looked at me and I saw that same dark light in my Mom’s eyes. I looked at my Sister and that same shadow was shining just a little bit in my Sister’s left eye.

When I was sure the coast was clear, I snuck into the house. I went into the bathroom. I looked into the mirror.

I am Callie. I knew it. I am Callie.

I have always lived in this house with my Mom and Dad and my Sister and my Great Grandfather’s dog that’s buried in our back yard somewhere.

I put my hand on my reflection’s face. I saw shadow spill from my right eye. It was crept to my left eye.

I am Callie I told my reflection.

Now.

Tani Goes Halloween Shopping

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For Experience Writing  Writober  Flash Fiction: FEAR OF FAILURE

Tani only dressed up for Halloween because her Mom and Dad made a big deal out of taking Tani and her brother Slyvester out for dinner at the Burger Barn and then to Helblings Department Store to choose a boxed costume out of the  hundreds upon hundreds of costumes that took up the back of the store.

Helblings also gave away free plastic pumpkins to put your loot in and they gave away free popcorn to.

Tani’s Dad, who was normally an impatient man with other places to be and her Mom had projects she was always working on something in her sewing room- the thing is she was always behind in her projects and that always made her a little crazy. But when it came time to shop for Halloween costume, Tani’s parents were front and center and ready to rock and roll.

The second they walked into Helblings, Tani’s little brother raced down one aisle and back up another. When he returned he had three boxes in arms- a magician, a race car driver and an astronaut. ” I can make up my mind! ” Sylvester said. ” Can  I get all three? ”

Tani’s Mom shrugged. ” Sure. Go ahead. ”

”  Okay. I’m done. I’m going to get my popcorn now. Hurry up Tani!”

Sylvester was gone in the blink of an eye.

” What do you think Tani? ” her Dad asked as if he had all the time in the world to hang out in Helblings.

” I  don’t know. Maybe a nurse? The Fortune Teller is okay too. ”

” Get them both. It’s fine. You can always give the ones you don’t like to your cousins. They’ll be big enough to wear them next year. ”

Tani reached up and grabbed a Princess mask. She had a pink plastic matching dress. ” I like this one. It might be fun to look like- ”

Sylvester was back and he had two bags of popcorn. He handed one out to Tani and her Father grabbed it. He winked at her.  ” Choose your costume and ye shall be rewarded. ”

” Dad, ” Tani said as she slid the palm of her hand down her face and gently  removed the skin mask she wore when they went out. ” I want to look like a girl for Halloween. A pretty one. ”

Tani’s Mom took the Princess Costume from Tani’s hand and she told her eldest daughter, the child she had lovingly stitched together from the remnants of children left behind in cemeteries all over the county they lived in, ” You are beautiful Tani- no matter what mask you choose to wear.”