Flash Fiction – The sound of home

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Photo courtesy of The Reclining Gentleman

 

It isn’t just the house I miss.

The sunflower yellow kitchen. The light streaming through the French windows, warming a spot on the carpet where the cat would sleep. It’s the noises that make up a home. Waking to the sound of crashing waves, the creak of the third stair whenever someone stepped on it, the screech of seagulls as I walked Ella to school, her small hand wrapped in mine. The crunch of shingle underfoot as I strode across the beach on the way home – salt air filling my lungs.

I miss those sounds. I miss you.

 

Written for Friday Fictioneers – A 100 word story inspired by a photo prompt. Pop along to host Rochelle’s blog and read the other entries. 

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60 thoughts on “Flash Fiction – The sound of home

  1. Nice atmosphere in this piece. My only thought is that you cover an array of senses i.e. colour, taste, sound etc. So perhaps it’s not just sounds you miss…it’s all the things which made up being home.

  2. Lovely. I am right there with you in this nostalgic (in a very good way) scene. “I walked Ella to school, her small hand wrapped in mine” this line makes me feel the vulnerability of Ella and the protection and love represented in the small hand in mine. Love this image.
    A wonderful take on the photo. Thank you for posting.

  3. Beautiful depiction of a home and a pleasant life. Makes you want to believe that the reason it’s gone is because of the passage of time only and not any sad event. But there’s a melancholy to the nostalgia even still. Nice job.

Constructive criticism appreciated

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