My ears are assaulted by chaos as my mom gimps our car to the side of the road. A quiver of terror rushes through me as I see the entire evening in ruins, up in flames. I feel myself slip into a fugue state. My mind becomes a vortex of time lost.
My little bubble shatters like glass as “we have to walk” pricks my consciousness. We’re close to home, not walk with three kids all uphill close to home. The mood shifted as though we were a pack of rabid, foaming hyenas.
Exhausted herself my mother loaded all of us down with every drop of liquid we had in the car. Again, hot day. She explained the “game” we were going to play; I was severely skeptical. But when my mom handed me a walking staff and dubbed me Frodo, I had no choice but to go on an adventure. With Gandalf (mom), Sam (my middle sister), and our youngest sister as Gollum because you must have a villain.
As we hiked up hill, under the sun, we made a great memory. It never occurred to me till years later my mom had done the impossible. Stolen back, time.
About the Creator
Chantae Harding
Time to be honest and cut the crap. I love to write! I always have. I lost that for a while. I am here to grow, learn, and experience my own writing process. If you don't like my writing that's ok. I'm still learning.
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More stories from Chantae Harding and writers in Fiction and other communities.
Enter Sandman
A window curtain flutters on a night breeze. The window is open to let the cool spring air permeate the room. The night is bright so when the man passes on the outside of the window you can see his shadow, like dead night against the flower pattern. The little girl asleep in her bed will never know about the nighttime prowler.
By Chantae Hardingabout a year ago in Fiction
I Am a Prisoner who Dreams of Prisons
The dream always starts the same: I feel the cold bite of wind gnawing through clothes entirely inadequate to protect from the weather and I realize I am standing in line. Ahead of me and behind me are other inmates, identified by the burgundy scrubs we were issued upon arrival. I don't know where we're going.
By Kyle Cejka4 days ago in Fiction
Trapped In Dreamland
Itu adalah Minggu malam yang sangat lancar ketika saya mendapati diri saya berada dalam momen kesendirian yang jarang terjadi. Dunia di luar sepi, matahari baru saja terbenam di bawah cakrawala, meninggalkan langit yang dicat warna ungu dan merah muda. Saya memutuskan untuk datang lebih awal, karena berpikir istirahat malam yang baik akan menjadi cara sempurna untuk mempersiapkan minggu depan. Sedikit yang saya tahu, saya akan memulai perjalanan ke dunia Dreamland yang aneh dan misterius.
By Harlia Amalia7 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
A beautiful story!