All the houses on the block were the same to me except for the house on the corner. The house on the corner had a bright colored roof, narrow windows, and a small round door. Yet all the houses on that block had bright colored roofs, (reds, greens, oranges)narrow windows, and round doors. What made the house on the corner special is that it was filled to the top with only stories about you and me. It was not a house for people, furniture, and pet cats and dogs. Inside, its rooms were stacked high with tales of our life together as a couple. Someone might think the building set like a warehouse or monument, but I know its purpose for us was much greater than that. It held and connected our different experiences together, with certain understandings being secured, and anchored down. Day and night the house would sit on the corner with our fairy tales, dramas, romances and tragedies. It would sit quietly like a book on a library ledge.1
Time went by in a mildewed peace and all life appeared to remain the same. Then one night a terrible storm attacked the house on the corner, and in a noisy darkness shook the building back and forth. The house through the long years had lost faith in itself. It had aged like an old vegetable that missed its purpose, and was now filled with dying seeds. Soon enough it surrendered to the storm, falling over with a soft splitting thump, and breaking apart. Many of the stories were crunched tightly into one another like ten years of memories shoved into a pocket. Others were torn to shreds. There were different parts and pieces of book covers and pages scattered over the lawn, sidewalk, and street. Any stories left intact lay heavy and still like a small dead animal. 2
The next morning was gray. This dark light lay solid as bricks over the wreckage. There was no one there but myself. In a calm desperation I crawled through this confusion and loss, sifting through the damp lumps of words by the handful, and fingering over the different letters. It was important to me to see what remained. 3
Author notes
Your grade school teacher told you there is no such thing as a dumb question. That isn't quite true but I would love any feedback/questions you have on this.
What did you think? Please comment!
Comments
1 - 10 of 10
-
Wow! What a great extended metaphor for a failed relationship, or dysfunctional family, or whatever fails or falls -- your descriptions are so detailed that the whole picture seems and feels real -- the loss is devastating. Your last few lines, crawling through the confusion, sifting through damp lumps of words..."It was important to me to see what remained" So powerful. If it wasn't so late at night, I'd start on your other stories. Maybe tomorrow!
-
Again thanks you for your thought out comments. You probably know yourself how encouraging good feedback is.
-
I think the mataphor in this is superb. The old house crammed with stories like lives, relationships, anything wor keeping. The storm relates strongly, to me anyway, of arguments and misunderstanding. The stories laying flat is so reminiscent of the familiarity that breeds contempt and finally the description of the storm reminds me that troubles come suddenly, without warning. Again you have managed to paint a vivid picture without being trite or cliched. It takes a rare talent to do that.
-
How embarassing, you read my note to myself. I was scraping along the bottom at that point and desperate to hear something good decided to write to myself. Thanks for the ideas on how to get your writings out there and read. I will try that. And again a big thanks for reading my stories and liking them. I'm pumped up.
-
You are funny Uncle! I read your comment to yourself. That's very ummm.....impressive. 
If you have read any of my stuff, you know that I too write short stories, although of a different nature. I don't post my stories in the "story" section. I post them just as I would a poem and then in parenthesis I let people know it's a story. In my case, I will put (an erotic story) after the title. I would suggest you do the same if you want to get more readers. I don't know why, but few people make it past the poems section and that's too bad. Your stories are fasinating and I know they would be enjoyed and appreciated by many if they were seen. I love your use of metaphors. I've never written a story using metaphors as you do. You have quite a talent and a gift. Give my suggestion a try and see what happens. And featuring a piece doesn't hurt either. Pick out your best piece and feature it. It will at least get you known to a few people and from there word spreads. I have already told one friend, a co-worker, to come read your stories. 
I plan on working my way through the rest as well. I like your style. It entertains as well as causing the reader to think and reflect.Great job! 
-
Thanks for appreciating this, it really helps. Things were getting so bad I ended up writing my own letter of praise to myself. That's sad stuff.
-
9/10
wow this is really deep, it reminds me of a story i wrote called alone (ch 1 and intro)....my applauds to you -
Wow Uncle you sure nailed it to the wall with this one. Had me think on relationships, what holds them together, you know that fine web the past, present, future is attached to that connects and cements a couple. And once that web breaks, (or in this case, house,) everything falls to the ground and the union is broken. Take heart that you've only had 8 hits on this story. Forget that other stories, (ones that are- in a metaphoric sense-unworthy to scrape the dogshit from your boots,) get 60 and 70 hits a week. Your day will come!! signed: Uncle
-
Hi: thanks for reading and commenting. The storm is whatever comes and makes the final push that tips over a marriage, or union of some sort. Keeping with the metaphor I had the stories become soaked and destroyed by this storm. When is part five coming?
-
i cant quite tell if the storm was literal, if someone died, or if someone left. in any of those situations the manner in which this is told is wonderful i absolutely adore the line about the vegetable. the only thing i could think of is this...you talk about a noisy darknes, but it sounds like the stories were dampened...the lump of a dead animal. tears cried? rain clouds i dont know...but would like to see that developed maybe.
Adding your comment:
1 - 10 of 10
