It has been 7 years since I left Baltimore. I decided to go
back to my old home, where my parents still lived. I did not call ahead of time because I wanted
to surprise them. When I got there I stood at the bottom of the multi-colored
stone walk way as memories of my childhood flooded my brain, like a pot of grits
that has boiled over onto the stove. I would hear Come in girls its dinner time as I washed away the chalk drawing
from the pathway with the water hose. Each
step was like walking down the isle on my wedding day, slightly nervous but
still extremely thrilled. I walked pass the ash bush that my green bouncy ball
used to roll under. I could remember the small scratches that aligned my arms from
trying to retrieve it. Raising my right arm knocked on the door. Not to loud. Not to soft. After about 2 minutes with no response I decided to
try my key. Surprisingly it worked I was in. As the door slowly closed, squeaking
like they do in horror films I was shocked at what I had walked in to.
I like the development of the anticipation as you walk up to the house. The ending is a real cliffhanger and make me want to read more. I hope you develop the piece further so that we can know what you saw. If you do develop the piece it would be nice to read about the difference between what you now see and what use to be there when you were a kid,
ReplyDeleteExcellent specific imagery here (the chalk drawing, the green bouncy ball rolling under the tree) and very effective work with fragments: Not to loud. Not to soft.
ReplyDelete(Though i think you mean "too.")