Our House


June 6, 2016 by Felicia Hf


Photo prompt provided by Piya Singh.

I stared at the old photograph. Its edges were worn and wrinkled; it had always been lying around on my desk, just waiting for me to finally go down to the shops and buy a frame. The stone house in the picture stirred old memories. It had been our house.

My best friend had found it when we were six, and since then, it had been our refuge. Empty and forlorn, the house only belonged to us.

I wondered whether it still existed. Whether someone had torn it down. Whether it had been blown up, like my best friend just had. The tears came streaming down my face then.

© 2016

Friday Fictioneers, 3 June 2016


17 thoughts on “Our House

  1. calensariel says:

    Very tender and full of meaning.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Dale says:

    The sweet mixed in with the huge sadness. LIfe does that, doesn’t it?

    Liked by 1 person

  3. luckyjc007 says:

    I enjoyed your post. So sorry about your friend. It’s a blessing to have the ability to remember things In the past even though they include bad memories .

    Liked by 1 person

  4. gahlearner says:

    It starts so innocent, with chilldhood memories and a bit of melancholy. And then: bang, on an aside we get the horrible truth about the best friend. Powerful writing!

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Dahlia says:

    Sweet memories overwritten with blood – well told.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. mandibelle16 says:

    Wow, you snuck that line in there about the bestfriend being blown up. That would be extremely difficult to come to terms with. No wonder she has this old photo on her desk she is looking at and recalling their good times spent together. Powerful write.

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Well that took a turn for the worst rather quickly…

    Liked by 1 person

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Title quote © Roald Dahl (BFG)



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