Hop on #TuesFlashFicTrain Week 1.6

And I continue to slack! I need to set an alarm or something to remind myself to set this post up ahead of time.

Anyway, for this week’s prompt I was thinking something along the lines Homecoming (it’s my high school’s homecoming week and I’m feeling a bit nostalgic). So the prompt is this: write about your character coming home after a longtime absence. Home can be anywhere, and they could have been off doing anything – having an adventure, hiding, or just plain lost. Let your imaginations run wild and free!

Remember, keep it under 400 words & submit your response in the comment section below. Don’t forget to include your twitter handles and/or other social media links for promotion! Submissions close Wednesday at 10PM (since the post went up late) – tell your friends!

Questions, suggestions? Check out the rules in more detail and/or drop me a line!

As always, think happy thoughts!

Image credit: Image found via Google Image Search on quotesgram.com

PS. Still trying to vary the posting format, but I don’t know how I feel about it.

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3 thoughts on “Hop on #TuesFlashFicTrain Week 1.6

  1. The stale air of vacancy met my nostrils. A layer of dust settled over the tidy couch. Photographs appeared faded in their frames. I picked up the closest one. Father and I at a baseball game. His body language spoke volumes as he stood a small distance from me, no warm hand around my shoulder. Mother hovered in the background, her fake smile just as beautiful as the real one she rarely revealed.

    I had been gone too long.

    I ran away from everything, unable to endure the dramatic atmosphere any longer. Mother cried when I left, my father offered a mere nod. Their emotions evaded me. I never could quite grasp their affection or the lack thereof. Why they adopted me, I did not know. My childhood lacked little, save love. My efforts to find my natural family eluded me, so I returned.

    I pressed a key on the piano. The soft note sang harshly, out of tune. A pile of letters on the side table caught my attention. My hand trembled as I reached for it, closing my eyes against the words I hoped not to see. There they laid, black against the white paper. My return address hovered at the top left corner. All but one had been opened. My father must have passed before he could read it. If he had, maybe he would have held on a little longer.

    I stayed away too long.

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