Three 50-word pieces of flash fiction on the subject of ‘Home’.
I’d travelled far to see the old house where I was raised.
Nowt special to look at, except to me.
Childhood warmth, teenage mistakes.
My refuge, once.
But like me, it was gone.
No longer a place but a feeling, residing inside my head and my heart.
There are memories in these bricks.
Stacked one on top of the other; merged, melded into what was once my home.
In the daylight, warm.
In the shade, cold.
A place of protection and suffocation.
This place made me who I am.
It’s time to build something new.
Lives of Brian
Of all of Brian’s incarnations, the weevil was the hardest.
The frog was cool.
The human fun.
But living in a home of flour with his wheat allergy was always going to end in tears.
Now, at last: a duck.
Then the child threw the breadstick beakwards.
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