Short Story Press Presents Chest of Childhood
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An aged, decrepit old woman wanders the quiet hallways of her home. She remembers a day when they were brighter…more kinetic with anticipation of life within their walls. Family was a regular occurrence and the tinkling laughter of grandchildren used to echo through the house. Oh how she missed those times as she now hobbles oh-so-slowly with her cane through the archaic old home. And as the old woman wanders reminiscing through the halls, she comes upon a door; rusty hinges amplify groan of age as the door swings slowly open and she balances herself in the doorway. The old woman discovers a...
An aged, decrepit old woman wanders the quiet hallways of her home. She remembers a day when they were brighter…more kinetic with anticipation of life within their walls. Family was a regular occurrence and the tinkling laughter of grandchildren used to echo through the house. Oh how she missed those times as she now hobbles oh-so-slowly with her cane through the archaic old home. And as the old woman wanders reminiscing through the halls, she comes upon a door; rusty hinges amplify groan of age as the door swings slowly open and she balances herself in the doorway. The old woman discovers a chest…an antique old cedar chest that is very large, and her breath catches briefly as her heart thumps in her own body. The chest has sparked a memory and she releases the door jam and using her cane for support, the woman shambles over to the massive trunk with anticipation in her eyes. It had been near eighty-five years after all, since she’d seen what was in the trunk and she could barely remember, though it called out to her in the otherwise empty room. Now, it took her what seemed like a very long time to reach it, and when she did, her weakened old body fell against it for support. She fumbled with the latch as her gnarled and arthritic hands fought against what it was she desired, but finally…she was able to snap the hasp upward, releasing the lock on the trunk. What she discovered inside was not just a memory; what she discovered was a living, breathing catalyst that grasped her firmly in its grips and propelled her back in time. The old woman discovered herself in the midst of her childhood friends; a child again herself, she caught the jump rope chant on the wind… Short Story Press publishes short stories written by everyday writers.
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