Short stories: Childhood memories 97 Articles

by Shey Cannon

A FINE VINTAGE WINE I placed the tattered box onto the dining room table and pulled out an object that made my grandfather's weathered face beam with delight. Taking it from me he sat thoughtfully in his wheelchair, w...read more

by Lorena Bowser

Behind the schoolyard, where the city left off and the hills began their march toward the coast, grew vast fields of mustard flowers. Each spring, I felt myself irresistibly drawn to their brightness. I found that I coul...read more

by Rene Riter

Gemstones in the Sand There is a place I like to physically visit occasionally, but most often I go there in my mind. As a child I hated it. As an adult I have come to realize how very special that place once was and ho...read more

by Joshua R. Grocott

War on Wasps. Wasps were nesting in an air vent below my window. One had stung me without provocation, first blood had been drawn and I knew what must be done. I observed them streaming from the grate, embarking on thei...read more

by Amanda Le Bas De Plumetot

Summers were longer then, and warmer. Winters were colder, the crack of ice on puddles, the bite of wind, rattling the windows, the coziness of making a cubby under the clothes-horse in front of the fire. Dad watching foot...read more

by Steve Marshall

I was always a quiet and rebellious type of boy, not openly rebellious but always trying to get my own way behind the scenes and the immediate circumstances in our environment. In my own way, I wanted my own way and to do ...read more

by Suzanne Marsh

Dad was an old Brooklyn Cowboy who had never been on a horse in his life and for my tenth birthday he took me horse back riding. I had been watching the series FURY and dreamed of nothing but horses. My birthday is in Oc...read more

by Derek Huang

It started with 8 stitches. I don't believe I've ever cried harder in my life than I did in those long minutes. Much of it is a blur: the fumbling of feet against metal fence, the slip, the outstretched hand catching on t...read more

by J. Michael Brown

The Bicycle Ride When I was young, I lived in a rural town. The town had one paved road and the rest were gravel. In the summer, the gravel roads were very dusty. The few kids in town would ride their bikes on the ...read more

by I. Michael Akbar

Practice Swing The weather was absolutely gorgeous that August day so long ago now, that first day that my father took me to the driving range. I didn't care that he had never swung a golf club in earnest in his life, ...read more

by Natalie Barry

I stood there fixated on her limp body , sprawled out on the couch. I was young but knew this was not normal , other Mommy's didn't do this. Other Mommy's didn't drink all the time and not care about where their little g...read more

by Anne King

Finish it fast Maybe if she could finish it fast enough she could stop them. A pan clanged against the stove as she set it down, hurrying too much, trying to keep an adult's anger from bursting out of a child's chest. ...read more

by Tom Upton

The Hanging Boy It was as if the whole thing hadn't happened at all, but really it had, and it would haunt me years later. I was seven-years-old when I found the hanging boy. It was an early summer morning....read more

by Dan Warren

Her first hard decision She stood there considering things. Heed to her father's guidance and not steal, or take the gum for a snack. It's such a simple thing, a pack of gum, twenty five cents. Of course she'd have to...read more

by Prairie

The Learning Nine-year-old Rosie pulled the blankets over her head, trying not to hear her mother's voice from the bottom of the stairs. "Johnny! Rosie! Mary! Time to get up! You have to walk to school this morning! Br...read more

by Rahsaan Kitson

Nana and her Fairies Everyone says my Nana is weird, and to be honest with you, she is. Unlike all my friends' Grandparents who live in the new Evening Dale Retirement Village down on the waterfront, she lives by ...read more

by Ebba Kingstrom

MAMA'S OLD BROWN SWEATER The stretchy old brown sweater was a symbol of love, warmth, acceptance, family ties. In itself, it was worthless, good only for a clean-up rag. But embodying the person of a generous, warm-h...read more

by Rachel Amburgey

When I was ten, if you asked me what a paradise was, I would have said the words: trees, water, sand, sun, warmth, and love. I was ten when my paradise was taken away from me. Indiana. The name chilled my heart. But as w...read more

by Jack Malta

Ten. Along the beach were small wooden huts, topped with corrugated roofing and facing out toward the sea. Bright old paint peeling away from the walls. The locks on the shutters grown with rust. The sun red and low i...read more

by John Barden

An Irish Pastime Things were rolling along quite nicely after dinner when the regular card players began itching for a game. "Let's get the main table cleared and play some 25," suggested Uncle Mickey. Thre...read more