This was on me. I knew that.
Chance was a shit, but he was my little brother after all. And what he wanted wasn’t much. Besides, it would get him to finally shut up about the house.
“Ok. Get in the car, then.”
We didn’t recognize the place. The whole house had been ripped away like some giant hand had come down and scooped it up. We stared at it for a long time.
“Where’d the house go?” was all Chance would say.
Driving back, I knew it would have been better to let him keep the old memory instead.
Like it.
I like it…I like it a lot!
Nice one.
Quite right!
Aw. I feel for the kid. Great story, Randy.
Well done. Clear, concise, and poignant piece of writing.
Like.
Poor Chance. Good story!
This is an excellent story, nothing much going on, but so much said.
Memories of places and reality often collide. A sad lecture for Chance, and a great story.
This reminds me of what they did to my grandmother’s house. The new memory truly does suck. Well done.
What was this piece about?
Refresh my memory, please.
Randy
You can’t go home again. And if you do you”ll regret it.
Bummer. Going back so often disappoints.
The difference between a memory and reality is often great.
Great take on the prompt!
You can’t go back. I agree with all the above commenters. I like your description of the damage to the house, and I like the voice of the narrator – touching.
Great title for where you went with the story. It’s hard when our sense of place is shattered – well captured
No like Button, no Like!
😉 Sort of, Tay.
I like but no can like. Good tale.
Aloha,
Doug
I think the new memory would be worse – too bad he can’t keep the original memory. Good story! Nan 🙂