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#120 Nostalgia

Do you ever get a warm, fuzzy feeling when eating a favorite childhood meal or meeting up with an old friend? On the other hand, maybe you’ve revisited something you were nostalgic for, only to find it wasn’t quite what you remembered. Or perhaps you’ve found yourself longing for a time before you were even born...


This week’s prompts encourage you to write around the bittersweet feeling of nostalgia, and imagine the different ways your characters might confront memories from the past.

This week's prompts

Write about a character who yearns for something they lost, or never had.

Angst – 111 stories

Start your story with the line ‘Back in my day…’

Adults – 28 stories

Write about two characters’ different perspectives of the same past event.

Middle School – 36 stories

Start your story with a character looking through an old family photo album.

Fluff – 44 stories

Your character has always viewed the past with rose tinted glasses. Write about what happens when they’re finally confronted with the truth.

Angst – 25 stories

Stories

In my mind

Submitted to Contest #120

Her: In my mind, we were a movie; no subtitles and in a different language, but nonetheless, a beautiful production. You felt like the sunlight melting the layer of ice built on the surface of my skin. Exactly what I needed to complete myself. The only person that I could be happy around. You showed me how to let my guard down and break the pattern of toxicity. It felt like you were the only one who understood me, and some days, it still does. Our love was truly a sight to see, so when you said you want to separate, I can’t help but wonder w...

28 likes 14 comments 14
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Strange Red

Submitted to Contest #120

Siobhan Callaghan lives in the same town she grew up in—and has all of her life. She graduated from the local high school, attended the local trade school (but didn’t graduate), and has worked locally ever since. The most traveling she does is taking her delivery truck on the five-hour trip up the coast and back.And, once a year, her cousins convince her to drive to the city with them to shop at a ‘real’ mall. Sometimes, she can even be convinced to stay overnight for a midnight movie premier.“Look, that’s Victoria!” her cousin says, pointin...

23 likes 7 comments 7
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Sarah, Sarah, By the Sea

Submitted to Contest #120

In the other boat, he’d sing the loudest. Shanties and songs his father taught him. Blue-and-green crusted melodies learned in bars and passed on to children late at night with no consideration for school the next day. Iris would watch him get into the other boat despite her protests that the new boat was nicer and safer and could carry him home with certainty. She would watch as her husband of forty-eight years boarded the rain-stained craft--not much more than a dinghy these days--and sailed away singing “Sarah, Sarah, By the Sea” withou...

23 likes 15 comments 15
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something about the cold.

Shortlisted for Contest #120 ⭐️

CW: mental health, disordered eating There was something about the cold. Perhaps it was the quiet, gentle whistling of wind dancing through the bitter air; the sky void of clouds and an imperceptible shade of blue (or was it simply blank after all?). The barren, bleak landscape with powder dusting weary branches. Miniature mountains standing proudly on every street corner, boxing in sidewalks and feeling oddly protective of the freezing pedestrians. A painful chill pinching the insides of your nose, demanding your attention and assertin...

22 likes 12 comments 12
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Autumn Gardening

Submitted to Contest #120

(Scenes of bombing, injuries, death) Next to the cyclone fence, chrysanthemums were in bloom. Mariko Abe stooped stiffly to pull out a few weeds around them. A plane passed high above her and she straightened up, her heart pounding. Then she gave herself a shake. “Stop this nonsense. It's been fifty years. Are you going to jump like a rabbit every time a plane goes by?” She heard the phone ringing inside the house, and plodded across the grass, out of breath and wheezing. Fortunately, she made it in time. “Hello?” Mitzi’s cheerful voice...

21 likes 12 comments 12
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Love-Lost Purpose

Submitted to Contest #120

Ziad K. Abdelnour once wrote "Time is a currency that we can only spend once."What an interesting dichotomy this belief presents. The world is divided into two types of people it seems; the "Live for the moment" people, and the "Build a foundation for a better tomorrow" people. One group wears their heart on their sleeves, takes bold chances, lives fast, and throws their whole souls into whatever they do. The other class, uses caution, and logic. They strategically build their lives up around them, wagering that they will live long enough to...

21 likes 6 comments 6
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The Opera of Phantoms

Submitted to Contest #120

The melody begins slowly, the low dark sound of the lone cello filling the empty space and echoing around much like the thoughts in her own mind. The melancholic music seems to come from the shadows of the large room, its darkness broken only by small streaks of sunlight and her stark white dress. The extended notes from the cello continue, irreverent to her inner turmoil, yet deeply attuned to its anguish. She takes a deep breath, making the small beads on the bodice twinkle, slowly lifts her delicate chin, and raises her arms to position. ...

20 likes 3 comments 3
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Ash and Photographs

Submitted to Contest #120

The dreams always ended with rain.Not water—water was a blessing.Not hail—hail left nothing but bruises.This rain was ash.Ash signaled burns. Ash stained skin. Ash left a permanent mark, no matter its source.Ash was her name.It hadn’t always been that way. The ash had left its mark on that part of her life, too.Shadows hid the room around her. She had been here many times, more times than she could count. The musty smell, the dust in the air, the fine grey powder coating her fingers. It felt like home.A single spotlight cut through the air o...

19 likes 19 comments 19
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The Siren

Submitted to Contest #120

TW: Death, grief* * * The sunlight was fading, the roar of the waves droning into a gentle murmur, but he couldn’t scatter her ashes just yet. It was what she wanted, Jason knew, but for the time being, Cora was here with him.She wasn’t digging for seashells or lying on her towel under an umbrella. She wasn’t walking along the shore with her sundress blowing in the wind or chasing down the kids when they refused to put on sunscreen. But still, she was here, under the lid of the urn he clung to.This was supposed to be their time together, jus...

19 likes 3 comments 3
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Dreaming As Wars Go By

Submitted to Contest #120

The fire was low and the noise outside the school was getting louder.“Alice!” A frantic girl called. Alice looked up, hardly flinching as the windows and floor rattled under the shockwave of a shell landing. “They need you in the office! They’re performing an amputation!” Her French accent mangled the English words, fear thickening it. Alice swallowed hard and gestured to the soldier in front of her. “Take over here, Lucette.” She passed over the roll of bandages and dipped her hands in a bowl of cold, red water. She dried her hands on ...

18 likes 4 comments 4
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Good to the Last Drop

Submitted to Contest #120

TW: Abandonment issues.I used to envy people bragging on their family trees and illustrious histories. So many royals, battles, and mansions on the hill. Named for a general? Cool. The conversation always stalled when I asked, ‘And what great things have you done?’ Blank stares and heated debate about the Dodgers’ stats followed.Go ahead, blame sour grapes. Lacking estate, I’m descended from a dumpster in an alley behind a liquor store, on a hill. Have you heard of it? Found sired by a dumpster, blue from desperate crying. How long must one ...

18 likes 11 comments 11
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73 Seconds of Black and White

Submitted to Contest #120

Manila really is a busy place. The streets, the people, the vehicles.How noisier can these people be? If only I could yell that out — waiting for the traffic lights to turn green so I could finally cross the street and rid my ears of their misery. 73, 72, 71, 70. The red traffic lights count down. I feel annoyed. By my side stands a random woman tense and shouting at her teenage son about his failed grades. Her voice is so loud that even the trained-to-be-deafening yells of the jeepney barker, she topples off. For goodness' sake, the sun has...

18 likes 3 comments 3
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The Grave of Our Future

Submitted to Contest #120

The scarf tethered to my neck was orange like the sunset. I tugged at the worn fabric, loosening it enough to gulp down air. Despite the frigid weather, sweat bloomed on my skin, making my parka feel like a fiery prison. “Is that it?” I asked. He only nodded and patted my shoulder. His eyes were gray like the sky before it burst apart with rain during a storm. He watched me with a stillness that matched the forest all around us. “Is that it?” I repeated, unsure how to process the detour from our future that had seemed so sure ...

18 likes 11 comments 11
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Rudolph's Broken Leg

Submitted to Contest #120

“It doesn’t taste like mother’s,” Anna said dropping the hot pan of cornbread dressing on her sister’s kitchen counter.“Anna! Use a potholder under that dish!” Mandie snatched open the kitchen drawer and tossed a crocheted yellow potholder at her sister.“But you sure sound like her!” Anna said as the yellow rectangle landed on the floor, and she bent down to pick it up. “Did you crochet this one?”Mandie turned to look while she stirred the creamed corn. “Yes, I gave it to Mom for Christmas the year I turned fourteen.”“I’m going to miss havin...

17 likes 0 comments 0
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Grandma's Wake

Submitted to Contest #120

My name is Constance O’Dell, and I grew up in a typical suburb of Denver, Colorado, in the early 1970s. Typical in the way all the houses on my block looked somewhat the same. Ranch-style homes with attached garage, brick halfway up with painted wood on top. Everyone chose pale blue or white or some mundane color so you wouldn’t stick out. Our rooftop was sloped, as were they all, to assure the winter snow would run off, as running in would have been an entirely different matter. We all had a driveway, and a double-width sidewalk connected u...

17 likes 2 comments 2
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