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#164 Where I Come From

Elizabeth Brewster wrote a beautiful poem titled ‘Where I Come From’ — this is how it begins:


“People are made of places. They carry with them 

hints of jungles or mountains, a tropic grace

or the cool eyes of sea gazers.”


I’ve always loved this poem’s abstracted sense of local identity, so this week I invite you to consider how your characters’ backgrounds affect their personalities and choices.

🥇 Winner

Mothering

Winner of Contest #164 🏆

Carmen invades my mind a lot, even years after her astonishing death. Life is strange like that, sometimes. How people who didn’t necessarily have a starring role in your life sometimes have the greatest impact. As an adult, I think of Carmen as the mom I want to be. She’s the mom I try to be, even though I will never be as carefree and full of joy as she was. I parent with law and order, Carmen did it with wildness and magic. As a kid, though, Carmen was the mom we all wished was our own. It was the way of preteen girls then and now; your o...

198 likes 127 comments 127
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⭐️ Shortlisted

"William Raymond Lawson, Is That You?"

Shortlisted for Contest #164 ⭐️

Old Mr. Bill was long gone from this world when a neighbor finally found him, slumped in his chair with a cat curled at his feet. The poor woman didn’t expect to find him dead, though at his age, no one should've assumed he'd live much longer, but the shock of his death was nearly overshadowed by what she found in his home: an overwhelming and astonishing volume of artwork. Paintings hung on almost every square inch of the walls, some on simple canvases, others in gilded frames. They lined both sides of the hallway and the stairwell leading ...

63 likes 60 comments 60
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Another Woman's Son

Shortlisted for Contest #164 ⭐️

CW: Child lossMy husband had warned me Josh Carter was back. Still when I came out of the supermarket and saw him, the shock of it stopped me.I stood frozen with a bag hanging from each hand, people parting around me. He was almost exactly as I remembered him. The same dark hair, the same swinging stride.I knew without having to think how old he was. Twenty-two next month. Just like Ryan would have been. Their birthdays were three weeks apart and I always used to make a cake for Josh too, because I knew his own mother wouldn’t.He didn’t see ...

46 likes 46 comments 46
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Harmony

Shortlisted for Contest #164 ⭐️

Where I come from, no one locks their doors. We don’t even have locks. It isn’t that they feel particularly safe, or kind to strangers. We don’t have those either. Strangers, that is. You see, I come from Harmony. Yes, that Harmony. Before you ask, no, I don’t have a third arm growing out of my shoulder, scales on my skin, barbs out of my spine. I mean, my skin gets dried out if I spend too much time in the sun, but I think that’s true of anyone, even Beyonders. I wasn’t alive for the beginning, but I’v...

33 likes 15 comments 15
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Impressionism

Shortlisted for Contest #164 ⭐️

Impressionism On the walls of Ishi’s house were pictures his Mum had painted: red and purple figures shaking their heads or moving their hands in front of their faces; naked bodies painted from behind that were little more than a blue smudge. But we never spoke much about her art. We stayed up late playing Sonic the Hedgehog and Jazz Jackrabbit on Ishi’s Dad’s computer. One time I stayed over at Ishi’s, I wet the bed, but his Mum didn’t get angry. She stripped the blow-up mattress I’d been sleeping on and let me sleep in his little sister’...

24 likes 5 comments 5
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A Fly On The Wall

Shortlisted for Contest #164 ⭐️

                   A Fly On The Wall Where I come from is dark, dank and no one lives longer than a day. Except for me that is. My name is Roscoe T. Fly. I am a fruit fly, by trade and watching humans is my game. Those whose faces I now find reflected in the shiny red facets of my compound eyes, are far more interesting than most. Perhaps you will watch with me a while? I can’t read human minds, but a fly sees things and learns. I think one of the...

21 likes 5 comments 5
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Sunlight Therapy

Shortlisted for Contest #164 ⭐️

On the porch we gather – old friends and new, sages and comedians – no more than one degree of separation woven into the fabric of our town.  “The Retired Teachers Brigade” meets each Thursday after four o’clock, in the sunlight, on the porch.  Real life with patina. We pour words of truth  –  revealing the interior spaces of our lives –  then  drink another glass of wine.  Oh, there is little that gives comfort, like a session of porch therapy. I first moved here as a student –  in recovery from a...

19 likes 12 comments 12
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This week's prompts

Start your story with a character saying “Where I come from, …”

Middle School – 85 stories

Write a story in which someone returns to their hometown.

Adults – 80 stories

Write a story about coming of age in a big city.

High School – 14 stories

Write a story where a local takes a newcomer under their wing.

Adults – 24 stories

Think of someone who stood on the periphery of your childhood memories (a classmate, a teacher, a neighbor) and cast them as the main character of your story.

Middle School – 31 stories

Stories

Mothering

Winner of Contest #164 🏆

Carmen invades my mind a lot, even years after her astonishing death. Life is strange like that, sometimes. How people who didn’t necessarily have a starring role in your life sometimes have the greatest impact. As an adult, I think of Carmen as the mom I want to be. She’s the mom I try to be, even though I will never be as carefree and full of joy as she was. I parent with law and order, Carmen did it with wildness and magic. As a kid, though, Carmen was the mom we all wished was our own. It was the way of preteen girls then and now; your o...

198 likes 127 comments 127
Read story

Soul Delicious

Submitted to Contest #164

Where I come from,…You need not be afraid to die tomorrow if you concern yourself with how you live this day. For die you will, if not this moment, then at a time that shall come. Life is the only thing I know of that we’ll take with us once we die, so live your life well. Squander not what you have before you today, for tomorrow you may not have what you had yesterday. The past is your legacy, and the present is a gift. But the future may betray you, so choose your course carefully.Life is often harsh. Yet it’s what tempers and forges and p...

70 likes 36 comments 36
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"William Raymond Lawson, Is That You?"

Shortlisted for Contest #164 ⭐️

Old Mr. Bill was long gone from this world when a neighbor finally found him, slumped in his chair with a cat curled at his feet. The poor woman didn’t expect to find him dead, though at his age, no one should've assumed he'd live much longer, but the shock of his death was nearly overshadowed by what she found in his home: an overwhelming and astonishing volume of artwork. Paintings hung on almost every square inch of the walls, some on simple canvases, others in gilded frames. They lined both sides of the hallway and the stairwell leading ...

63 likes 60 comments 60
Read story

Another Woman's Son

Shortlisted for Contest #164 ⭐️

CW: Child lossMy husband had warned me Josh Carter was back. Still when I came out of the supermarket and saw him, the shock of it stopped me.I stood frozen with a bag hanging from each hand, people parting around me. He was almost exactly as I remembered him. The same dark hair, the same swinging stride.I knew without having to think how old he was. Twenty-two next month. Just like Ryan would have been. Their birthdays were three weeks apart and I always used to make a cake for Josh too, because I knew his own mother wouldn’t.He didn’t see ...

46 likes 46 comments 46
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Smoke Detectors

Submitted to Contest #164

Where I come from, you can’t put batteries in the smoke detectors. Mom smokes so much, it’s in the walls. It’s an everlasting presence in the air. There is no air. Not really. Just methanol and acrolein and hydrocarbons and other things that belong in cement and not in the lungs. On the kitchen table, there are playing cards. Mostly jokers. Nobody plays cards here. Nobody knows how to play cards, but everybody likes how they look splayed out next to overflowing ashtrays and tabloids stained with Diet Coke. “Somebody give Boo Boo a piece of...

44 likes 26 comments 26
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Humorous-Man

Submitted to Contest #164

(Content Warning: Language, Violence, Blood, Murder, Crude humor.) “Where I come from, the sun is shining, and the birds are chirping, but this evil place is unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. Nonetheless, a hero must always look on the bright side of things. My mission is of the utmost importance!” The guardians of the black gates looked at each other in bewilderment. They didn’t know if the stranger before them was talking to himself or them directly. Anok merged his spear with Trella’s to form an “X,” effectively blockin...

43 likes 19 comments 19
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Harmony

Shortlisted for Contest #164 ⭐️

Where I come from, no one locks their doors. We don’t even have locks. It isn’t that they feel particularly safe, or kind to strangers. We don’t have those either. Strangers, that is. You see, I come from Harmony. Yes, that Harmony. Before you ask, no, I don’t have a third arm growing out of my shoulder, scales on my skin, barbs out of my spine. I mean, my skin gets dried out if I spend too much time in the sun, but I think that’s true of anyone, even Beyonders. I wasn’t alive for the beginning, but I’v...

33 likes 15 comments 15
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Page 998

Submitted to Contest #164

Brandon looked out over the floor – with its winding counter and Plexiglas shield segregating hundreds of staff from a legion of customers, with its myriad stanchions webbed together by criss-crossing tape that formed Möbius lines, with its three lazy fans that did little more than shuffle the stale sweat air from armpit to nostril, with its never-ending symphony of phone-rings and baby-shrieks and tired-grumbles accented by improvised solos of the irate, with its Byzantine maze of signs and symbols and arrows hanging from the ceiling, with ...

29 likes 49 comments 49
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Bury Me Home

Submitted to Contest #164

The rolling hills of the Midwest undulate like the humps of the Midgard Serpent, locking the hard-pan clay together. Its scales are clusters of juniper and elm, erupting from sandstone bluffs. The forked tongue is a confluence of two mighty rivers, the legs, scars of railroad beds riveted to the land with iron, torn from its own belly. Johnathon remembers seeing the beast in the ancient lake that had been plowed by glaciers from the last Ice Age, or is it a recurring dream, he never quite figures that part out.“Penny for your thoughts.” Gwyn...

26 likes 15 comments 15
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Romea and Julian

Submitted to Contest #164

TW: Violence and domestic abuse.“Where I come from, you watch the water from the inside of the bridge, not the outside.” I said it as a joke. The moment Romea turned I saw that there was nothing to joke about.            “Julian?” She asked. She had a bruise across her face in the yellow light of the streetlamps. “Stay back.”            “What happened?” I asked her. My brown eyes absorbed the awful sight of a mark that was ...

26 likes 10 comments 10
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To Be Heard

Submitted to Contest #164

Going back home was the worst mistake of my life.Well, that's not exactly true.The worst mistake of my life was going back home with a divorce.Small towns are like a big family. Which means the people look out for each other. They care about each other.And they talk about each other.It took maybe three days for the word to spread.When my cousin Deb found out about my divorce, she almost seemed excited. Like she'd been waiting her whole life for this moment. Her text came through at midnight. It was full of assurances. Like, she was the only ...

24 likes 17 comments 17
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Impressionism

Shortlisted for Contest #164 ⭐️

Impressionism On the walls of Ishi’s house were pictures his Mum had painted: red and purple figures shaking their heads or moving their hands in front of their faces; naked bodies painted from behind that were little more than a blue smudge. But we never spoke much about her art. We stayed up late playing Sonic the Hedgehog and Jazz Jackrabbit on Ishi’s Dad’s computer. One time I stayed over at Ishi’s, I wet the bed, but his Mum didn’t get angry. She stripped the blow-up mattress I’d been sleeping on and let me sleep in his little sister’...

24 likes 5 comments 5
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Breeding Coins

Submitted to Contest #164

Cold, crap covered cobbles assaulted Neville’s nose. Rubbing his filthy hands together, he watched his breath mist the air.            “Keep up, Neville Cobbler, when the door to the workhouse closes you starve. If you want a meal, you turn the wheel.”            “I know, Albert, I know. Quit using my full name. You’re my brother, not my father.” He ran to keep up with the boy whose strong gait belied years of hard labour.&...

23 likes 5 comments 5
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Alien Jam

Submitted to Contest #164

“You remind me of someone,” you say to me squinting your steely blue eyes. It’s unsettling how everything else about you has changed and withered over the past six years except for those damned eyes. I say hi and you look sweetly at me, offering your hand to shake mine. I like this. No more displays of forced, fake fondness. Now we can just be ourselves.Don’t get me wrong; I’m not a handshake kind of woman, but I like my words and gestures to be a true reflection of how I really feel about someone. It’s getting chilly out here. Sep...

22 likes 16 comments 16
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Dalia

Submitted to Contest #164

In the city, it’s hard to have friendly neighbors. You grow up seeing all these movies about being best friends with the girl next door, you would have all these sleepovers and share secrets. But the only thing you end up having is shattered expectations, and a grumpy guy in the floor below who keeps knocking on your door every two days yelling “stop playing the damn piano”. They don’t understand music here, they only know noise.And when you’re 10, you don’t understand why people don’t smile back in the elevator when you’re straight up beami...

22 likes 0 comments 0
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