#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.

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 – 81 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

“Dalia ” by Farida Sherif

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...

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“I Never Knew Your Name” by Francois Kosie

Submitted to Contest #164

I never knew your name, but I always knew that it was you.When I told you where I was going, you always replied, "I'll see you there."In the beginning, we played in a kingdom by the sea, among the toy horses and dinosaurs, collecting golden coins as we frolicked in the softness of calm meadows and coves.Stacking blocks, we built ourselves an elaborate house and everything else we could conceive, all the while avoiding the lingering creepers.Then one day, there was a change. I found myself dying of thirst, and you were the polished sphinx I m...

9 comments 9

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“A Fly On The Wall” by Melissa Rea

⭐️ 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...

5 comments 5

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“The Crumble Will Survive” by Scott Christenson

Submitted to Contest #164

My daughter Liz’s teacher sits in our kitchen, sipping tea, and coos in a Newcastle accent, “Paul Hollywood, Oh yes!”“Paul…,” I reply in a syrupy tone. “He just exudes manliness.” “He can bake my cake,” Catherine quips and we both break out into giggles.A few minutes later I will stomp out after she says “Where I come from, Yorkshire Puddings are made with beef drippings”, and wonder if I have just ruined Liz’s school year at school over an argument about puddings.**I think back to moments earlier when things were going so well. I ...

6 comments 6

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“Sunlight Therapy” by Carol Sanderson

⭐️ 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...

12 comments 12

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“Ice Cream” by Amanda Lieser

Submitted to Contest #164

“Baby, where I come from, we don’t eat ice cream like that,” Derek leans in real close so I watch every word float from his perfect Cupid’s bow shaped lips.I think about kissing them.They’d be cool and I might just run my tongue over them, tasting the hint of peanut butter from his dessert. My mind is racing over the last 90 days with him as I play back all of our dates like a movie. There was our walk around the park when the sprinkler system went off so we had to run like crazy back to his car. It turned out alright because he gave me...

18 comments 18

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“A Present Passed and the Future” by Thom With An H

Submitted to Contest #164

Brad stood silently outside Dr. Gardner’s office within arm's length of the dark wooden door that stood between him and his future. He had been summoned but still struggled to knock. Over the years Brad had been in his bosses' office more times than he could count but never like this. This visit terrified him and he was certain his shallow breath and sweaty forehead would betray his trepidation the moment he entered the room.As a young surgical resident, he had sought out the grizzled chief of neurosurgery and practically begging him to be h...

9 comments 9

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“Sex, Drugs, and Bunny Rabbits” by Graham Kinross

Submitted to Contest #164

TW: Exactly what it says on the bottle. Alice popped a pill bottle and dropped a lump of white something into my hand. “Go on. They’re awesome.” She smiled but all I saw was her nose ring. She wore a rainbow lined with faux fur. Her fingerless gloves had inspired the Lonely Island anthem. The lady of chaos threw the pill into her mouth and gulped it down. “Are they yours?” I asked. Reading the labe...

12 comments 12

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“Gold in Them Hills!” by Kendall Defoe

Submitted to Contest #164

“Hey, kid! Good to see you! You are gonna love it here…if you have the right guide to things.” Uncle Jack was many things, but you could not call him a cynic. No, no, he always believed that things were going to get better, for all of us. The first time we met, he was standing in front of the train station, old raincoat but no umbrella on what was one the rainiest days of the year. The hat he had on his head – he told me that it was once called an Anthony Eden, whoever that was – provided him no protection from the water and I thought that t...

4 comments 4

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“Welcome Homeless” by P. T. Golden

Submitted to Contest #164

Contains sensitive subjects. Complex issues with homelessness and implied not explicit abuse. Also contains war trauma.When Bob Marley sang “cold ground was my bed last night, rock stone was my pillow,” he was wealthy, but with the humbleness to sleep on the ground with “Rockstone” (now a monument) as a pillow. A pillow of any sort would be a luxury beyond my means. The cold ground, this night feels harder than ever. The rough pattern of pavement etched into my raw back. Struggling to sit upright felt like flesh peeled free from the street. ...

15 comments 15

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“The Old Philologian” by Chris Campbell

Submitted to Contest #164

Kenneth Crook slipped his arms through the black robe of authority more commonly worn by school masters in the English public education system like Eaton, and the universities of Oxford and Cambridge. However, today – like every school day for the past three decades, he was preparing to teach Grammar School pupils in the heart of London’s Marylebone district at a school fighting for its very existence in the Conservative governments’ restructuring of the school class system. It was the 1970s. The era of working-class upheaval. Kenneth had al...

5 comments 5

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“Rumors of Night” by Toni Suing

Submitted to Contest #164

Where I come from, no one stays out past dark. You don’t dare look in the mirror in the middle of the night or glance out the window when it’s pitch black. There’s stories and legends that there are creatures that like to wander around during those times. I’ve never witnessed any of these rumors before, but I’ve been told that when my grandmother was little, she experienced some of these firsthand. I remem...

2 comments 2

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“Farewell to Knuckle Falls ” by John K Adams

Submitted to Contest #164

The rock and roll star, Croesus Skye (birth name Albert), earned his nickname for his string of gold records. His music speaks to almost everyone. Critics take the perspective that if his music is popular, how good can it be? What could millions of fans know that the critics don’t? What are his bonafides? Even Mozart had formal training. Where is this guy from? Are idiot savants a real thing? Fans are not mystified by his world-wide popularity. Throngs meet him at airports and concerts. But Croesus employs no security guards to run interfer...

2 comments 2

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“The Innocent One” by Vince Vance

Submitted to Contest #164

The Innocent One You ever get accused of doing something you didn’t do? Well, I have. And it ain’t too grand, Stan! The only thing worse is getting grounded for something you didn’t do. It hurts. Really! I know. You get this real bad feelin’ right in your gut like you ate too much candy before breakfast the mornin’ after Halloween. That feelin’ stays there ‘cause no one will believe you. &...

6 comments 6

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“It Rained That Day” by Shobana Gomes

Submitted to Contest #164

Where I come from, the rain either poured or danced under rays of sunlight. Rainy days crept up on me in silent acceptance of the ways of nature. They resemble the ire of human nature or the gentle reflection of beauty amidst tempest. Light streamed from the rooftop of an opposite building into my hotel room. The stretched beams bounced off the adjacent walls to project a smoky ambiance to the dull, now partially brightened room. I thought about how the lights shifted the drudgery of darkness to create an almost magical illusion fo...

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$250

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235

Contest entries

91

Stories

Ended on 23:59 - Sep 23, 2022 EST

Won by Lindsay Flo 🏆

Title: Mothering

Submissions must be between 1,000 - 3,000 words and will be approved and published on Reedsy Prompts within 7 days of the contest closing.

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#164: Where I Come From

This week's prompts

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

Write a story in which someone returns to their hometown.

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

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

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.