#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

“Nowhere, really” by Nikki Potgieter

Submitted to Contest #164

Where I come from isn’t really anywhere at all. It’s a shell of something that was hardly worth calling anything, really… when anyone still called it anything. It’s somewhere people pass through quickly, without a second glance, without looking back, hoping they make it to wherever they’re trying to get, hoping that they don’t suffer some kind of breakdown on their way to, well, somewhere… anywhere that isn’t here. You could call it a ghost town, but, if you ask me, not even ghosts want to roam here. People would jokingly say that it looks...

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“MISSING LEAVES” by Mae Siu-Wai Stroshane

Submitted to Contest #164

Where I come from, people’s family names come first. Family trees trace long ancestral lines back to a home village, and those who fall from their branches become missing leaves.My father came into Hong Kong along with thousands of refugees from China’s mainland who were desperate to escape Mao’s regime. He could have been the first leaf to fall from an ancient family tree. I’ll never know.My mother was an orphan, also from Guangdong Province. Right from the start, then, I was a missing leaf from two family trees.My parents met at the r...

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“Home” by Pene Worth

Submitted to Contest #164

Where I come from the sea is wild. The beach is a forest of torn up forests one day, a jungle of seaweed ripped from its beds the next. Waves crash relentlessly over jagged rocks spouting foam high into the air. My village nestles in a protected cove, cliffs soar high behind. Access is by a road for the stout of heart that twists over the bay, or a narrow channel to be braved only at high tides. Not surprisingly the population is small. It had grown though, over the years of my absence. Until now. I have been aware of a sudden drop in ...

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“The Rose” by Alice Baburek

Submitted to Contest #164

The Rose The heavy metal doors locked into place. A loud clang echoed against the dingy prison walls. Immediately, the lights grew dim. This prison held no more than two hundred inmates at one time—every bed in use. He plopped down upon the thin, worn-out mattress, ignoring the impulse to scream. Sometimes confinement within the grey three-by-five cell could drive a person insane. Under the flattened pillow lay hope: a worn calendar full of slash marks, one for each day served. Five more and then fre...

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“God's Toilet” by My Trip Around The World

Submitted to Contest #164

God’s Toilet By Anthony Mendoza 1 Geoff stared out the business class window of the airliner as it made its decent into Fortuna City. He hadn’t been in his hometown in 6 years and was overcome with anxiety and excitement. Set against the postcard-perfect Vagabond Bay, the port city of 4 million is a top destination for all who yearn to travel. A city exploding with world-class restaurants, the best nightlife, and dozens of points of interest, Fortuna City is luxury and glamour at its finest. Geoff didn’t know much of that wor...

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“Remnants Of A Hometown” by Roberto Naili

Submitted to Contest #164

My hometown, my hometown... Years ago, this place was a haven, a treasured, gatekeeping community of happiness and hope.I come here now and this place is gone, the community I once knew, gone, the people gone. Only despair to be seen and destruction, I now go to find out what has happened to this once great town, I now go to find out what has caused this destruction of the once beautiful landscape and the once happy people.As I make my way across the grey foggy streets over-encumbered in dust and insects I look to see the dilapidated buildin...

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“Eyes on the Rearview Mirror” by Daniel Rains

Submitted to Contest #164

The engine of my corvette purrs as I zip past the sign welcoming me to Lakeview—population 1932. There wasn’t a lake in the entire town or any body of water larger than a stream. The rationale for naming the desolate town died off dozens of years ago, about the time the coal veins stopped producing the black lifeblood of the area. I glance at my silent passenger. Her blank expression hasn’t changed since we started this trip. She peers forward like she’s concentrating on a bug splattered on the windshield while her crossed arms rest ...

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“The New Normal” by Davie McGuinn

Submitted to Contest #164

When Leonard stepped off of the Greyhound bus, he quickly noticed that he was not the only one with sleeve tattoos. College-aged adults, both male and female, had intricate designs woven and webbed up and down their biceps and forearms. He stepped inside a coffee shop unfamiliar to him. It was all unfamiliar to him. He reached in his front pocket and pulled out a crumpled five-dollar bill, some of his last money from his commissary account. He plopped the cash on the counter and sullenly yet politely asked for regular black coffee. The large...

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“1982” by James Freeh

Submitted to Contest #164

He rode the subway with semen in his underwear. It slowly dripped down the edge of his thighs as he read the Post, the gift of some unknown rider before him. He thought back to last night, the shy OSHA government worker so excited to bed a good looking, young (emphasis on young) man on a Wednesday evening. The sex was forgettable, but he was more than a little drunk by the time they left the bar. He rarely performed at his best when alcohol was involved. He couldn’t really remember what happened after they got to the OSHA guy’s home. They ta...

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“The BARd” by Troy Chavez

Submitted to Contest #164

Martin Hernandez was at it again. Speaking to a loathsome crowd that would rather hear music than his miserable rhythmic poems. The bar let him do it because he was a regular drinker there. A regular bum who stumbled in half drunk before picking up a few more glasses of poison. But when on stage, he got more than sober. He became entranced by a higher power. However, this higher power couldn’t save him from the occasional bottle thrown from the belligerently intoxicated crowd. They booed, jeered, and sometimes, cried. Martin loved when they ...

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“Surprising his favorite teacher with a special telephone call” by Michael Heavener

Submitted to Contest #164

Shoes—c'mon—what 11-year-old boy looks at his teacher's feet? She was always standing where he couldn't see over the heads of his classmates, except during tests when she sat with her feet behind her desk. Maybe he should have looked, given that Mrs. Arrington was his favorite teacher. It was 1962 and he was 11 years old. He had just moved to big city Seattle from faraway Farmington, New Mexico. It was the "Century 21" World's Fair and for a boy on the verge of growing up, that was an irresistible attraction. Sixth grade in a new school wa...

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“My favorite part of the week” by Paige Ladd

Submitted to Contest #164

Ten minutes to gunshots.“I am the dead end for food,” I said as I shoved another piece of celery into my mouth. “I’ll never be as notorious as her, but I’ve at least I have all the celery I want.” I nodded toward my sort-of rival.“Feeling gloomy today?” Rachel asked.Our lunch room wasn’t the raucous kind. Sure, it was a public school, but we weren’t barbarians. Angie was putting down her tray next to the choir kids this week. I am a great observer. She rarely ate three meals in a row with the same group of kids. I wondered if that was what m...

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“DuVall’s Fantastically Awful Day” by Emily Grace

Submitted to Contest #164

(CW: Swearing, mental illness, reference to bludgeoning) It was wet. The left side of his face, that is, was sopping wet. He registered that much as he opened his eyes. He looked up at a neon blue bulb hanging overhead. It burned into his eye sockets and decorated him in phosphorescent colors. He squinted. He’d have to switch bulbs again; this time to a dimmer purple. Maybe even green. Whichever color worked best with his ceiling fan. He smacked his lips together and tasted a bittersweet liquid. Ink. He turned, leaned up, and met h...

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“Mysterious Mary ” by Shannon Mabrey

Submitted to Contest #164

For Mary. May we forever show our love for others.Mary, the sweet, elderly lady who sat in front of my Mother and Father at church. I vividly remember her, standing a little under five feet tall, weighing a hundred pounds max, wearing huge framed glasses, which she constantly pushed up onto the bridge of her nose. She had a gentle look about her. Her smile, a perfectly straight set of pearly white dentures, brightened a room the moment she approached it. And she always smelled of peppermint, which I always assumed to be the shampoo she used ...

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“Sunshine girl” by Melissa Stark

Submitted to Contest #164

Warning: this story contains accounts of eating disorders and abuse. If you are easily triggered by these things, please consider not reading it.The first time it was said to me was at birth, not even old enough to open my eyes. Swaddled in my mother’s arms, the words fall from her lips: “My sunshine girl.” I’ve heard stories of when I was still waddling around on two chubby legs, my hair sticking itself out like a wispy mane. I was always laughing and smiling. The world was my...

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$250

Prize money

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.