The Old Days

This is a short memoir, about the prominence of your family and your bygone.That we count ourselves lucky.

The Old days

The memoir I’m talking about is comparatively scrupulous and insidious. You could say, it's a memoir in another memoir. If I go back to my  recollective conscious, I still able to reminisce everything that happened that day. It was a coldy-crispy morning, the sun was creeping up our house, like lava cowling over unpliable rock. We all eating breakfast, as Providential as we could ever be, that’s when grandma alluded to a sensitive topic, even for her. It was so instantaneous, like lightning striking moonless fields. The tension at the table was immobilized when my father's booming voice, exhorted that he would start with the story. With his esoteric voice, he started to talk about Indonesia, how this sublime country, became a war-zone. I was dumbfounded, how warmongering Japanese soldiers, could oppress so much, like lucid water dipped in a jorum of acrimony. The hairs on my silky skin, stood up like tall petrified oak tree’s in calamitous storm. My grandma face darkened, as if a umpteen of cockroaches crawled all over her. My grandma intervened in desultory manner, she wanted to end the story at full tilt. That following day it rained, as if the past had conveyed itself into our minds. The night pulled its cloak back on, spreading its dark veins into the world. The shadow of the house could be seen in glistening night, just waiting for dawn to come, like gladiators shielded by the valarium of the colosseum.

Reviews

[Bobinclear]

Thanks For your wonderful review, I really appreciate it, I will change that word

[AliciaB]

Interesting. There are some very intense images in this story - I especially enjoyed "like lightning striking moonless fields." Lots of impressive vocabulary as well, though I would check your usage in some instances - "exhorted" seems to be a little odd in context, for example. Other than that, an intriguing read. Nice work!