End of Endless Memories

A touching short story cut short

   Their hands slid along the smooth, wooden banister as they trampled down the stairs towards the kitchen. The gleam of the sun shone through the windows, highlighting the room in a soft, warm glow. Mother was in the kitchen, standing in front of the oven. They could smell the aroma of her delicious apple pie wafting through the small, windowed door of the oven. They giggled and shoved each other as they danced around the kitchen table, almost knocking over various plates and nic-nacs. Mother yelled at them to leave and they did so, shoving and giggling along the way.

   They made their way to the living room where Pappa was seated in his recliner. The morning news drifted out of the television set discussing last night's rainstorm. From the bits and pieces they cared to hear, it had been a record rainfall this year. They commenced to jumping on the couch and pretending to be cops and robbers. Maybe Pappa would laugh and watch them? One of them leapt from the couch and ran past Pappa--consequently tripping over his slipper-enclosed feet and causing him to yelp in pain. He threw a slipper at them and told them to take their "shenanigans" outside.

   Not wanting to further upset Pappa, they scurried through the screen door leading into the backyard. The lawn was lush and green and the the air was full of Spring. Some of the trees bore fruits, others bore pretty flowers, and others simply bore beautiful green leaves. The sky was clear and blue with a striking glow of the Sun to shine down upon them. In the trees the birds serenaded the small village whose child populace was out enjoying the gifts of the season. Small, scattered clumps of white clouds glided across the sky in synchronized relaxation. The sounds of the local children drifted in and around the simple brick and mortar houses--shingled and painted a bright series of primaries and secondaries.

   To give Mother and Pappa some space, they hopped the white picket fence around their home to go play with the neighbouring couplets. The hours drifted by as they engaged in games involving cops, robbers, Indians, Sheriffs, monsters, aliens, and an assortment of conflicts only children could take with both a serious and passive attitude. The local family dogs would serve as the occasional trust steed or faithful pack mule, or even a grand, flying tank. If only they could play forever today, but alas the sound of metal upon metal began to beckon to them.

   Mother was on the porch and smacking the pot and ladle together. It was time to join Mother and Pappa for dinner and they had to leave the company of their friends. Their friends, too, left to partake in the evening ritual of the family dinner. They ran up the wooden stairs of the porch and through the front door. They leapt upon their chairs at the table and scooted in closer to the feast before them. Mother had glazed a turkey and made assorted sides such as gravy, potatoes, and corn. Their favourite glasses sat still upon the soft, blue coasters, filled to the brim with milk. Pappa told Mother all about what the newsman had to say about the weather, the government, and talks of Soviet espionage. Pappa had much to say about the man he called, "That hat b*****d", though they didn't pay much attention. They were far more concerned with finishing their corn and convening on the grass in the backyard for one final play session before bed.

   With their meals complete, they kissed Mother and Pappa goodbye and ran off to play once more. Mother and Pappa remained inside to finish their meals. Afterwards, Pappa retired to the living room once more and sat with his newspaper open while Mother ran the dishes through the sink. It was around the time that Pappa got to the Sports section that he first heard the giant rumbling in the distance. Mother asked him if the weather was supposed to call for thunderstorms this evening, but Pappa responded that it sounded nothing like a thunderstorm he'd ever heard. It was then that a blinding flash tore through the living room. Pappa sprang from his chair and flung open the front door. The sun was now blotted out for only a second beneath a great cloud before exploding in a giant column of fire. The wind blew stronger and stronger and Pappa raced back through the house towards the backyard.

   The wind tore through the buildings with a ferocity they had never endured before. Some buildings stood strong, but most collapsed entirely from the sheer force from the wave. Almost as quickly as it had happened, all was quiet again.

   The man in the nice suit stood before the crowd of wondering faces and flickering lights. clickclickflashwhir--a steady cacophony of mechanisms went off as he attempted to answer their questions. It had all been an accident. He launched into a monologue about trajectories, poor communication, and mismanagement of materials and instructions. None of it mattered in the end; there was no one left from the accident to apologize to. All they could do now was stand and face the public judgment and hope that this mistake was never repeated.

   And many miles away, nestled in the remains of a small village of brick and mortar, shingles and wood, dust settled upon the remains of a smooth, wooden banister.

Reviews

[Alexanne Dauntless]

It took me a few seconds to understand exactly what happened; I had to reread the last three paragraphs to be sure. But I really liked this. It is extremely well written. The vocabulary, the tone, the consistant narration.

There were only a couple of times where I stumbled over the chosen word; I am not quite sure why. "assortment", "assorted", and "convene", for some reason did not seem to quite fit; although I can't quite explain why. :)

Suffice it to say that I absolutely loved this, and it's refreshing to see something genuinely good for a change.