I'm the head of the household at the Dimwits. I forgot that I to start the new blog chain today!! Ugh.
I hope you enjoyed the holidays. I sure did!
My topic (which is one of my favorite writing exercises):
Imagine the home(s) where you grew up, and start drawing a floor plan. As you draw, memories will surface. Grab onto one of those memories and tell us a story.
At five, my bedroom was in the basement of a 3,500 square foot ranch home. I miss that house. I shared my room with my older brother, Joey. Built in the mid-1970's, the finished basement featured flooring of brown carpet, red faux-brick wallpaper, and a wall covering that resembled corkboard.
One night, Joey stayed over at a friend's house and I was left to sleep alone in our room. I have never done so before. I was scared shitless.
I knew monsters of all kinds lived throughout the basement, but my brother always kept them at bay with his nasty smelling farts. This particular night was hot and I was burning to death in my red TMNT footy pajamas. I was most afraid the man living behind the corkboard would come and get me.
Deep in the night, I awoke to a noise. A cold sweat oozed across my body and my feet cold not breathe. Suddenly, I realized my eyes were crusted over and I could not open them. I started scraping at them, but it hurt, so I stopped. Then it hit me: the man from behind the corkboard had fused my eyes shut using the broken bits of cork that covered the floor (I knew I should have vacuumed those up!)
I did not scream and I could not cry because of the crust covering my eyes. I pulled the sheet over my head and held my breath as I listened for the man from behind the corkboard. At some point, I fell asleep and woke up to daylight some hours later. My eyes opened like normal, but I felt remnants of the crust around my eyes and on my cheeks.
The very first thing I did was grab the Oreck and vacuum the heck out of the floor where the cork pieces lived. Every time I get a cold or have allergies, I relive my fear of the man from behind the corkboard.
Tomorrow, check out Michelle McLean's blog to see which memory she shares!
Oh my gosh! How terrifying for your little self! But funny for us to read, now :) I'll be on the look out for those cork pieces ...
ReplyDeleteHow vivid,J!
ReplyDeleteThe man behind the cork board needs to get his ass kicked. LOL. You could definitely write a slasher!
And--great to see you back online. If only for a moment. TPR is at 8am this week.
Great story, and you remember so much about the experience. This will be fun to do, Jon.
ReplyDeleteGreat story, and you remember so much about the experience. This will be fun to do, Jon.
ReplyDeleteAwww, poor little guy in his red footie jammies! Well told story, Jon! Very descriptive.
ReplyDeleteMy sister had a corkboard wall, too. Mine was covered in Duran Duran posters. :)
Hah! This is so awesome. What a fun story, Jon.
ReplyDeleteThanks folks! I really love doing this exercise and the stories I find with it.
ReplyDeleteAh! Love that. This will be a great little exercise. Thanks
ReplyDeleteI think my little brother had those same pjs! Fun exercise, Jon!
ReplyDeleteAw, great story. My son had his eyes crusted up from a cold a few months ago and he woke up crying out in the most pitiful voice, "Mommy, I can't see!"
ReplyDeleteAwesome story. Love the topic.
ReplyDeleteWow! Even though you were first, I read this one last (go figure). It's the only one I read that was spooky! Well done. :) And thanks for picking such a fun topic.
ReplyDeleteI love this story and your description. Your brother's farts keeping monsters at bay cracked me up. Well done!!
ReplyDelete