Prompt
Think back to when you were very young. Try to recall one of your first fears. A shadow on the wall, a ghost in the closet, a person, a scene from a movie or book. Write about that fear. Try to remember the feeling it gave you, what that fear would make you do and how you were comforted. Write a real life story or a piece of fiction. Wherever the prompt takes you. Keep your post on the short side: up to 500 words OR a 5 minute stream of consciousness exercise. Link your finished piece to the list and begin popping by the other links. Oh, and enjoy!

When I was Young…

I’ve always loved books. I still have some favourite books from my childhood, such as the little known but utterly adored by me Why Grooleys Wear Earmuffs by Torr Makuch and Richard Scarry’s extremely awesome Storybook Dictionary.

I never really been someone who jumps at shadows, even as a child, but I do remember one book that always gave me chills. It was a Little Golden Book edition of Little Red Riding Hood.

It wasn’t so much the story as the illustrations that frightened me. They all seemed so dark and sinister – deep rich reds, dark browns and blacks – even now the memories of the illustrations still carry a kind of threatening sense of something emerging from the shadows.

I remember as a child that part of the fear came from the unexpectedness of it all. Golden Books were generally a source of delight. The Color Kittens, Tootle, Scruffy the Tug Boat, The Poky Little Puppy, The Tawny Scrawny Lion and, of course, The Monster at the End of the Book were all favourites, read over and over until the words could be recited. It seemed a betrayal, somehow, that Little Red Riding Hood was found amidst these books that I read and re-read with such pleasure.

I can’t remember if I ever told my mother that I disliked the story, which seems odd when I think about the strong impression that the book made on me. Perhaps I was embarrassed to admit that a Little Golden Book left me feeling like I should hide under the covers.

What monsters lurked under your bed as a child?

If you would like to join in the Write on Wednesday’s writing prompt meme, you can find all the details here.

I missed last week’s Write on Wednesday exercise, but I’m back on board this week. Write on Wednesday is hosted by Gill at Ink Paper Pen. This week, the challenge is to write for five minute using the prompt ‘I remember’.

Co-incidentally, I posted last night at my blog Living Upside Down about things I remember about myself and my personality. I wrote that I remember feeling so well defined in the past and now I feel all soft-focus and fuzzy around the edges. I think I’ll make today’s W.O.W. exercise a little less emotional.

I remember… junior high school

My memories of high school fit together like a patchwork quilt sewn by an enthusiastic but not particularly skilled amateur. Some memories overlap, some are a little lop-sided, small snapshot images are fitted in between larger more significant memories.

I remember the teachers. Mr M with his booming voice. Mr D with his strange hissing laugh. I remember that you could tell which season it was by looking at Mr F’s face – beard in winter, clean shaven in summer, moustache in autumn and spring.

I remember the day that we heard the news about the explosion at the Chernobyl nuclear reactor. Not that we knew that it was an explosion at first. I remember one of the girls in my music class was almost hysterical because she thought the Russians and Americans had started a nuclear war and we were all going to die. She was frantic and in tears all day.

I remember that short, electric-pleated sports skirts are not suited to girls with fuller figures. I hated that skirt. I remember having gymnastics classes for sport and despising the vaulting box/table. As if I had any hope of clearing that monstrous box without doing myself injury.

I remember writing a book with two friends: When Love Misfeeds: A Thrills and Swoon romance. The central character was the new library photocopier, which was a thing of wonder and amazement back in those days. We named it Charlie.

I remember walking along corridors being heckled by a group of boys who had nothing better to do than try to intimidate and ridicule others. I remember making myself stand tall and not cry even though I felt so horribly embarrassed. Maybe if I’d shown any sign of weakness they wouldn’t have harassed me for so long.  The many times they targeted me are still etched in my mind. I wonder if they remember those moments at all.

I remember huge apple turnovers at the school tuckshop oozing with cream and dusted with icing sugar. I remember when we could buy food from the tuckshop without worrying about childhood obesity, nut allergies, gluten intolerance or political correctness (remember Fags and Redskin lollies?).

I remember essay tasks given by my commerce teacher as punishments – a page about what it would be like to be a doorknob or a tube of toothpaste or a car door.

I remember wearing a tie for four years, summer and winter. I remember that if you didn’t wear your tie, the principal loaned you one of his for the day. They were from the 70s – wide, colourful, ugly, embarrassing.

I remember paper reinforcements stuck in my long, long ponytail thanks to the girl who sat behind me in class. I remember great big glasses and, for a while, a fringe that looked like a cockatoo crest.

I remember friendship and laughter and tears and loneliness. I remember lessons learned, both in the classroom and the playground.

What snapshot memories do you have of high school?