Microdosing Fiction - 100mg Coming Home
Write 100 words based on the word: COMING HOME
Our prompt for today is COMING HOME
Write a story in 100 words!
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The mirage of the village danced in the distance. There it was; a small house with a red door and a woman waiting in there, with my heart in her hands.
Those red doors pulled me through dirt and blood. I saw them every time the enemy got close, and I had to fight.
The vision of that little house—a place I called home before I got ripped away—carried me across a thousand miles.
My coming home caused people to whisper. But that didn’t matter; nothing mattered except those red doors.
I stood in front of them, and I knocked with a trembling hand. They flew open, knocking the breath out of me.
A man stood there, carrying a child. A voice, smooth as silk called out from the insides of that little house. “Honey? Who’s there?”
Dealer’s note: I cheated here a bit, the story is way over 100 words, but I really liked how it turned out. If you ever feel like the story is better with those extra words, feel free to overdose. Nobody’s really counting here :)
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If I could go home, I'd find my old treasures: Rocks, bugs, bird nests, magical natural detritus. I'd run to the kitchen and beg for wild mushrooms, fried in butter. I'd visit the scores of chickens and ducks, the goats and ponies, the cages full of rabbits, the adoring train of dogs and cats.
But there's no coming home, my "treasures" thrown away decades ago, the mushrooms picked out, the animals long dead. Even the old homestead's gone, replaced by an open field, without even a cellar hole to mark its passing. Home lives on in my heart and dreams.
He hadn't avoided the bar. The neon pulled at him, no different than a moth to the flame. He didn't wave the bottle away when the bartender offered a refill, the empty glass in his hand too unsettling.
But he had come home.
He hoped it would be a start.
And he hoped she'd be there to see it.