Friday Fictioneers – Home

Thank you Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for continuing to set this 100 word or less challenge. It is certainly a commitment appreciated by many. Other 100 word stories can be read here.

Photo by Roger Bultot

Photo by Roger Bultot

How wonderful. How old are these photos?

Late 1800s, something like that.

Amazing, and precious. I wish I had that kind of past connection. Something as tangible.

Yeah, it is special.

Do you see a family resemblance?

Definitely. I’ve always seen my dad in the older lady. My four times great grandma. She had like 12 kids, who all lived. There are so many cousins. You can’t turn a corner in my hometown without meeting a relation.

You’ve a tribe. Awesome. We’ve never had that. Immigrants.

Sounds lonely. Sad.

It can be. We’re a community of six. [97 words]

I have to admit that I wrote this based on the other photos Rochelle had in her post. By mistake, so perhaps the story doesn’t make sense in relation to the actual prompt. Hope you enjoyed it anyway. 

grandmothers-weinberg-finis

Photo by Rochelle

24 thoughts on “Friday Fictioneers – Home

  1. My family used to be kind of a ‘tribe’ and I found it the poor horror. The story is perfect, and, as was pointed out before, there are old photographs in the prompt.

    Like

  2. That line: you’re a tribe ….. it really pivots the story, IS the story, the ending, a foregone conclusion.
    This piece though, also goes beyond that, because it echoes about how even those in communities, can sometimes feel lost, alone too. At least, that’s the lingering impression I walked away with.
    Simple and effective – great story.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. I enjoyed it very much. As someone who did not grow up in one place, but in many, I always felt a bit outside that tight circle of people who are all related to someone else in the school, the town.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Dear Trish,

    To be fair, I forgot to insert the prompt when I posted. The first few contributors worked with what they had. 😉 I enjoyed your story. The young woman standing was my maternal grandmother and she was an immigrant from Poland.

    Shalom,

    Rochelle

    Liked by 1 person

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