Status: This is a two-part original short story fiction. Any resemblance to either true events or another person's story is honestly just a coincidence. I wrote a draft of this when I was in bored in class one day and decided to finalize it. I have no intentions of copying anyone's story.
Memory Lane
Part One
“Are you ready to eat, dear?" my significant other calls out from the top of the basement staircase. I shift in my seat, which is but only a sturdy crate, my voice projecting towards the doorway, where he currently awaits my answer, as I say, “Just give me about twenty minutes."
“Alright." With that, I hear the sound of my husband's return to the kitchen, the door shutting behind his departing figure.
Twisting back around, I hunch over the dusty box of old family VHS tapes that I acquired after my mother, at the golden age of seventy-two, passed away. I have been cleaning the basement, per the request of my husband, to clear out some of the much unneeded objects collecting down here over the years.
When we decided to move in with one another, my mother suggested that the two of us live in the same house where I was raised. She was living elsewhere with her second husband, a step-father to me, but kept the old house since it had been paid off.
It was a considerate gesture that we, with much gratitude, accepted. We pretty much kept the furniture and decor as it was, only storing some of the family photographs in the basement, where many of younger sister's and my childhood bits and bobs were. That was about twenty years ago, and over the years, the two of us haven't had much time to go through the assortment of treasures that live down here. However, yesterday my husband and I were talking about it and he mentioned that I should scope it out and get rid of the things that weren't entirely needed.
That is how I ended up here, covered in dust and less than halfway done. I look at the side of the box, which reads “Ellie's Tapes". Ellie is my younger sister. As a child, she lived to film anything and everything. After she received her first video camera on her eighth birthday, she quickly learned how to operate it, much to my annoyance, and filmed just about every waking moment of not only her life, but mine as well. From report cards to both of our senior year graduations, Ellie captured it all, both the good and the bad.
I scout the box, reading the title of each tape before stacking it off to the side. This pattern of pick up, read, then stack continues for a minute or two before I come across a tape with a date written under the title.
A's Confession
09/17/86
1986. I was a sophomore in high school at that time. I I also came out to my parents that year as well. I remember part of that day, up until moments after I said I was gay. Nothing else comes to mind after that moment except the beginning of senior year, and by that point, I only know that my father had left the family. I never actually found out why he left, as both my mom and sister avoided the topic.
Curiosity revolving the aftermath of my coming out is a moving force and drives me watch the tape on th TV/VCR combo a few feet away. After I make sure that everything is plugged in correctly, I turn the machine on and slide the tape into the slot.
“Alright." With that, I hear the sound of my husband's return to the kitchen, the door shutting behind his departing figure.
Twisting back around, I hunch over the dusty box of old family VHS tapes that I acquired after my mother, at the golden age of seventy-two, passed away. I have been cleaning the basement, per the request of my husband, to clear out some of the much unneeded objects collecting down here over the years.
When we decided to move in with one another, my mother suggested that the two of us live in the same house where I was raised. She was living elsewhere with her second husband, a step-father to me, but kept the old house since it had been paid off.
It was a considerate gesture that we, with much gratitude, accepted. We pretty much kept the furniture and decor as it was, only storing some of the family photographs in the basement, where many of younger sister's and my childhood bits and bobs were. That was about twenty years ago, and over the years, the two of us haven't had much time to go through the assortment of treasures that live down here. However, yesterday my husband and I were talking about it and he mentioned that I should scope it out and get rid of the things that weren't entirely needed.
That is how I ended up here, covered in dust and less than halfway done. I look at the side of the box, which reads “Ellie's Tapes". Ellie is my younger sister. As a child, she lived to film anything and everything. After she received her first video camera on her eighth birthday, she quickly learned how to operate it, much to my annoyance, and filmed just about every waking moment of not only her life, but mine as well. From report cards to both of our senior year graduations, Ellie captured it all, both the good and the bad.
I scout the box, reading the title of each tape before stacking it off to the side. This pattern of pick up, read, then stack continues for a minute or two before I come across a tape with a date written under the title.
A's Confession
09/17/86
1986. I was a sophomore in high school at that time. I I also came out to my parents that year as well. I remember part of that day, up until moments after I said I was gay. Nothing else comes to mind after that moment except the beginning of senior year, and by that point, I only know that my father had left the family. I never actually found out why he left, as both my mom and sister avoided the topic.
Curiosity revolving the aftermath of my coming out is a moving force and drives me watch the tape on th TV/VCR combo a few feet away. After I make sure that everything is plugged in correctly, I turn the machine on and slide the tape into the slot.