Below is the challenge results for June 18, 2005. Challenge: Write a short story or poem about the following subject: Childhood Memories. This does not have to be about your life, or anyone you know. It can be factual or fictional. Written By: © Litha Sonner When I was a child Running wild & free My life wasn't filled Will happiness & glee I tried my hardest To think of a good memory But there were none At least not that I could see I remember harsh words And pulling of my hair Slaps across the face And the feeling no one cared I remember being beat I'd put my hands in the way I'd end up with bloody knuckles That would hurt all day She'd hit my lower back With a paddle she had made These are all memories I wish would just fade She did say she was sorry And that was a big step For years she blamed me For the memories I kept I waited so long for her To admit what she had done And when she did admit it The load seemed to be gone But the memories remain And they'll never go away Though I have forgiven her My memories will stay Written By: © Tita Scorpio Summer in New York City "Piragua! Piragua!" Summer has begun, Cherry flavored snowcones To cool us in the sun. No porches or balconies, To shade us from the heat. We sunbathed on fire escapes, Two flights above the street. No fancy pools to swim in; No wooded glens to roam - The children from the Lower East Side, Did not travel far from home. Sleeping on breezy roof tops, Splashing in the street, The fire hydrant sprinkling Water to beat the heat. Handball in vacant school yards; Stickball in the streets - These are my childhood memories, The bitter and the sweet. "Piragua!" sang the old dark man, As all the children neared - Cherry flavored snowcones A memory that endears. Written By: © Holly Custer Childhood memories of years gone by, Some make me happy, some make me cry. My mother, alone, raised us in love, With the help of the Heavenly Father above. She worked so very hard everyday Driving that school bus to receive her pay. She managed on the small income she had, somehow. With God's good grace, we never went without. A more loving mother you never could find. And God gave her to me that mother of mine. Written By: © GraveFlower -By Herself- She was all alone in the room with no window. Crying only to herself, what she was thinking no one knows. They called her crazy, maybe that is why she is here Even though she thought different, this was her greatest fear. She often pushed them away, but never wanted to be this alone. She will never get out of this place, until they believe her mind is her own. They don't understand, she didn't cause this just by herself. They just weren't listening when she called out for help. All the family that she knew was no longer there. Not a phone call or a letter, did they really care? Back in her own room is where she wanted to be. At least there was a window where she could feel free. Written By: © T.M. Park Childhood Memories (poem) Childhood memories I?ve had a few Some good Some bad Some fairly new Big ones Small ones Wet ones Dry ones Ones full of laughter Ones full of tears Ones that last a lifetime Ones that fade due to fear Yes, childhood memories I've had a few Some worth remembering Some not worth their due. Written By: © T.M. Park Childhood Memories (story) She sat at the dining table looking over the photo albums of years gone by. She hadn?t ventured into them in recent years as life was just way to busy to reminisce about her younger years. What brought these albums to mind once more? She was looking for her favorite picture of him from their courtship days many years ago. It was the photo of him on prom night as he asked her father for her hand in marriage, shocking her and her mother in the process. That was the moment she knew he was the only man for her and she was the only woman for him. It was hard to believe after nearly forty years of marriage that she was burying him the next morning. She looked up from the albums and out through the window into their backyard as she remembered that moment so vividly, the tears flowing down her cheeks then and now, interrupted by the sound of her youngest son?s voice. "Mom, are you okay?" he asked as he put a hand on her shoulder. She sighed softly before managing a smile and holding up the photo from that night and said to him, "I?m find, son. Just reminiscing." © Kimberly Ann She had made spaghetti I ate all her bread and butter She said Grampa's on the road I asked do we sleep in the living room tonight She said of coarse We pulled out the box from under the coach We played paper dolls an ate ice cream. She slept on the couch I slept on the floor I loved staying at Gramma's © Genta Better off forgotten Shannon sat in the rocking chair and glanced down at Alexis. She was only a month old. He already thought of her as daddy’s little girl. He would be the one that would be there for her. He instantly knew he had to step up. He knew that he more importantly had to grow up. Shannon remembered his childhood. He had a good one no question. He sighed as he thought of the mischievous things he did. He laughed at all the birthdays and vacations he remembered. Shannon was very excited. He noticed Coryn as she walked into the room. She knew that this was a good thing. Coryn was weary of being a mother. She did not have the best mother. Coryn was not neglected just barely taken care of. She was unsure if she could over come the half up bringing to raise Alexis Breanna. Coryn went to self- help groups. She talked with Shannon. He gave her so much encouragement and faith. She prayed and left all her issues and short comings. Shannon stood up and motioned for Coryn to sit. He was proud that she was opening up to the idea of breastfeeding. She believed in herself. She had placed her childhood memories behind her. She was going to be there for Alexis. She would be more active than her mother could have ever been. Some childhood memories are better off forgotten. Return to the Writing Challenges Main Page The entire contents of this site is copyrighted. Please do not use it without prior permission from the owner or author.