Leftover Memories

It’s been a while but I’m still surprisingly writing. Thanks Mr. Durham. Below was a revised version of another short story that I wrote in college. Disregard the end.


*Starts right after the revised title “Leftover Memories”, removes the introduction quote and thought shot. Revised changes in perspective, background information, and ending creates a different story that emphasizes on the memories and focalization of my main protagonist.*

Leftover Memories

  Back in high school, I had a best friend named Greg. Although before I could even call Greg my best friend, he actually started off just as my neighbor. I had just graduated from junior high and my family and I had just coincidentally moved to another house after my dad’s job transferred him to another branch of the company, which they did quite often. The new house was part of a new expansion of a neighborhood, one that was close to the high school I would be attending, and was one of the few that was built so far in place of what was a now half-cut down forest. Moving was a normal thing to me back then and eventually I just accepted it into my life. I tried to keep in contact with some classmates (acquaintances) from the different places that I’d lived, but those hardly ever held up nor did I ever really stay long enough to find good friends. However, now that I was stepping up into high school, I thought that maybe that this would be the time in my life that I would make some real friends. And to my luck, it wasn’t long before I met Greg.

My new high school was a public school, just like the rest in the past, in which I had to take the bus there and back every day since I wasn’t old enough to drive one of my dad’s cars. To make matters worse, my house was at the top of the newly built expansion that wasn’t yet registered with the school board. So in result, every day I had to walk from my house, down a narrow street, and cut through a few lawns to finally reach the only registered bus stop on the other side of the neighborhood, by 7:30 am since there as only one registered bus stop. The first few days of school, were spent adjusting to new classes, teachers, the school structure, and of course the people. Lucky for my first week, I made it to the stop just in time for the bus to arrive. However, the following week, luck didn’t seem to be on my side.

Overwhelmed by all the new material I absorbed in the week before, I ended up sleeping in past my alarm and waking up with little time to get to the stop. I remember jumping through my front door, wind milling down the hill, and sprinting through the neighbor’s sprinklers to finally arrive to see the bus pulling out of the neighborhood. Shiiiit, I missed it! I remember dropping my backpack to the ground and buckling over, my hands on my knees, sucking in heaps of air to try and catch my breath. My eyes were closed and cast down at the concrete as a mixture of sweat and lawn water dripped down my head and into my eyes. After a few seconds, I reopened my eyes but instead of seeing droplets of liquid splattered on the concrete below me, I was actually staring at a pair of muddy, dark green hiking boots. In that moment several years ago, I remember blinking multiple times before lifting my gaze to see who the shoes belonged to. Upon doing so, I found myself making eye-contact with another guy with light brown eyes and short black hair. He was also sweating, the perspiration dripping down the side of his neck and soaking the neck of his striped black and white shirt. I didn’t say anything and I didn’t break contact until he reached down into his cargo shorts and pulled out a bottle of water.

“Looks like we both missed the bus, huh, are ya thirsty?” the boy asked as he held out the unopened bottle of water before me.

As I stood up and straightened my back to talk to him on an equal level, I noticed that we were the same height, and while he held the bottle out before me, I saw how much thinner he was in all aspects of his body.

Dazed, I replied, “Uh, yeah that would be cool.” The dryness in my throat catching my voice, making rise in pitch.

“Haha, nice voice crack, well since we already missed the bus to school and I don’t have work until later, do you want to hang out with me for a bit?”

Before I could reply, the boy began to walk through the lawn lead leading the way back up the hill towards the forest. We spent the rest of the missed school day discovering what was left of the forest that was behind my house. We climbed and explored through the grove of trees as well as scoured what was left of a dried up creek, finding small fossils of metamorphic rocks and other creatures. He later showed me a tree that had a trunk three times the width of my body, as well as branches like arms that reached out and tangled with other trees, making it difficult to sway in the wind. The perfect tree for a tree house. (End part 1 of revision)




If I continue off the current revision, the main character of the story would learn about the struggles that Greg is dealing with and attempt to help him by creating childhood memories that he never got experience when he was younger due to his and his mother’s condition. However, the story would begin to zone back into present time of reality because the main protagonist visits the tree house that they made behind it. Thus shifting the previous first person past tense to first person present as he replays the emotional and descriptive flashbacks of their memories together.

Now today, five years later, I find myself climbing up that makeshift wood-pegged ladder and stepping into a room filled with all those leftover memories still inside.  (End part 2 of revision)


Unfinished Business (cont.?)

“I don’t care for what you’ve done with the place…”I said under my breath.

I hope he didn’t hear me, I thought to myself as we continued to walk inside.

At the time, I was currently visiting an old friend of mine from elementary school. We’ll just call this friend Greg. And Greg at this time lived in a nice neighborhood with a three story house with the additional luxuries of money and maids that could satisfy almost his every need. However, despite his very fortunate lifestyle, my initial comment wasn’t directed at his actual house, but rather towards a small brown shack that was barely noticeable at the edge of the forest just behind it.

As I walked behind his house closing nearer towards the shack in the distance, I noticed the gloomy forest that surrounded it. Most of the trees’ leaves had fallen from their branches and landed onto the damp ground. I also saw a large amount of them accumulate on the top of what looked like his old pool. The pool had a moss green tarp covering it’s leftover contents inside, and lay filled with dried and dead brown leaves which seemed to create a muddy puddle on top of it. However, other brighter colors of fall began to mix into it as well with leaves of red, yellow, and orange. The mixture of leaves on the now closed pool made me think of how old memories can just be overwritten by newer ones. Thinking this, I simply stopped looking and continued walking.

After a couple minutes of silent walking, Greg and I arrived at a decent sized dark brown shack. Before any words could come out of my mouth, he opened the heavy wooden door in front of us and stepped inside. There was a quick flash of luminescent light that blinded me before being swallowed back up when the door slammed shut. This is already so different I thought as I touched my hand against the wet outside wall of the structure. Keeping my hand in place, my gaze lifted into the sky in search of nearby branches of surrounding trees. I fixated on some of the lower branches and found old, tired looking strands of rope tied against the trunk, hugging the tree as if refusing to let go. They must’ve been up there for so long, they should’ve worn away by now. I wonder if I could’ve just done th-

“Hey, you coming in or nah?”

His sudden beckoning snapped me to attention toward the rest of the world and halted my train of thought from the destination it was desperately going to.

“Yeah… I’m coming.”

I stopped in my tracks, turned my attention back to the dark wooden door, and pulled it open to what I wished was the inside I’d known. Unfortunately, the luminescent light from earlier, once again shined brightly into eyes, temporarily blinding me of the inside. Eventually stepping into the structure I saw the entirety of the inside, just as I was expecting. Two lamps stood in the back corners of the wood shack wired to an independent generator placed against the middle back wall of the room. On top of it was a mini flat screen television, with a miniature fridge next to it. Two summer time lawn chairs lay in the middle of the floor in front of the supposed screening area. To the sides of the room were boxes full of stuff I couldn’t distinguish, as well as an old couch that looked like it’s seen the rest of it’s original days. Sitting on that couch was Greg, on his phone. Then, he looked up at me as if he was expecting me to say something but I didn’t. I showed him my disinterest for the place.

“So what did you want to show me?”

His eyebrows furrowed and when he opened his mouth nothing came out.

“Hey, Greg, it was great to come over like old time but I gotta be somewhere soon so I should probably get going.”

I gave him a little wave and began to turn when he suddenly stood up and said

“What do you mean, what I wanted to show you? This, all of this. I wanted you to see all of this!”

I turned back around at him and looked him in his eyes, they began to fill with tears.







Second to my Previous

Hope you’re doing well! Don’t worry about me~

2016-07 -4:

Happy 4th of July guys! Sorry I couldn’t be there to watch the fireworks with you guys. I’m still at reception sadly, so I haven’t really done any physical activity other than marching. Fort Sill is okay I guess, Oklahoma is really hot and humid though. My feet are starting to blister from breaking in my new boots and walking/standing around so much. I presume you got my last letter already, so sorry if it worried you guys; I was just feeling a little isolated, it’s not that bad. So much is happening that I haven’t been able to know, so I feel a little out of the loop. I’m not sure when this is going to get to you, but I might have started basic training finally.

I’m supposed to leave reception this Thursday (two weeks ago), but luck was not on my side so I’ve been stuck here for another week (last Thursday). When I get to basic I’ll be able to get an actual address, so you can write letters/ send some stuff maybe. O hope you’re doing well. A lot can happen in 2 weeks. Things around here have been both uneventful and eventful. I haven’t done much since I finished all my tests and paper work. I have all my uniforms and stuff too, but I still my my hair. Again, sorry about my last letter, I probably made you worry; it’s not that bad, I promise. I’m trying to become a better person. Most of the people from last week left, so I’ve said my goodbyes to them last Thursday (two weeks ago) and I have a new group of people again. Most of the people are pretty loud and quite frankly borderline obnoxious. I’ve only wanted to stab a few people with my pen while I’m writing. I miss some of the people from last week (two weeks ago) and some people this week are okay I guess.

Okay, so it’s like 30 minutes to and hour later now because I just got in trouble for everyone else being dumb even though I told them explicitly what NOT to do. Technically it’s lights out right now but whatever. Everyone was supposed to change from our T-shirts to our uniform then back to our T-shirts and shorts but.. I wasn’t having any of that. So guess who hid in the laundry room until he was out of sight? Yup, me. We got yelled at for a while about everything but I think he had to leave because he couldn’t keep us up past lights out. Some people have done some stupid shit out of my barracks thought, such as: dragging one’s balls across some guy’s stuff and getting hit in the face, which made everyone in reception get in trouble by bothering a drill sergeant unnecessarily.. via 5 push-ups and running to our bay and back every 10 minutes for 2 hours, doing prison tats with pen and needle or whatever, idk how it works, and getting lectured on infections, and lastly for drinking an entire bottle of hand sanitizer and almost dying.

Yup, I’m surrounded by fucking morons. Anyways I’ll call if I ever have the chance. Basic training is like 9 weeks long, and I’m not sure how often I can make phone calls but I’ll make sure to send letters out every once in a while if I can’t call. I hope your lives have been as.. “interesting” as mine and you need to tell me about anything I’ve missed since as soon as you get the chance alright? Basic training is going to be tough for me, but I’ll do my best to make it through it and become a stronger person. I love you and I’ll talk to you soon™.                         Love, James

Two Weeks Late

Please share with all of my friends, thanks. It would be nice knowing that my friends are with me reading this in spirit~ 

Hey guys, I’m writing this because I’m sad. I started crying because I’m worried about all of you. I used to be the only one home since my brothers left and dads at work, so my mom is probably lonely too. I miss being able tot talk to you guys daily and see how you were doing. It hasn’t been long but I always worry, one of my flaws, I worry too much. But as I wipe my tears away, I wonder if while I’m gone you guys, my friends, will need me. If you needed someone to talk to and I wasn’t there, I would feel terrible. I wish I could have been closer to you and give you a hug. Speaking of hugs, I really wish I was close with someone here wit ha shoulder to lean on. An’d I’m in the same position, I worried about it. How stupid of me. I wish I had someone to talk to and say, ” Are you okay?” or ,” How are you doing?” Maybe because, in my entire life that’s all I ever wanted. So much of my life has been overshadowed by silence and sadness because I had no one  to talk to. And I’m back home again. And I’m worried __ happen to you too. I care too much about you to have let that happen, but I can’t be there right now. You don’t know how much better you life becomes with a simple game, talking about life or sharing dumb pictures in the middle of the night until you don’t have them. I really miss all of you, I’ll come back and make you guys proud, so stay strong with me. You guys aren’t here physically but we’ll get through this together! I love you.                                   ~James

I wrote this on the June 25th and sending this on the June 29th. The initial wave of worry is gone but I’ll always be worried about all of you.. and myself. I might go to basic training from reception next week. I’ll talk to you when I can. I love all of you.


Past Phone Call

Sorry its been so long, the want to write is there but the actual ability to do it is beyond me. I apologize to my club for never presenting anything, this is what held me up:

I was the nice one

I made choices that weren’t exactly done

So I was called that day

Hypnotized by a rattlesnake’s sway, finding my mind at bay, while my heart slowly sank away

Soothing yet confusing, the phone I hear ringing

I picked up the phone and I heard her breathing

So slow and calm like nothing was wrong

But it was wrong

It couldn’t be have been right

I couldn’t think so I ran away

“Why me.. why now?”

I regret and forgot, I let myself down

I believed she was gone

Someone for so long

But she was still there

And I.. was not

So I hung up.


Back in Time

Back in junior year during high school, I took a creative writing course to improve my hobby of writing as well as meet people who also strive for something meaningful in that class or for themselves. I remember writing a post in the middle of the night about a book I was completely absorbed in and couldn’t bring myself to sleep from how much excitement the book brought me. I remember the feelings I had at the time I was reading and when I was writing. My body was shaking from the pressure I put on myself to write a post that completely described the thrill I was going through. It’s strange how fictional books or anything unrealistic can bring so many emotions and thought out of a person, even when they understand that it isn’t real. I haven’t been posting on here for so long because whenever I got an idea, I told myself (mentally) that the post was a good idea but I wouldn’t be able to write it as well as I did with my other posts.. Basically that I could not reach my own standards. But now that the ideas are flowing and flooding my head, I must tell something. Something that these books, these views, these perspectives have done to me. I was just reading a thrilling and emotionally-intense book called Joyland  by a well-known author by the name of Stephen King. I’m only 16 pages into the book and a single line in the first paragraph has stopped me from reading just to write this. Devin Jones, in the voice of Stephen King, says,” I’m not sure anybody gets over their first love, and that still rankles.” This could be a theme right here. Something that could be applied to everyone but may not necessarily be true. I just needed to be able to relate to this because the person I first loved changed how I saw myself and helped me understand how much I can do for others. Lingering feelings that never went away. Distant memories that seem to be fading but stay close but hidden. A single characteristic that flashes me back to what it was first like to see it. I don’t know where I’m going with this anymore. I just wanted to share myself a little bit since it’s been such a long time. Thanks to one of my favorite authors and a constant inspiration from the people and books around me, I plan to keep sharing myself on here. And a thanks to not only my first love but every person who has associated themselves with me, for I believe that every encounter has added a new part to myself. Finally, thank you to my freshman year language arts teacher for always challenging me and encouraging me to try my best and look past what I want. I should have dedicated my book to him.