May 5, 2015 Prompt – A Childhood Piece of Clothing

Your Weekly Writing Prompt – from Writer’s Digest Brian Klems Weekly Prompts:
Childhood Piece of Clothing: You’re rummaging through an old tub of clothes from your childhood that your parents had stored away in their attic. As you search you find one particular piece that you remember as your favorite. When you hold it in your hands, you’re magically transported back to the moment you got that piece of clothing (birthday present, shopping with a parent, purchased with your own money, etc.). Write about that moment and how you felt when you received it.

My New Shirt – A true story

The first day of second grade Mom sent me to school in a brand new bright yellow shirt. At school I met my new teacher and, at recess, went out to play with my new friends.

The bell rang and I ran for the door. Don’t be late on the first day of school! Along the way I tripped over something and fell, crashing into a cement wall. I got up, my forehead torn and bleeding, but made it to class on time. The teacher walked up, cussed me out for bleeding all over her floor and sent me home.

When I got home the yellow shirt was now a dark red, soaked in blood. I walked through the front door, into the living room, and presented myself to my mother. I will never forget her words. “Oh my God Kevin. What did you do to your shirt?” She hustled me out the door and onto the front porch, so that I wouldn’t bleed on the carpet, and rescued the shirt off my back. The shirt was rushed to the bathroom, rinsed, and left to soak in cold water.

By Kevin Draper



There was always too much memorabilia in Granny’s house. “What will become of it when she dies?” Mildred asked herself.

Granny had such a large inherited house with the infamous spooky attic. Every room was brimming with sentimentality.

One afternoon, Mildred told her nine year old, “pack up your stuff, we are driving to Granny’s because she doesn’t answer her phone.”

She was met with a shock at the front door because the door was unlocked. Mildred could only push it open an inch with all the stacks of magazines and sentimental clutter.

“Granny, Granny,” she yelled, “are you there?”

Mildred knew the back porch would be more approachable. She ran to the back, on a narrow sidewalk that separated the close built houses from one another. The daylight was giving way to dusk. Mildred whipped out her flashlight as she approached the back steps. She saw something out of the corner of her eye. It was Granny’s little red apron. On instinct Mildred shined the light a little higher that lead to Granny’s lifeless face.

Years go by and all the memorabilia has been reduced to a computer memory stick of pictures.

Mildred was my mom and I was with her that night of granny’s shocking death. It was a defining moment for a nine year old. I kept the little red apron in a special little box. I open the box and it still has an odor that is reminiscent of Granny. I feel bitter sweet sensations shroud over me even after sixty years.

By Carol Christel-Taylor

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