Skip to main content

Six Sentence Story: Trunk

I wasn't sure if I would get linked up for Six Sentence Stories this week; it seems like I've needed this week to get caught up on "real life" stuff after being gone for a while last week.  (Don't worry, Mom, everything is fine!) However, once I figured out what I could write about with the prompt, "Trunk," I only needed to compose six sentences.  So, with that mesmerizing introduction, here is my story:


The black trunk represented a new phase of her life, one of change. It held her colorful sweaters when she moved to Utah to attend college.  After she married, it kept her mementos of childhood safely tucked away.  She appreciated its reliability, but she also maintained a respect for its power.  Once, she had reached into its depths and its hardware had caught her skin.  Thirty-some years later, she still carries its mark--a thin white crescent-shaped line, just below the ring finger of her right hand.  

 photo visiting2_zps6d4521f3.jpg

 photo ThankfulThought4_zps7d9599c2.jpg
Thanks for storage!

 photo signature3_zps16be6bca.jpg


Pin It

Comments

  1. I have one of those on my hand, from reaching under the footboard of our iron bed.
    True story? I believe it is.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Nice story. It rings as a true story and yet, has that certain '…and yet' that lets the Reader feel that there is (possibly) more to the story.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. It is true, and rather boring--no "rest of the story." :-)

      Delete
  3. Oh, ouch! I don't remember hearing about this, but a injury bad enough to leave a scar, means that there was a bit of pain, or a lot of pain.

    (I wasn't worrying about you this week. I kind of suspected that you had some catching up on things at home and in your other responsibilities.)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I probably didn't tell you--it was painful, but akin to hitting one's head on a cupboard. I didn't realize at the time that it would scar.

      Yep, "other responsibilities" are keeping me busy this week, but that's OK.

      Delete
  4. Just a minor mishap can be remembered forever by a tiny scar. We all have one of those I guess....
    I think it's wonderful how 6 sentences can tell a complete story. Thanks for sharing.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. It is funny, isn't it? I probably wouldn't even remember this story if it weren't for the little scar.

      Delete
  5. The power of memories to bite back! I'm glad you made it!!!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. found this for you!

      eletelephony
      Once there was an elephant,
      Who tried to use the telephant-
      No! No! I mean an elephone
      Who tried to use the telephone-
      (Dear me! I am not certain quite
      That even now I've got it right.)

      Howe'er it was, he got his trunk
      Entangled in the telephunk;
      The more he tried to get it free,
      The louder buzzed the telephee-
      (I fear I'd better drop the song
      Of elephop and telphong!)


      Laura E. Richards

      Delete
    2. Oh, I was pretty sure I would pull through. . . OH, you mean you're glad I made it to the blog hop! Me, too! :-)

      And yes, that's the poem! (I actually have it committed to memory. My mom used to read it to me a lot, and I loved it every time!)

      Delete
  6. I like to think that faint scar now makes you smile remembering the journey it has made with you through life, from storing sweaters to keepsakes and a bit of your DNA as well! :-)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Ooh, I should have thought of that! It holds my DNA--ha!

      Delete
  7. It is wonderful to have a trunk of memories...and one that causes memories.

    ReplyDelete
  8. A good story especially for being so brief!

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Conversations are so much nicer when more than one person does the talking. :-) Please leave a comment and let me know your thoughts; I'd love to hear from you!

Popular posts from this blog

Ten Things of Thankful: Even in Times of Uncertainty

  A railroad switch point on the tracks at the Golden Spike National Historic Park There is a lot I don't know. I don't know who will lead the United States for the next four years (at the time I'm composing this post, that hasn't been determined yet.) I don't know when covid cases will stop rising in my state and start decreasing. I don't know how challenging situations will turn out. There is much uncertainty in life. Living in limbo-land is hard. It's emotionally exhausting. It can be immobilizing. My body seems to think chocolate is the answer, but I know that isn't a long-term solution. What do I need in times like these? I need to REMEMBER . 1. R esilience. People are resilient. I am resilient. I'm thankful for resilience. 2. " E ach Life That Touches Ours for Good." So many people, both those I know in "real life," and those I have only met virtually, have taught me, encouraged me, and been examples to me. I'm thankful

Ten Things of Thankful: Dad's Influence Edition

Infant-me, sitting on the wood floor, looks up at my dad, who is sitting on a brown sofa and smiling down to me Here in the United States, it is Father's Day weekend. I did not realize until recently that Father's Day was not officially made a holiday until 1972. 1972! Now, while I realize that many people consider 1972 eons ago, I do not. I'm glad that fathers have a day of recognition now, because they surely deserve acknowledgement.  I thought for this week's Ten Things of Thankful post, I would list ten lessons I'm thankful my dad taught me. My dad is a teacher. Not only did he impart his knowledge to countless junior high aged kids throughout his career, he taught--and still teaches--my siblings and me. He is not a preachy teacher; he's a humble man whose lessons I feel like I learned through osmosis. When he would get home from work, we'd all sit down as a family for supper. Often, our phone would ring, and on the other end of the line would be a paren

Ten Things of Thankful: Summer Strawberries and Procrastinated Projects

A brilliantly-colored dark pink and purple fuchsia blossom You would think that by the time a person reaches my age, she would not be surprised by the passing of time, yet I find myself nearly constantly amazed that a certain amount of time has passed--whether that be a week, month, year, or couple of decades. Earlier this year, I planted a garden. Yesterday I harvested my first strawberry. Earlier this year, I also planted fuchsia starts, and now the flowers are blooming. How is that possible? (And why am I surprised?) Sometime around the turn of the century (and it still seems strange to use that phrase about the year 2000), we bought a circa 1935 dresser. It needed some TLC, but had a cool curvy front. This past week, I finally got around to applying some Restor-A-Finish and Feed-N-Wax, and now the dresser still looks old, but not dilapidated. I still need to apply some hide glue to some loose pieces, but I'm counting progress as a win. For as long as I can remember, I've be