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The Years Melted Away



They wanted me to go in, but I couldn’t. I tried, I really did, but as soon as I reached the stone steps leading up to the front door my whole body froze. I simply couldn’t move.

I could feel the sweat dripping down my face. The smells, the fear had come rushing back. It was as if the years had simple melted away.

I could see the dark wood panelled corridors, the high ceiling. I could hear their soft, demanding whispers, feel their podgy fingers probing.

I realised now why nobody else had come forward to support my story.

Mike Jackson

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

100-word story for this week’s Friday Fictioneers.

Categories: 100-Word Stories


A writer of short stories.

9 replies

  1. Great use of the images that trigger his tragic memories – the steps, the corridors, the high ceiling. I like how you finished – with all the others who also suffered, but couldn’t face those memories and fears. Sadly, it’s a story for our times, but at least some of the victims have been able to speak up.


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