Photo Copyright:  J. Hardy Carroll

Here we are this week gathered near a building that’s being torn down. We’ve gathered to discuss our original stories for the week. This is the Friday Fictioneers group. Our hostess for the gathering is the talented and gracious author and artist, Rochelle Wisoff Fields. The challenge for each of us this week and every week is to write a story with no more than 100 words, not counting the title. It’s supposed to have a beginning, middle, end, and follow the picture prompt for the week. This week’s prompt was provided by J. Hardy Carroll. Thanks, J. Hardy.

To read the other stories by group members, just click on the link given below, then on the little blue frog in the blue box. The link for this week’s stories is as follows:

Genre: Memoir Fiction

Word Count: 99 Words


George remembers the old neighborhood.

“I was born above the grocery store owned by my parents. I sauntered the five blocks to and from school on weekdays and ran two blocks on Sunday afternoons to the park to play baseball with pals.

After homework, I assisted in the store. My parents never ate together as someone had to mind the downstairs counter. No doubt I’d take over and run things on my dad’s retirement.

But it wasn’t to be. My father retired when a contractor bought the property for a large office building and two square blocks became rubble.”


47 thoughts on “THE OLD NEIGHBORHOOD

    • Thanks, Sandra. I also remember we had a bread truck, a butter and egg man, and a milkman deliver to our house. It was great for my mother as she couldn’t drive. I’m glad you liked the story. 🙂 — Suzanne


    • Thanks, Linda. Yes, the cost is high. In the city where I was born a good many houses were bought up at an inexpensive price by the city to put in an expressway. One church had to close it’s school because many of its parishioners were forced to move. The expressway cut right through the old neighborhood. I’m glad you liked the story. —- Suzanne

      Liked by 1 person

  1. The story reminded me of when I worked for my step-aunt, as a teen, during the summer.
    It was a small dry goods store. Her husband had a record store right next to it. Thanks for the memory.
    It’s sad when things change so severely. The house I grew up in was torn down when I visited a few years back.
    A weird feeling came over me. Nicely done, Suzanne. ~~~ : – )
    Isadora 😎

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Thanks, Isadora. I’m glad you liked the story and it brought back happy memories. I check on a real estate site every so often to see if the house where I was born, in the front bedroom, is still there and it is with minor improvements added. I’m glad it’s well taken care of. 🙂 — Suzanne


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