avatarJF Danskin

Summary

The author recounts a childhood visit to their father's childhood farm on the Orkney Islands, where a piece of peat carried home in the car's glovebox becomes a sensory memory that fades over time.

Abstract

In "Fragments of Family," the author reflects on a brief and somewhat strained family visit to a farm in the Orkney Islands, where their father grew up. The six-year-old author initially struggles to connect with second cousins and notices the adults returning to their fieldwork, including cutting peat. One of the workers gives the child a piece of peat, which emits a rich aroma that slowly dissipates as it disintegrates over time. This 100-word flash fiction piece is a poignant vignette capturing the fleeting nature of sensory experiences and the bittersweet essence of memory and family ties.

Opinions

  • The author suggests that the visit was not entirely comfortable, describing the conversation as "stilted, awkward."
  • The act of receiving and later losing the peat's scent symbolizes the ephemeral nature of experiences and memories.
  • The author implies a sense of detachment or disconnection from the family's rural heritage, as they do not return to the farm.
  • The inclusion of a link to more fiction and poetry, as well as articles on creativity and author skills, indicates the author's pride in their work and a desire to share it with readers.
  • The invitation to subscribe to the author's posts implies a value placed on reader engagement and a commitment to providing content directly to interested readers.

Fiction

Fragments of Family

The Orkney Islands. Photo by Maxwell Andrews on Unsplash

Aged six, I visited the farm where my father grew up.

The living-room conversation was stilted, awkward, and I soon squabbled with my second cousins from the islands.

By the time we left, most of our hosts had already gone back to work around the fields. Some of the men were cutting peat as we walked outside. One handed us a piece the size of a brick, which we put in the car’s glovebox.

I remember its rich, delicious smell, which faded as it was gradually vibrated into fragments over the following months.

We did not return.

Thanks for reading this 100-word ‘drabble’ flash fiction!

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Fiction
Flash Fiction
Drabble
Travel
Mercury Press
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