Evergreen Summertime

A Vividly Mundane Memory

With a focus on detail and helping your reader enter into the scene, I want you all to write a tightly constructed scene (1 page or less) that describes a vivid memory. But this is the thing: you have to describe a scene that is not describing some monumental milestone or major moment in your life. Instead, it should be a seemingly mundane scene that, for some difficult to explain reason, sticks out in your memory. Try to capture the importance of the memory with your descriptive images.

Oncoming Storm

It was a rainy afternoon during summer vacation. It was just another Sunday, boring, yet somehow filled with exciting things such as staring at my laptop or my iPad Mini, reading or playing hidden object mystery games. Or maybe, that was the day that I decided to update a chapter on one of my uncontinued fanfictions I had published on Wattpad. But I assure you, it probably wasn't that day. The air was cool, yet humid, and a storm was oncoming. The sky, illuminated with a light blue color, was suddenly filled with grey clouds, almost black. The bright sun was no longer visible, and no shadows were cast on the ground below.

As first, it started out with a small sprinkle. Soon, the sky grew even darker as the rain pounded heavier and heavier on my house. From little pitter patters to humongous drum rolls, it all sounded like a song. Maybe I had tapped my foot to the beat of the rain, similar to the heartbeat of a dominus temporis. The music of the rain had drowned out the noise of my dad watching golf, and my mom talking on her phone. The thunder was loud and bold, crashing every so often. I could see light reflecting off the walls, due to the lightning strikes outside my window. I looked out the window, only to see more lightning bolts streaking the sky, illuminating the darkness with a quick yet breathtaking and bright sensation.

As soon as the oncoming storm had began, it soon passed and was over. The grey clouds were slowly going away, the rain slowing down until there was finally nothing, not even a sprinkle. I walked down each step, my fingers trembling as they trailed the wooden railings of my staircase. As I reached the front door, I hastily slipped on my flip-flops and opened the door. The humid, warm air hit me. I could smell the rain on the cement as I stepped out of my house.

I was so close to the black mailbox, that I could almost kiss it; but then suddenly, I remembered, looking remorsefully to the wet ground underneath me. No post on Sundays.