I remember the darkness, the glitter of frost and carnivore eyes from depth of the woods. I remember how much the old apple tree’s branches resembled skeletal hands trying to catch me while running, I remember my desperate rush from the warmth of the house to the outhouse and how much I dreaded my needs before bedtime.
Now I sit in my comfort looking at darkness outside, missing my monsters. I miss being the hero of doing my doings while being alive. I miss the thrill of survival as if my shitting in comfort is being in part already dying.
Joining very late with some reflection of my childhood memories of going to the outhouse.
Friday Fictioneers is all about trying to find a story in an image and present this in 100 words. Rochelle hosts and set the example. Try it, it’s fun.
—
December 2, 2017
Björn Rudbergs writings 
That was an interesting one. Maybe you should try out for that show Survivor. Would love your thoughts on my new short called The Writers Block. Hope to see you there
This brought back a lot of childhood imaginings. The places that our mind can take us when we are young. We are much more connected to the earth then, of course. It is sad that we seem to lose that connection – and everything that it stirs within us – with age and comfort … for it is a loss.
That had to be really fun in the winter. My hubby tells of similar adventures in North Dakota.
Great atmosphere, Bjorn
This is AWESOME.
I especially like “carnivore eyes.”
Dear Björn,
All things considered, I’ll take creature comfort. 😉 Vivid and well written.
Shalom,
Rochelle
What a brilliant story. You might be a little later than some of us to post this week, but that was worth waiting for!!
Susan A Eames at
Travel, Fiction and Photos
I used to be scared of this black rain coat wearing psychopath called TheeThee. This reminded me of him 🙂
A nice share.
Never knew a run to the loo could involve such daring-do.
This is really clever, Bjorn.
An outside toilet holds all sorts of terrors – spiders in the corner were mine!
As a very small child, living on a farm. I remember one day, there was a snake in the outhouse. Mother never made us go there again. I think she placed a little porcelain potty under the bed?
You were late this week, but that was worth waiting for, Bjorn.
Yes, one certainly feels more alive when exposed to the elements and external dangers both real and imagined. I especially liked the last line…very thought provoking.
I’m alway’s late to Rochelle’s party: detoutetderien2015.wordpress.com/2017/12/03/tattered/
missing my monsters Oh! Lovely. So I’m wondering if the subject is dying? already dead? or wishing they were? Perhaps I’m way off base. No matter. I loved where the prompt took you.
I think I miss that sense of being scared of simple things…
Definitely an adventure using this out-house…I can imagine the adrenaline rush! 🙂 🙂
Bjorn, You have captured that essence of what we lose when we move from the glories, stories and monsters of childhood.
Loved this. The longing for the mystery and adventures of youth even if they were created by yourself was palatable.
Haha. I used an outhouse for several years. Dung a few as well.
And almost stepped on a cobra running to one in the night last summer.
But yes, out creature comforts do house break us a bit,
and seem a lot less brave.
if anything, we can outgrow our fears or die trying.
Quite thought-provoking at the end. I don’t think I’d miss running to the outhouse in the freezing cold, though!
Well, that’s my childhood ruined!
I have to agree with Sandra. So worth the wait. I can totally understand why the outhouse was so far from the house… but man…
You’ve written a fascinating and thought provoking story. You lament the replacement of the irrational terrors of childhood with the complacent comfort of maturity. You’ve written it persuasively. But when I started to think about it, I realised that actually the experience of irrational terrors as an adult is horrid. I suffered for several months from an anxiety disorder. The main symptom was feeling terrified – not of anything in particular, just generally terrified. It was extremely unpleasant and almost disabling. Fortunately it responded to treatment, and I no longer suffer from it.
So 10/10 for the persuasive writing; less sure about your content! It was a good piece, Bjorn, and I’m glad you wrote it.
Oh I can understand that… I’m so full of rational fear these days so I just thought of that fear which dissipates when you’re safe inside…
Super philosophical story Bjorn. This piece could relate to so many aspects of life. I love that the terror of childhood created excitement and satisfaction of outwitting/surviving them and now as a staid adult, no longer with terrors that make life tingle with excitement – you may well be dying. Loved it.
Dear Bjorn, I love modern toilets and would rather not use an outdoor one again – but – hey – When you gotta go – you gotta go.
Good memoir, Bjorn. Great descriptions and writing. 🙂 — Suzanne
Oh, I love this Bjorn. This is one of my favourite pieces of your writing I’ve read. So clear and atmpsoheric and evocative. And that switch to the present. mournign the lost monsters, identifying their existence as adding something enriching to the narrator’s life. Adore it
one word: weird.
Interesting reflections…but I get it!
You summed it up nicely.