This feature will die when the school year dies. Suggestions as to its replacement are being entertained.
An assignment from my feature writing class: Describe something from an early memory.
It still makes me nervous. A trip to any basement can moisten my armpits. My adult mind knows there are no monsters down there. But deep inside I remember my childhood home and the dimly lit place down the stairs.
The furnace was the worst. I was sure it was part fire breathing dragon and part octopus and could eat little boys for lunch. The grill resembled the dragonâ€™s mouth and you could see the red hot glow behind. It terrified me.
A careful creep around the hulking beast in search of a tool requested by my father was misery. The tool bench was actually behind the fire breathing dragon. If I made it safely past then I had to deal with the fact that the only light for the whole basement was a single, low wattage, naked bulb. Even more bad news was the fact that the bulb was switched on with a long string. It set the light to swinging which caused shadows to dance and inspire even more fear.
Standing there, I wished was any place else, even school or church. Just then was when the furnace would choose to start up with a horrifying noise that levitated me a foot in the air and squeezed a shrill squeak from my lungs.
The lonely light cast a pale glow over the tools but left the corners dark and gloomy. Spiders with bodies the size of golf balls lived there along with who knew what else?
I am sure that my father thought I was brain damaged. In my haste to get in and out of the basement without being devoured by the furnace I would blindly grab any tool that came to my hand and run for my life. What kind of imbecile canâ€™t tell a hammer from a screwdriver?
And so I was sent back into the dark.
The Rant D’Jour is about ingress.
The doors to the concert hall are opened to the public, the soundperson slaps on a AC/DC…more