I joined a writing group, and we do new prompts every Wednesday, so those will be some new upcoming posts. This past week's prompt was using the first sentence on page 5 of the nearest book. Mine came from Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children, which, by the way, is a wonderful book that is being adapted to film. Without further ado:
I stared at the last photo as Grandpa Portman explained.
“This is what we used to have to rely on for memories,” he said. “It’s only two-dimensional, and it doesn’t move.”
I cocked my head to the side, trying to figure out what was wrong with it. It wasn’t the stillness of the picture that rubbed me the wrong way; it was the subject itself. Something oddly familiar with it rubbed me the wrong way, like it was a vision from a dream or something I had seen once as a young kid. I blinked the thought from my head and tried to focus on what Grandpa was saying.
“…Such a classic form of art that’s lost on this new technology.”
“Yeah, I know, Grandpa. But new technology stuff is cool, too.”
“If you say so. Anyway, I want you to hang onto it.”
“But these are your memories.”
“Eh, my home is so cluttered with junk. It’ll be nice to get rid of some stuff. And I know you like old stuff, regardless of what you might say about all this new stuff.”
He smiled, that smile that made his crinkled brows fold over his eyelids. I grabbed the photo.
I stared at the photo once again after Grandpa Portman left. The sensation hit me again. I couldn’t place it, but something in the back of my mind tingled. I had this feeling of deja vu. But it was just a picture. My grandfather in his younger days lying in a field of grass.
It wasn’t until much later when it hit me.
I woke out of a dead sleep in the early hours of the morning. My pulse raced as I remembered. It was the same photo, the same field, the same pose. Only one thing had change. I was the subject of the photo. It was a recurring dream that I had that very night. A dream that startled me out of my deep slumber with only one thought that came screaming from my mouth.