Tag: Rite of Passage

• A Place That Was Ours Chapter Two. The Bridge

  I was staring down into the deep fissure formed by the banks where the town had met the river, long ago.  The water’s knife was blunted now, with neither fervour nor edge to cut its valley deeper, but the once-upon-a-time was easy to imagine… When coal mines prospered, the river’s shore was called ‘The Fellings’,…

  frederick anderson

  December 1, 2017

  Uncategorized

  bullying, childhood, depression, family, fiction, Friendship, growing up, humour, relationships, Rite of Passage, Serial, small town, society

• A Place That Was Ours

  “History,”  Jonna once said to me,  “Is all about Christmases.”    I might have raised an eyebrow at that, but he insisted.  “Think back on it, Chas.  Like, nineteen-eighty-one:  what do you remember about that year?”” “I got a bike.” “Aye, and when did you get it?” “Christmas.” “There y’are then!”  Said Jonna, his case proven.…

  frederick anderson

  November 21, 2017

  Uncategorized

  childhood, Christmas, Friendship, Gifts, growing up, home, marriage, memories, Northern Town, poverty, Rite of Passage, short story