The Tree We Climbed As Children. For Friday Fictioneers.

PHOTO PROMPT Copyright-Madison Woods

PHOTO PROMPT Copyright-Madison Woods



Alice White © 2014

Genre: Fiction

Word Count: 100

“Is this the right one? Where is our treehouse, Jen?” My brother, Jimmy, glared at the gnarled oak. “Has it been so long?”

“I’m afraid so. I suppose it rotted after twenty years.” I squinted against sunlight, and remembered building that treehouse.

We were meticulous in our design. Reclaimed wood made up the walls and floor, and a longhorn skull adorned the privacy partition, erected for secluded reading. We’d hung our own drawings up, but I guessed the pictures had long since disintegrated.

I peered up. What was that?

The longhorn skull. The only remnant of a happy childhood playground.

17 thoughts on “The Tree We Climbed As Children. For Friday Fictioneers.

  1. Alice, Good and well-written story. I never had a tree house or a friend with one, but it sounds like fun. My dad set up an old camping tent for me to play in once and I used to make blanket tents. Well done. 🙂 —Susan


  2. Dear Alice, Good story that brings back fond memories to me! We had several tree houses over the years. Mrs. Campbell (who lived down the street) let us 6 neighborhood girls use it exclusively. If the boys were up there and we wanted to play, she would ask them, politely, to exit and come back later. They did begrudgingly. It was grand, we had a winch to pull heavy stuff up and a couple of chairs, a curtain. Fun, fun, fun! Thanks! Nan 🙂


  3. I remember building tree houses. One of the old trees is still alive near Mom & Dad’s house. You still see the scars where I nailed boards across a couple of limbs to make a platform. Ah, those were the days . . . .

    Liked by 1 person

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