I recently entered a flash writing competition. There wasn’t like a prize or anything. Spoiler Alert: I did not win.

My Take aways? 1. My mom told me I was special too much when I was a kid. I am more conpetitive and definitely have a very fragile ego. 

Anyway, here’s what I wrote. It was just a short story with a required Genre of Fantasy and had to include a balloon and an elevator inspector. Oh well.

When she saw the house listed, it was love at first sight.  Some people see an old home and only see the dollar signs that will ultimately come along with all of the needed repairs, but not Julie.  Julie looked up at the tall, narrow building and could almost feel the energy of the many families who had called this house their home during its over 100-year existence.  The history warmed her immediately and she knew it had to be hers, even if it meant years of renovations.  The non-working elevator was an added quirk of the home, uncommon for this neighborhood, but to Julie, it just added to the charm, even if it would be a glorified closet until years down the road. 

After several trips from the moving van that she had managed to drive across four states to pull up to her new front door, Julie sat on the one chair not stacked with boxes in her cozy living room and considered how she had gotten here.  Leaving Illinois was always the plan, but after losing Gramps, it just felt like it was time.  Now sitting in this brownstone in Philadelphia, home felt so far away, and yet, surrounded by all of her familiar belongings, this change wasn’t so scary after all. 

The elevator was like nothing that she had seen before, unless you count the old movies.  The elevator itself was a plain metal box with smooth edges. The box was encased in a beautiful cage that reminded Julie of an old fashioned bird cage, meant to sit in a sitting room on display like a work of art.  Even if it didn’t work, the aesthetic was gorgeous. Julie slid open the gated door to the elevator and walked in to try out the experience of turn-of-the-century engineering. 

The immediate feeling of nostalgia caused her to close her eyes and smile.  Then the smell of cotton candy and the feel of the sugary treat melting on her tongue overtook her senses and she found herself transported.  She looked down at the warm soft feeling of another hand in hers and she knew it was him, it was Gramps.  She smiled over at him as he gave her his most mischievous grin and led her through the gates into the carnival, just like when she was a child. Julie was stealing glances, trying to decide if this was real, but not knowing if she really cared to know. Gramps reminded her that it was his own adventure that led the family to settling alongside the Mississippi River two generations ago.  Gramps had been the first of his family to leave his parents behind in New Hampshire and he understood the exciting adventure that Julie was about to begin. He wanted her to know how proud she made him and to assure her that everything would be just fine.  

The two of them took a spin on the ferris wheel, played games no one ever wins and ate cotton candy. We walked toward the clown selling trinkets from a colorful booth and Gramps reached out to choose a bright yellow balloon for her and gently tied it around her wrist. The carnival was beginning to close down and Gramps reminded her that the elevator was likely to open again.  Julie had forgotten all about the elevator and was startled when she opened her eyes to find herself right back in the center of the antique, having not moved at all during what seemed like an entire evening of reminiscing and enjoying the carnival with Gramps.  

She took a deep breath and remembered the feel of his soft hand in hers.

The last time she felt his hand was when she had visited him for the holidays a few months ago, only weeks before he had passed.  She had crouched down on the floor next to his recliner and taken his hand in hers so she could gain as much of his attention as possible for her goodbye.  She knew this would likely be the last time that they would be speaking and she wanted to drink in everything about the experience.  For a man who had spent his lifetime toiling in the fields and caring for animals and crops, his hands had been enjoying the quiet retired life. His skin was now so soft against hers, but she knew how much life they had lived. 

Now, standing in the dark elevator, Julie took a step out into the hallway and felt an immediate shift into the here and now. She walked down the hall with a new feeling of both gratitude and grief as she headed out the front door and took a seat on the steps.  Walking toward her on the sidewalk was a man.  He was tall, thin and wearing the uniform of the local inspector’s office.  He stopped in front of Julie’s gate. 

“Hi, are you Julie? The new homeowner?”

“Yes, that would be me,” replied Julie. “May I ask how you know me, and what I can help you with?”

“I was sent by the realty company.  I am here to inspect the old elevator in the home. I heard you have a pretty spectacular antique that isn’t quite in working order these days and we need to ensure it is safe.  I would love to see if we can get that old thing operating again”

Julie looked back into the house where she saw the yellow balloon – the very balloon that Gramps had handed her at the Carnival – floating down the hallway. 

She smiled at the inspector and replied, “No thanks. I think I quite like the way it works just as it is.”

Here is a link to read the winning entry: https://www.foriowa.org/iowa-stories/iowa-story.php?namer=true&isid=242