In the childhood sanctuary of our family’s yard stood a pole, a singular beacon that held our wonder and reflections. It was not simply a wooden stick, but a living artifact, dressed by our father’s restless hands in symbols and colors that marked the turning of the seasons.
During the joyful emergence of spring, he would crown it with a nest, celebrating new beginnings and the endless cycle of life. When summer arrived, blazing with freedom and warmth, he would let a flag dance in the wind, a symbol of pride and liberation. As autumn leaves began their graceful descent, he adorned the pole with a playful skeleton, a nod to the changing times. And in winter’s embrace, the pole wore a scarf and hat, offering a semblance of warmth against the chill.
Yet, as the years passed, something began to change. The vibrant expressions of love and creativity waned, replaced by signs of a spirit grown tired and forlorn. What once was golden and lively became tarnished and dim. A rusted chain, a broken heart: the pole became a stark symbol of something lost, a reflection of a soul burdened with age and sorrow.
The day came when our father’s earthly journey reached its end, his mortal essence released into the unknown. We were left with memories and the pole, now standing silent and somber in the yard, a testament to the dreams, hopes, and fears that had shaped our lives together.
It remains there, weathered and worn, yet still holding the memory of love and connection. A bolt of golden light, once bright and blazing, now a touchstone to the past, a symbol of what once was. In its humble form, it tells a story of family and time’s embrace, of golden woods and shadows, a dance to life’s fallen serenades.
Story Notes: This flash fiction piece was an experiment where I attempted to turn a song into a story. I took “Sticks” by George Saunders and asked ChatGPT-4 to reimagine the story based on lyrics from “A Bolt of Blazing Gold” by Dark Tranquillity. I think it turned out beautifully.
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