Your Story: Blue

· by · in Story Time. ·

Due to the positive feedback I received about my “Your Story” post, I’ve decided to start a series in which I post the photo and you write the story.  So put on your writing caps and tell me what does the photo below say to you? Please write a short story, or simply state your feelings, in the comment section.  I look forward to hearing your thoughts.

To get a better view, click on the photo.  To view more of my photos, please visit my galleries.  To see the previous version of Your Story, click here.

66 responses to “Your Story: Blue”

  2. I walked up to the little old man, hunched over a book sitting in a fold out law chair, in front of the building with the blue roof. It was the only beautiful thing in 25 miles. Since I wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, I thought I’d better see what this blue roof was all about.

    I stood in front of him for a few seconds before clearing my throat. “Eh hem, excuse me. Are you the.. uh.. owner of this place?” I asked the ancient being in front of me. Very slowly, he lifted his head and smiled, setting his book down on the grass beside him. “Well hi there, little lady. I wouldn’t say I own this place, no. But I could tell you about if you’d care for a tour?” He looked up at me with the most beautiful icy grey eyes I’d ever seen. Oh, what things have those eyes seen? I opened my mouth to speak, but found no words. The look on his face was one of pure joy, as if he had been praying for a visitor to offer a tour to his entire life. Like this was God’s purpose for him, and I was his his only customer.

    After an awkward amount of time, I just nodded and he beamed up at me and clapped his hands together once. “Oh good, good. Okay, please come with me. It truly is a fascinating building, part of the underground railroad, this was.” *

  3. I see this as being an old school house, having recently been renovated after hundreds of children have passed through the building and gone on to bigger and better things

  4. The elf and me..we lived under the blue roof.It was the spring time and we painted it freshly, Danced with neighbours, sang the happy song, did slide on the roof too. Then morning dawned, colors of trees turned black from green, so did grass and walls went pale..I looked around, my elf was gone. The main door closed..bolted the locked..sor sale was hung..i lost my home and family..Blue roof..you bring back my memories.

  5. When they told me that I’d won the Lottery, I asked if I could have it all in cash. They eventually agreed and told me that it was stashed in a secret hideaway… a clap board building with a blue roof….

  6. Oh this is a sad building where bad things happened! See the window, see the face the sad bad mad face. The roof is blue and cold, the walls white and frozen. Do you not feel this?

    Send for the children, the happy happy children. Let them bring flowers and paint. Let the paint be yellow for the walls and green for the roof. The children shall dance and sing and chase away the sad sad bad mad face and there will be joy! And peace and the face will be at rest.

    children

  9. It was never about money. It was never about reputation. Christina could still hear the ardent voices caroling songs of Jesus. Outside, Christina still felt the presence of the Lord. Though her views have changed over time, and her faith in Christ faded long ago, it was the memory that stretched a smile across her face and dropped a tear down her cheek. The high of passion still clung to her heart. The voices have faded from the abandoned church, but the music never left. It still rang out through the thin walls enough to urge her feet to dance again. But they don’t, and they never will, because despite her endearing faith when she had it, God never saw it in Him to cure her polio.

  12. It was always The Blue House. Mindy lived there for years. Probably for ever, because no one seemed to remember a time when Mean Old Mindy wasn’t poking her nose out of The Blue House to shout abuse at the world. As kids, we were all terrified of her.
    It was only after she died, we found out. At her funeral, the church was full to overflowing, everyone upset, grieving for loss of Mindy.
    ‘She took care of me when my Jack died.’ ‘She brought me food when I was out of work and had no money.’ ‘She looked after my baby when I was ill.’
    One by one, they told their stories of this outwardly grouchy old lady, whom everyone knew had a heart made of gold.
    When I bought the house, no one called it The Blue House anymore. It was ‘Mindy’s place’. That was OK for a while. But it isn’t Mindy’s now, it’s mine. So I decided to paint it. Needs another coat or too, but I reckon it won’t be Mindy’s place once it’s done.
    It’ll be The White House. My house.

    Thanks for the chance to write something on this. Fascinating idea. Well done. Would you mind if I pinched it occasionally? I promise to give you a credit. 😉

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  16. The faint blue shades on the old white building remind me of my father’s hands. My father was an auto body repair man and I remember as a child, sitting in church, he would put his arm around me and his hand would rest on my neck and shoulder. His rough, callused hands were constantly stained from grease and covered with over-spray from the paint shop. His tough, dirty, damaged hands were a symbol of hard work and prosperity, a constant reminder of his ability to provide for us and the sacrifices he made to do so.

  18. As she walked carefully over the dewy ground in her city clothes, she noticed just how bright and blue the roof of this building was. Not convinced she was in the right place, she sought information from the nearby house, which looked a bit more modern than the cute little building with a blue roof. When the lady at the nearby house told her that it was indeed the plot for sale, she continued her way back to the front door. But, before she could reach it, she was struck by the sight of an old man coming out of the front door, wearing a weathered look on his face. In one more step she took, her eyes darted to the blue roof, then back to the old man; and suddenly her mind flashed a picture she’d seen as a child. The picture was almost identical to the image now before her. And she could hear her mother’s voice in her head, saying “He’s a good man, Shirley; I don’t want you to hate your father for a few bad choices in life. I know he loves you.”

  20. This white and blue buildings reminds me of a church or a school house. The first needs a cross and the second needs children playing around. The first is for the spirit and the second is to prepare you for life.

    This is what is building means to me.

    Take care,

    Omar.-

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