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Weekly Contest #356
My dear Callum, I’m painfully aware we made an agreement to not speak anymore. But it is mid-to-late October, and I find it remarkably hard not to think about you when I watch the first specks of snow beginning to fall from my bedroom window. You know I get rather glum in the cold. And in watching the fragments of dry ice blowing in the wind, I find myself wondering. Was this agreement really mutual? Or did I agree to it so that it’d make our lives easier? Your life easier. Because when I think about it, I honestly don’t know if I could eve...
Weekly Contest #331
It felt incredibly nostalgic, watching the snow fall outside from the stone sill where I used to sit when I was younger, my favorite spot in my parents’ cottage. It sat right at the heart of the Catskills, a three-tiered castle with gabled roofs and mullioned windows, with curling ivy clinging to the stone walls like veins. My eyes fluttered closed, and for a second I swore I could hear the piano keys being pressed by my father’s fingers, the sound echoing throughout the endless halls. He’d been classically trained at a fairly young age—said...
Weekly Contest #322
I’d always found it quite strange—the phantom weight of my mother’s hand upon my neck, even when she was nowhere around. A tingling pressure, like invisible fingers in dire need of some ghostly suffocating. In fact, I don’t remember the last time I was allowed to make a decision. It’s as though they’re scared to let me make one all by myself. Like I can only imagine a parent does when deciding the appropriate time to let their kid play with a knife without parental supervision.I used to think it was sweet, endearing, genuine. Now I find it c...
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