So I think in an attempt to not work on my novel I have been going through old writings. I mean really old ones, the ones that live suspended in the place where I first really considered the writing life. I wrote this story below for a writing workshop at college and it has hung over my head ever since. I find it ever so often in a folder or something. I think it wants to fly and only she knows how it should have became something many years ago. I have never revised it though, bc I am just not sure if it is a novella or a poem or a short story or an essay. I know that the bones are good and timeless and could stand alone someday.
I thought I would share it. I am going to just dry read it after many years and not edit/ it will be rough as a random kid or music or doorbell might be in the background. If yr feeling blue it will probably make you laugh at some points. Ah youth.
Also- my garage band is down and I had to make an imovie for the sound- sorry bout the blank screen- but just close yr eyes. :)