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ghost town

i tried to tell about the night... and i could not tell it; as i cannot tell it now.

i know i’m bound to lose / when i feel the need to use why i’m full
-wallows, i’m full

Message to Readers

thank you so, so much to everyone who reviewed this piece. your feedback, thoughts, and support have been extremely helpful and encouraging. the first competition I ever entered on WtW was flash fiction in 2016. so much has changed in my life since then, and I get the feeling that something has gone full circle. this story-- the story of being caught between ground and sky, earth and heaven, sanity and madness-- has been turning in my mind for a long time now, and I'm glad I get to share it with you. thank you for reading, and liking, and commenting. it means a lot.


August 19, 2019

Martin from French IV stands like a stalactite. Why are we on the ceiling of my old bedroom? The last time I saw him or that house was sophomore year, but we're together, upside-down. Just left of the ceiling fan. 
"Are you St. Peter?" 
"I'm afraid of heights."
This isn't height; it's descent into madness, I'm sure. Soon the room will start to melt upwards, and I will wake in sterility sans Martin. Unless those purple-curtained windows really are the Pearly Gates. 
"Martin, if I jump out, will I fall up or down?"
"Down, into the sky."

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