i dont actually remember the pretense for this assignment, what exact story i was told to mimic. but i’ve posted two snippets from this on here so far, so i figured id just put the whole thing up— for my legacy of course.

i believe in the opera. 

that the gold at the bottom of the river awards even the ugliest, most horrific of monsters.

we knew the gods would wreak havoc on the crops. and the harvested grain would spread disease in our bellies, grow rot in our chests. so we sustained our own famine.

at some point tonight, i became particularly convinced that you died for a brief moment when inhaling that cigarette.

i’ve loved many men in brief moments. but i’ve never cared much for their lasting presence.

I have since come to learn that when Snow People are in the snow, and on the snow, they pierce their skis…

many a feet have passed through these forbidden lands. soles left charred and blackened…

Now blind, we push forth the encroached path demanding to a patch of sand to make room for our bruised toes, just one more time…