Vermont
I stare at rolling fields, watching the houses slip by. I look up at the mountains, noticing the warm tint on the trees that blanket them. It’s past 7 PM, one of the most beautiful times of the day in Vermont.
I stare at rolling fields, watching the houses slip by. I look up at the mountains, noticing the warm tint on the trees that blanket them. It’s past 7 PM, one of the most beautiful times of the day in Vermont.
The school's rubble lay in front of us. We were close enough to climb around it if it weren't for that damn fence that prevented us. It was one of those wire fences that would surround a school's playfield, and it was covered by a tarp.
Earthwalk was an outdoor school on the Goddard college campus where people from the ages of 7 to 15 would have a day in the middle of the week to go and be out in nature.
There’s no escaping. I'm alone..yet again. No one's here it's pure silence the room is cold, my fingertips are too. There's no escaping this state of mind, it comes around every month creeping on me and I can't break free.
My parents gasp. The sun fades from view. I take off my glasses.
Child, your future is best left unspoiled, so I may be too vague, or not vague enough. Don’t be afraid of the contents within this letter . . .
It all started on one sunny June afternoon. School had just gotten out, and finally, I got to go to camp. My mom was in the car waiting for me. She didn't really have to wait that long because I bolted out of the school.
Dear Beatrice,
Covid is about to start. Don't worry, this isn't the end of the world. You just have to get through the next two years.
Also: You need glasses. Please get them and don't wait four more years.
oh you sweet child,
you aren't ready. you never will be ready, but the world will force you to take it anyways. this world has no mercy, no love. it does not care.
Her legs lay limp against a log
Her face, bright red
Heart pounding
Lungs struggling to slow down
Never has she been able to go so far
Never has she been able to push herself without criticism
She kneels down on the track
Feeling the rough concrete on her knees
Sweat trickling down her face like a waterfall
Encouraging eruption noises from strangers she doesn't know
Her head turns ever so slightly