I have been wanting to dye my hair for a while, but I was worried about what other people would think of me. Eventually, I got up the nerve to dye my hair, so I went to the store and bought the big yellow bottle that obnoxiously said DYE on it in big blue letters. As soon as I bought it, I went home and dyed my hair with the dye I bought before I had any second thoughts. But as soon as I rinsed out the excess dye, I knew something was wrong. Seriously wrong. My hair was dry, much more than it is supposed to be and it is drying out more and more. I grabbed the bottle and voraciously read the fine print. Turns out it wasn’t hair dye, but DYE standing for Dissolving Yellow Elixer, which is a strange company who makes a patented acid that is safe on skin. I learned the hard way that it is not safe for hair, for my hair is so dry it just physically disappearing from the earth. I am so bald now that I couldn’t have done a better job if I went to a barber to get my head shaved. Whoops.

Night skiing means foggy trails, laughing friends, and quiet views.

Night skiing means the slice of edges cutting into the mountainside, the warmth of steaming hot cocoa from a thermos, and the relaxing emptiness of the lodge.

​Night skiing means dark skies, bright lights, and strong winds.

Night skiing means the rush of the wind in your ears, the sting of the snow hitting your face, and the weightlessness of being airborne.

Night skiing means peaceful woods, amazing snow, and perfect nights.

 

“How’s it going?” Carl asked. “Anything cool happen when I was gone?”

“Really? Wait, you’re kidding, right?” Carl said wide-eyed. “Why?”

“Wow. I sure missed a ton. Glad I wasn’t here!” Carl exclaimed. “What do you think happened?”

“But why a bus?” Carl asked. “Why not something more traditional?”

“What’s their name?” Carl asked.

“You’re right! I see what you mean,” Carl whispered. 

“Okay, I will. See you at school!” Carl yelled. “What a day to miss!”

I am walking passed the red brick factory that has been abandoned for decades when my sneaker crunches a piece of a dry, crumbling brick. Another piece falls next to my foot. I look up at the factory and see just above my shoulder one broken brick sticking out of the wall, alone in a flat sea of red and brown. I am pulling at the crumbling pieces when a folded paper flutters to the ground. I open it to see what it says.

If you are reading this, I am sorry. But fate has chosen you to cease to exist. The world has had its perfections, but it has also had its faults. You sadly are one of those faults. You may deny it, but it is true. I am sorry. Goodbye.

                                                                           I like the sly sarcastic swirling letter s.
                                                   I like slippery snow for sledding.
                 I like slicing skis screeching down the slope.
I like sequels of a series that send shivers down your spine.
                                              I like strong sliding saxophone songs.
                                                               I like panda bears sassily eating sasa.
                                      I like sleek sailboats that strike through the spattering waves.
                                   I like spicy salsa smattering salty chips.
                             I like sweet syrup soaking soft waffles.
I like the silly scintillating saccharine letter s.

I wake up on a Saturday morning, and see that the ground is smothered in fluffy new snow. I groggily stumble down the stairs to see my cat screaming at me to open the balcony door. I’ve noticed that no matter the weather he wants to see the balcony. It’s covered in around two feet of silky, numbing snow. My cat casually slinks out, walks two feet out, and sinks to his stomach. Horrified by this freezing, strangling fluff, he quickly trudges back inside. My mom makes me an steamy omelet for breakfast, and then we’re on our way to the ski mountain. We get to the lodge, and the pungent wave of sweat scented heat slams into my nostrils. Ten feet of cottony snow had fallen the past week, and none of it had melted yet. We head up the quad lift, and I let the grating rumble drown out my thoughts. The splendor of the view at the peak is incredible. The fluffy white clouds, the bushy green pines and firs, the cold dark blue lake. I head down the glades trail.