Feb 21
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YWP Contest- “Who” 
A hallway of infinite thoughts lies right in front of me, it smells like home and I can’t help but want to explore. The hallways are complex and confusing, each new thought branching out into millions of other ones, not unlike branches on trees. I begin my adventure and see many things, an ethereal garden that seems to glow with the very essence of magic, a burning ruin of a castle long forgotten, they all seem familiar, the thought of them reaching deep into my mind. I’m not quite sure why they’re familiar but they seem important. The deeper I travel down these hallways the more I feel myself forget, nearly blending in with the memories and thoughts that surround me. Faces line the walls, faces that I love and hate. I don’t remember their names but the sight of them brings me into the deepest corners of my mind. The hazy hallways, the glowing garden, the corroding castle, are my thoughts, my dreams, my memories. In a way this is me. But who exactly am I? I try and remember but my mind is full of stars and mystifying thoughts. I continue down the hallway reaching a place which I think was my home, which home however, I don’t know. I’ve moved around all my life, and I’ve lived in many places. There’s now a window in the previously empty hallway. It’s snowing outside, but the sun is blazing. A mixture of two of my homes? I faintly remember two places, one with the smell of the sea and the crash of the waves, the sun is high in the sky and the sidewalk pavement is burning. The other, a place of wind and snow, the chill of ice through my gloves, and the taste of maple syrup on my tongue. I feel homesick and sit down on a lone loveseat at the end of the hallway. Running my fingers over the soft surface of the couch, I remember a specific memory, or rather I’m presented with one. A huge screen is set in front of me, playing my most precious memories back to me. Trips to amusement parks with my families, spending time with my friends, discovering what I want to do in highschool, many wildly different memories sing out to me but to me they’re somewhat the same. They’re me. And I realize I have much more time to spend creating memories, and when I eventually return to this hallway of infinite thoughts, I hope to find them again.

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About the Author: AbagailCook
Abagail Cook
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