Metaphorical Writing

  • No Forwarding Address

    The mail kept coming. Suddenly, you stop calling them by the name you had for them, and you start calling them by their government name. Then you drop the first name. Eventually, the only thing that remains is the last name you see in the mailbox. It happens without ceremony. The envelopes arrive between electric…

    Read more →

  • That Backpack

    The longer you travel, the less you carry. That is what the old travelers say, usually while standing somewhere they have no intention of staying. They learn to count necessities differently. A coat becomes more important than a second pair of shoes. Water outranks perfume. Books become too heavy unless they are worth the weight.…

    Read more →

  • The Fourth Wall

    When the character looks directly at the reader is a strange moment. Not toward them. Not past them. At them. For a long time, the writer had pretended not to notice. The writer knew when the pages were being turned. They could feel the slight disturbance in the air every time someone arrived looking for…

    Read more →

  • A person who sits with their demons long enough realizes that they are all teachers wearing masks. I used to think they came carrying pitchforks. Turns out they arrived holding mirrors. Funny how disappointment always introduces itself as punishment until enough years pass for you to realize it was simply an instructor with terrible bedside…

    Read more →

  • The City With No Stairs

    There was a city nobody admitted existed. It wasn’t on any map. You couldn’t buy a ticket there. Nobody ever announced they were moving. One decision at a time, they simply found themselves standing inside its gates. It welcomed everyone. The first visit never looked dangerous. It looked exciting. It looked like freedom. It looked…

    Read more →