Nonfiction

Ross Gay, a famed poet and essayist whose works include Catalogue of Unabashed Gratitude and Bringing The Shovel Down, is known for his essayettes of delights, compiled in The Book of Delights and The Book of More De

Write a short story or poem about a time traveler or time travelers. Where and when are they going? Where and when are they coming from? What are they going to do when they get there?

The clouds churn in swirls, grey and dark. A sorrow that befalls the earth, mourning something deep and untold. A tear rolls down, cold and bitter and I weep for the misery of this darkness.

The talking. The low hum of the trout tank. A few quiet people, me included. The sounds of people being scolded for their behavior at school. The cracking as I crack my fingers. The clickity-clacking of the keys on the keyboard. 

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,