Passing

I have lots of story ideas that I jot down and keep locked away on a password protected interface. Sometimes, I leave them here, to finish and post them to you, my viewers. This is one of them, only it was just the title. Months have gone by and I have forgotten what it was for. Some passing thought or dream, surely. Possibly another blog about missing my dad.

Now, the title is ironically judging me. Scouring in the corner that I’ve left it in, spitting the dust back to the floor. It lurks, looking over other blogs that I have so lovingly written, lamenting over indescernable sentiments. No matter how much I promise that it wasn’t my intent to leave it for so long. So, here I am, coercing it back into my keyboard, caressing it with soft words and thumb taps. Generating something into existence.

When I was young, I fell in love with someone who set my soul on fire. He claimed I filled his lungs with fresh air. Things came crashing down two years later and I learned a hard lesson. Many moons afterward, we spoke and I gained my closure. Our love was still there, still real and we both felt it. One of the last things he ever said was, “We may never see, we may never speak, but you will always be a passing thought.”

I’m still not sure how I feel about it.

Published by

Erika Damn Castle!

I've always been told that I'm an adventurous girl and I cannot deny any of it. I would love to see the world and experience all of the stories it has to tell me. I am a child of the arts, developing my senses in music, painting, sketching, crafting, et cetera. But writing... it was a talent I believe I was born with. I'm not saying I'm an amazing (grammatically correct) author, just that I'm a natural storyteller. I can remember from the time that I learned how to read and write, I was eager to create my own world. I would scribble out tons of poems and short stories, then forcibly share them with my family (or even with my classmates). One of those stories resulted in the creation of this blog. Black Tears. As a child with an already wild imagination, I would always have these equally crazy dreams. One of those dreams was so vivid, that I awoke in the middle of the night and jotted down everything I could remember. From that point, the dream evolved into a poem, then a short story, and then to a complete story. It is the fruit of my 20 year procrastinating labor, and has been published into a book (the first of its series). Tune in to stay updated on the growth of myself as an author and the series. I hope you enjoy it as much as I have loved creating it! XX , Erika

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s