fragile humanity

In an abandoned house about ten miles south of our high school, deep in the woods, there’s a bedroom that is always wet. 

On the surface, it sounds unremarkable. Woods. Abandoned house. Water. Leaks. Wet bedroom.

Go inside, though, and you’ll realize it’s a little more complicated than that. A little harder to explain.

The water in that room clings to the floor and walls and ceiling in heavy, gelatinous globules. Touch one and it’ll break, spilling foul-smelling water on you. I made that mistake the one time I visited on my own. It takes days to get that stink off.

me: studying

friend: let’s gossip

me: 

that can only mean one thing

hello here is a short story i wrote for a competition i didn’t win. enjoy