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This is a short piece I’ve written up on about a woman, a snowstorm, and regret.
Amy’s not a hero. She’s just someone who keeps saying yes to the wrong things until one night, in the middle of a blizzard, she finally can’t anymore.
What if the world you know isn’t real?
What if the wars, the hate, the endless noise…
are echoes of something you created and forgot?
I wrote this piece as a meditation on disconnection, the stories we tell ourselves, and the possibility that all of it, every joy, every sorrow, might be part of something we chose to experience.
I don’t know who this message is for. Maybe it’s for you. Maybe it’s for me. Either way, maybe it’s time to wake up.
Some choices sit in your chest like a stone. You tell yourself you’ll deal with it later. You tell yourself there’s still time. But then there’s not.
I’ve been writing this story called Doorway. It’s about two people holed up in a cabin at the end of the world, carrying love, fear, guilt; carrying way more than they can hold. And now something’s happened that forces the truth out.
This is the moment everything breaks.
Some mornings hit different. The sky’s that pale gray where it’s not really night anymore, but it sure as hell doesn’t feel like day. The world’s still half-asleep. People are leaving for work. Engines starting. Doors closing. But it still feels empty.
I’ve been working on this story for a while, about people stuck in the same apartment building, going through the motions, carrying their own quiet baggage.
This is Owen. She works nights. She’s hanging on by a thread.
Here’s a little piece of Chapter 1: