First Frost Josh

In this week's post, I am sharing the short story I wrote over the past few months. It was inspired by the legend of Šulak (pronounced shoo-lak), the so-called demon of the privy. I encourage you to look at the Šulak Wikipedia page after reading the story to learn more about the history of the legend. This was my first short story attempt, so I definitely learned a lot throughout the writing process. I hope you enjoy it!

I finally figured it out—why they still build houses with fireplaces. I mean, when you think about it, it’s 2021. We have furnaces—hell, the Earth sets itself on fire every other day now. I think we’re a bit past the days of huddling around a fire, swaddled in blankets that resemble a well-intentioned chokehold more than a snuggly embrace. And before you start talking my ear off about aesthetics or prestige or property value—I get it. Fireplaces certainly look nice. At least they used to. Gone are the fireplaces of yore: roughly laid brick and stone framing a chasm meant for a roaring inferno that would warm your toes from across the room. These days it’s all about minimalism—avant-garde—clean lines—monochromatic. It's too clean. Lacks character. The fireplace too. You’re really gonna have parties just so you can show it off? You paid how many extra thousands for an ornamental façade you’ll never use? It might as well be electric—you could eat off that hearth! But look, I’ve tho...

Nothing quite imprints on the memory like the places we have called home. Whether the tiny apartment you spent a semester abroad in or the childhood abode you said goodbye to upon leaving for college, I bet you can still remember every detail. Who else could recall, with tender nostalgia, the dog-shaped discoloration just above your bedroom window or the careful art of jerking open the sticky back door? These are the details that occupy our mind at coincidental moments, unexpectedly blooming in a burst of familiarity. In short—the places we live in form our experiences.

Autumn air tastes of urgency. The creeping chill and trees’ spectacular descent into hibernation note the passing days with the same inevitability as a ticking clock. As each expiration of breath becomes more and more visible, we are reminded of nature’s steady countdown to winter. Change is everywhere and inescapable. Rather than reject it, autumn invites us to embrace it. For the me the peak of autumnal anticipation is the start of the school year in September. There’s something magical about those first few weeks of school: not yet besieged with assignment upon assignment, the temperature imperceptibly dipping, reacquainting yourself with the faces, new and old, and all that has changed about them over the summer. At that age, it feels like every small event has the potential to completely change life as you know it. The highs are high, and the lows are low, but above all there is an instinctive craving to try new things and experience as never before.