This Christmas, as we all sat around in Grandma’s living room– a room which has seen generations pass through it, a room which has witnessed the moments of absurdity, of pain, and of beauty, a room which could tell stories late into the night–I was reminded of a sort of “game” we cousins all used to play. It was called “Avalanche.” It involved gathering all of the cushions, pillows, and blankets from around the house, placing them at the top of the stairs. Once all was in place, we would all throw ourselves onto the pile and tumble down the stairs, screaming “AVALANCHE!!!” It was dangerous. It was dumb. And it was exhilarating.
Looking at that staircase again, 20 years later, it is strange to see how time has passed, how we all have grown into our own lives, and now there are little toddlers bopping up and down on the worn out carpet.
I am reading The Martian Chronicles by Ray Bradbury right now and came across this passage about Time. I thought it was fitting to share with you all as we approach the New Year and think of old ones.
There was a smell of Time in the air tonight. He smiled and turned the fancy in his mind. There was a thought. What did time smell like? Like dust and clocks and people. And if you wondered what Time sounded like it sounded like water running in a dark cave and voices crying and dirt dropping down upon hollow box lids, and rain. And, going further, what did Time look like? Time look like snow dropping silently into a black room or it looked like a silent film in an ancient theater, 100 billion faces falling like those New Year balloons, down and down into nothing. That was how Time smelled and looked and sounded. And tonight-Tomas shoved a hand into the wind outside the truck-tonight you could almost taste time.
― Ray Bradbury, The Martian Chronicles
Don’t forget to submit your story – today is the last day for submissions and it just takes a minute. See you back here in 2017!