Friday, March 23, 2012

That Night Friday

As explained on the first That Night Friday post (in which I drew from my That Nite website's archives for a story), I thought it would be a brilliant idea to have readers share their stories of "Remember that night I/we/you..." on the blog here, now that I'm no longer anonymously hosting the website. I mean, after all, who doesn't love a good story?

Friends/readers have responded!

As always, if you'd like to submit your own That Night story, send them to samantha(dot)sessoms(at)gmail(dot)com

Don't forget to come up with a sign-off, leave your state and/or city, and which category your story falls under. You can include names if you'd like (and it's helpful to the reader, as too many pronouns gets confusing!), but last names will not be published for the privacy of those involved.

The categories are: best, worst, crazy, embarrassing, and bittersweet.

Today's That Night Friday story:

I pulled my parent’s Buick into the ill used boat launch of a sleepy tributary of the Red River, returning to a party that had moved on in my absence. The embers of its fire still glowed, but the ceremony was over. The set had been burned, a ritual giving valedictory to friendships that shouldn’t have been. It would be awhile yet before our disparate natures drove us apart. On that night around that fire, the foxes and hounds danced together in primordial celebration.

If I could will myself back to that evening, I would step out of the car and breath deep the warm air while cherishing the roar of the thousands of frogs mating nearby. I would creep to the fire, and steal some ash.


If I could will myself back to that night, I would do much more. I would stay at the party and protest. I would argue that tonight should not be an end. I would stand near or on the ashes hoping the fire’s glow would cast its magic into my speech. I would attempt to stop the rotation of the earth.

The earth did rotate. One by one, my friends realized their true nature and departed. I, however, did not. Some other magic must have been disbursed while I was absent. If I could will myself back to that night, I think I would take most of that magic. The world is very lonely if you never change. 

I backed out of the boat launch and drove home. My spirit was alive with hope, love, and potential. The world loomed, but like the soul survivor of a horror film, it would be awhile before I realized it.

North Dakota

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