Geniuses, they were called. Because they had solved the problem of what to do with the windows the neighbors wouldn’t open. The neighbors’ children were always looking through the windows, signaling, but the neighbors were always saying they didn’t have any children. The old frames of antique window are warped, they said. The glass panes are not standard sizes, not easily replaceable. The wood swollen and fragile with rot, the antique wooden windows were a hazard, foggy in some places so that the mist was like translucent curtains. The foggy lace mist hid as it revealed the ghost faces—not, not ghost faces, ghostly faces, ghostly, because surely the children were real, despite what the neighbors said, growing angry and embarrassed. Even slightly unsure? Unsure of what? That what they said was true, that what the claimed to know in their hearts might not be, that what they thought they knew about themselves and the house they had lived in all those years could not be taken for granted? If they did not know themselves, their lives, or their own house, how could they know anything? How could anyone ever know anything or anyone ever again if they could not claim to know themselves? They became like strangers to each other because of the windows. Some windows were like televisions. Other windows were like movie theater screens. Each and every night, the screenings began as the sky darkened and the windows began to light with curious scenes, beautiful little faces peering out at us.

10 Comments

  1. Aimee Parkison

    Hey all, this piece is from Aimee. Sorry I didn’t realize I wasn’t logged in when I posted today!

  2. Koss Just Koss

    This is strange and wonderful. I could see the faces through my neighbor’s window. Vivid.

  3. Meg Tuite

    Hi Aimee,
    I was looking for you! I am a fan of your beauties!
    This is fascinating! The 3rd person narration. All the questions! LOVE! Questions upon questions. ” Even slightly unsure? Unsure of what?”
    “The wood swollen and fragile with rot, the antique wooden windows were a hazard, foggy in some places so that the mist was like translucent curtains.” “That what they said was true, that what the claimed to know in their hearts might not be, that what they thought they knew about themselves and the house they had lived in all those years could not be taken for granted? If they did not know themselves, their lives, or their own house, how could they know anything? How could anyone ever know anything or anyone ever again if they could not claim to know themselves? They became like strangers to each other because of the windows. Some windows were like televisions. Other windows were like movie theater screens. Each and every night, the screenings began as the sky darkened and the windows began to light with curious scenes, beautiful little faces peering out at us.” DAMN!! I read this again and again, over and under….
    It’s the beauty of the macro within what might be a micro, but only in the first line, the title maybe.
    This is absolutely brilliant and philosophical and has the reader questioning everything we don’t know.
    WOW! Just a masterpiece! LOVE LOVE LOVE!

    • Aimee Parkison

      Thanks, Meg!!! I’m absolutely loving your class. So inspiring! I admire your writing so much. It’s very cool to have a chance to learn from you!

  4. Sara Comito

    Aimee, it’s so intriguing and the rhythm builds and builds. I love this phrase: “The foggy lace mist hid”

    It’s writing that unfurls and unravels, and demands we peer into the windows that won’t be opened and ask question upon question. Well done.

  5. Robert Vaughan

    Hi Aimee, so enamored with the mysteries throughout this haunting and wonderfully drawn flash. The unanswered questions, or untold portions, use of white spaces and then, of course, the use of the totemic item: windows themselves. So HUGE to consider their relevance. This is another amazing piece- so grateful you are in this workshop! WOW! Simply wow.

  6. Faye Rapoport DesPres

    Hi Aimee, I was so intrigued by this piece…the unanswered questions, the haunting faces, the many possibilities around windows…I just love how it makes the reader even doubt what they know or understand themselves. Awesome.

  7. Jacqueline Doyle

    “The neighbors’ children were always looking through the windows, signaling, but the neighbors were always saying they didn’t have any children.” I was immediately mesmerized. And then the beautiful imagery, the wood of the antique windows, “swollen and fragile with rot,” the mist like “translucent curtains,” the windows like televisions or movie screens. This is haunting.

Submit a Comment

Pin It on Pinterest