There once was a town where in the autumn the leaves did not fall to the ground gradually, one by one, but where the leaves fell all at once, with a terrible, ground-shaking whoosh. Every year it happened on the same day at exactly the same time: October 17th at 5:53pm.

So every year on October 17th all the townspeople gathered together in the middle of the forest and they each brought one musical instrument to play: there were trumpets and trombones, pots and pans, flutes, harps, guitars, drums, and homemade instruments of all shapes and sizes.

When everyone had gathered, the town librarian stood up on a tree stump and conducted the townspeople as they played their instruments to the tune of the fall song.

The fall song was not like regular music.  It started out quietly and built upon itself slowly and patiently.  It pulsed with a primal rhythm that constantly pushed the music upwards and outwards.  Lying beneath the song was a building energy that was dying to break forth with every beat. As the music grew louder a sense of joyful anticipation spread throughout the townspeople.

As the end of the song neared, their instruments roared with sound and melody, and they sang and yelled and clapped their hands in a state of euphoric pandemonium.  Then at the very climax of the crescendo they collectively struck the final explosive note all at the same time.  Just as they struck that note, the leaves were released from their branches and whooshed to the ground, leaving the trees bare like skeletons and covering the forest floor in a thick blanket of color.

Then, with the music still ringing in their ears and with yellow and orange leaves resting on their shoulders, the townspeople stood together in reverent silence, their eyes wide-open and shining brightly.  In that moment they could all feel their hearts growing larger and larger.

When their hearts felt like they could no longer contain whatever it was that was expanding inside, they began to clap.  Slowly, one by one.  As they clapped, the older townspeople stood tall with their heads held high and the children ran and jumped and danced in circles around them.  Their claps grew louder and louder until they could hear the sound echoing off of the trees like thunder.  And still they clapped.

Sometimes they stayed there among the trees and clapped for hours.  And when the sky became dark, the glow from their faces lit up the forest.

I wrote the following short story in a dream. Then I woke up and wrote it again:

Hello, my name is Pee and I'm from China.

Wait, no, I’m not from China. But my name is Pee. That part of the sentence was true.
Sometimes when I hear a dog barking, I pretend that that’s the sound a computer makes. Then it doesn't sound as annoying.
Other times I pretend that the barking is coming from a spider on my ceiling. I say to the spider, “Shut up, spider,” but it keeps on barking.
Sometimes the neighbors get mad at me because of my loud computer and spider.

My upper lip is always cold but I refuse to grow a mustache. I despise them. Mustaches, that is.
My neighbor Wendell has a mustache. I don’t like Wendell.
I bought an upper-lip-warmer, but it looks like a mustache so I don’t wear it anymore. I think it was made from the mustache of a man who no longer wanted his mustache.

I wonder if God has a mustache.
I hope not.
If God had a mustache would he go easier on people with mustaches?
Is God’s mustache eternal?
Does God have an eternal mustache?

The Bible could have told us anything.
The 5th commandment could have been, “Thou shalt have a mustache.”
What a different world we would live in.

I found out for the first time, only ten minutes ago, that I am not Chinese.
A Chinese man on the phone told me so.
I don’t know whether to be relieved or sad.
The conversation went like this:

Me: “Hello?”
Him: “Hello sir, my name is Kevin and I am calling you from Air Duct Services. How are you today?”
“Not good. I’m feeling sick.”
Pause.
“Sir, can you tell me if you have an air duct system in your house?”
“Yes, we do.”
“And can you tell me what company you are currently with?
“Aqua Duct 2000.”
“Um, I’m sorry sir, can you repeat that?”
“I don’t own this house. My father does and he’s sleeping right now.”
“And can you tell me what time would be better to call him?”
“Yes, between 3 and 4AM.”
“You mean 3 and 4PM?”
“Now that I think of it, 3:30AM is probably best.”
“You mean 3:30PM?”
“No, 3:30 in the morning. My father is only awake at that time.”
“Um… ahh… okay sir… I’ll… I’ll call… I’ll call him back.”
“Okay, bye.”
"You are not Chinese."

Later that night, there was a beautiful sunset. I watched it as my friend Larry and I played ping pong in the street.
Before I went to bed I wrote a thank-you letter. It went like this:

“To whom it may concern,
Thank you for the sunset today. Pink and blue. Very nice colour selection.
- Pee”

I addressed the envelope to “Whoever is responsible for the sunset” and slid it into the mailbox.

Later that night, at precisely 3:30am, I was jarred awake by the ringing telephone.
I heard my father pick it up and talk to someone for a few minutes.
He walked into my room, dressed in his tennis shoes and black leather jacket.
“Who was on the phone?” I asked him.
“Oh, that was Kevin, wondering if we needed new air ducts.”
“Did you tell him that we’re already with Aqua Duct 2000?”
“Yes, I did.” My father smiled and pulled his scuba mask down over his eyes.

The next morning, I received a letter in the mail.
It went like this:

“Dear Pee,
That sunset was not for you.
It was for Sally Jenkins in Ohio.

Sincerely,

Kevin”

The other day my brother and I were arguing over the artistic merit of a plate of vegetables. I had placed a layer of thinly sliced cucumber on top of the vegetables which acted like a bridge from one vegetable group to the next. My brother refused to eat the vegetables, stating that I should have built the bridge so that it spanned over top of the vegetable dip. You see, I had built the bridge so that it dove down into the dip, becoming completely submerged, before surfacing on the other side.

I tried to explain to my brother that at the point where the cucumber bridge submerged into the dip it actually became a tunnel, allowing people to safely travel through the dip and not overtop it, which would have been significantly less thrilling. He yelled at me, saying that I wasn't educated enough to understand the art of vegetable arrangement and then reminded me that I had dropped out of culinary architectural school after only three weeks and therefore should not be building vegetable bridges without a license.

He picked up the phone to call the police and I started crying and yelled for my mother. My father then rushed into the room and destroyed the plate of vegetables with his mouth.

The elevator door opened three quarters of the way and then stopped
I stepped inside
I pressed the button for the third floor
I saw other someone approaching and held the door open
A young man entered
He glanced at me and then turned away
I cannot recall if he pressed a button
He was wearing a long gray sweater
His hands were shoved deep into his pockets
I knew immediately that he was going to pull out a gun
He turned his head towards me
Our eyes locked
His body swiveled
He stared at me with the most earnest
Deep
Scary
Wide
Alive
Sad
Eyes
He pulled something from his pocket
I panicked and tried to swat it away
It was not a gun
It was a crumpled piece of paper
He tried to open it but I would not let him
I knew that whatever was written on that paper was bad news
He kept staring directly into my eyes
I thought I recognized him for a moment
I stammered, “Do I… Do I know you?”
It was at this moment that I realized we had gone far beyond the third floor
Then the elevator shifted and began moving downwards and picking up speed
The man looked at me and his eyes plunged deeper into sorrow
“I’m sorry,” he said
The elevator began to tremble as it picked up more speed
I felt sick to my stomach
I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his
“I’m sorry,” he said again.  “This elevator is broken beyond repair”
Those eyes
They haunt me
The elevator was in a state of freefall
“No!” I yelled
“Please!  Please!  No!”
He kept staring at me
So sad
He truly was sorry
The elevator shook violently
I cried out to God
Then came the impact
It all happened so fast
Two jarring jolts
A blackout
A grey blurry image
Hope
Confusion
And then
Nothing

You can read my short story "Hazel" HERE