Ask a Freshman Writing Major’s Description of a Street Light’s Glow Coming Into a Dark Room

Dear Freshman Writing Major’s Description of a Street Light’s Glow Coming Into a Dark Room,

I loaned my brother $2000 last year with the promise that he pay me back within 6 months. He agreed to these conditions, but 6 months have turned into 7 and then 8 and now almost a year and a half later I still haven’t been paid back. He’s my brother. I love him. I’m happy to help him out when he’s hard up, but now I’m finding myself being short when rent and other bills come around every month. How can I get him to pay me back without ruining our relationship?

Dear Brother’s Keeper,

The half-open venetian blinds allowed the street light’s glow to flow into the dark room. The light shone on the floor in long streaks, railroad tracks that illuminated what he’d known but couldn’t see. The light, a sort of yellow-washed eggshell, laid shadows there beside the tracks and glazed over a child’s ball that had rolled to a stop a long while ago in the center of the room. The man sat in a chair near the window. He’s chin in his hand, the streaks of light now painting his face like a zebra. He deep in his thoughts; the ball, the woman from the circus. The glow showed him nothing.

Dear Freshman Writing Major’s Description of a Street Light’s Glow Coming Into a Dark Room,

Over the last year and a half, my husband has gained a lot of weight. He’s working more and is stressed and his eating habits are reflecting that. He used to be an avid runner and loved the outdoors but now when he has free time he just wants to watch TV and snack. I totally understand that, but I’m worried about his health. And everytime I try and bring it up, he takes it as a personal critique of his appearance and feels as though I don’t find him as attractive. But I do. He’s a wonderful man. I love him dearly. I just want him to be healthy. What can I say that will make him believe me?

Dear Concerned Wife,

The world had therehence exploded into the tribes of the dead and the living. And the cities, now lain in ruins, decomposed like the fleshy souls that once inhabited them. New York City, the Big Apple, was now a barren wastescape, save one streetlight which shone into a rotting apartment building. That light, muted by the plastic cover that had been partially melted in the aftermath of the nuclear hellstrom, was now a beacon of the once-was and the had-been, the only evidence that society existed in a form representing the one that humanity had once built up for thousands of years until the aliens invaded and infected the earth’s inhabitants with a virus that destroyed everything that had ever been known and would ever be known, leaving only this street light, with it’s yellow, amber hue crawling through a haze of smoke and a blanket of death onto a cracked brick wall that had once protected a family but now protected nothing, not even itself, for its only warmth came from that light there, that streamed from 25 feet above the ground, mounted onto a metal pillar of humanity and serving as nothing short of a flame, ever eternal, lighting its own destiny, unbeholden to that of anything else.

Dear Freshman Writing Major’s Description of a Street Light’s Glow Coming Into a Dark Room,

Our dog is destroying our house. He is urinating on rugs and digging holes into carpeting and ripping into furniture. He’s two years old now, and at first we thought he would outgrow this kind of behavior through training. But that hasn’t happened and it’s becoming clear that we can no longer afford to keep him in our home. The only problem is our kids are in love with him. We can’t keep him, but we also don’t want to hurt our kids. What should we do? We need you here.

Dear Dog Days,

The street light glowed through the open window as his lips met hers. He’d yet to close his eyes and she’d yet to open her soul to him. What was to come? Oh and how the light cast a shadow over their faces and blurred the division between them now. Only the present was with them. Their past and futures had been washed out of the room into the glow of the street light that bathed the sidewalk below their seedy motel room like the hot sun that had long since gone to sleep. She unbuttoned her blouse and her breasts fell into the soft glow of the street light, which revealed a small freckle just above her areola. He kissed it with supple lips that were flush with blood but shone yellow in the streetlight. It showing the color of his cowardice. He was nervous, a virgin. “I’m an impossible soul in a possible world,” he side under his breath as his lips moved from the freckle on to her erect nipple. He closed the blinds, but the street light peaked through in one long streak cutting across the room like the shaft of his sin. The heat of their bodies created a haze in the light and they knew each other there on the hardwood floor like wild animals devoid of the strings that connect the soul to the human-form. The glow from the street light, the only witness to their sin.