(Guest blogger, Mary Gaston, shares vignettes from her childhood.)
By Mary Gaston
I swung on the swing set, my feet kissing the baby blue sky. Toes painted a pastel pink, reminding me of cotton candy. 
I dipped the stale dough ball into the water, creating a moldable piece of bait. I slid it onto the copper rusty hook and tossed it into the murky water. Within moments, the ball of dough found itself in the mouth of a bass. Continue reading “Blissful Childhood Memories”
(Guest blogger, Mary Gaston, shares a glimpse of what depression looks like in the mind of a teen-ager. She wrote this piece four years ago.)
By Mary Gaston
The grotesque, false face bears a forced smile, disguising the perpetual façade of sadness that lies beneath. A permanent crease rests between my brows and tears threaten to spill and stain my face. I tighten the mask.
“I’m fine.” Those two words hold such falsity. My voice is deprived of sound. I sit in silence and tighten the mask.
Night time is such a cunning villain. I am unable to silence the thoughts that flood my fatigued mind. I so desperately desire to find tranquility, but darkness tightens its grip like spindly fingers around my body. I tighten the mask. Continue reading “From Behind the Mask”
