Christopher Charest
Bio
Dreams are better when they're written.
Stories (3/0)
a place remembered
I watched him float across the room as if he had done this a million times. His hips moved with the beat of the music as the rest of his body followed as if it were just one fluid motion. The music was deafening, the bass rattled the floor. I held my drink as I watched him a few times I thought that he noticed me staring but even if he did he didn’t seem to mind. It was as if he wanted this attention as if this is why he did this, to be admired, to be adored by the bystanders. I long wondered what that would be like instead, my awkward stance and lanky body structure made it impossible to do anything without looking like I don’t belong.
By Christopher Charest2 years ago in Fiction
Remy
I never expected to love anything as much as I did the minute that I met Remy. The day feels like the first day of my real life, like everything before it was just a dream, that every memory that led up to that day was just imagined. It is so interesting to think about how quickly your life begins to matter- that your heart feels whole when you didn’t even know that it was missing a piece before that moment. That is exactly how I felt thinking about the moment I met Remy. His short fawn coat, soft brown eyes, and floppy ears made up the perfect image of the dog that I once dreamt of having.
By Christopher Charest2 years ago in Petlife
winter constellations
The night was one of those cold nights that sound seemed nonexistent. The air felt like ice as it moved into my lungs and the sounds of the night seemed to be blanketed like after a fresh snowfall. I wanted to go back to how it felt just a few months ago, when the warm summer sun would still be high in the sky this time of night, instead the icy winter moon hung in its place. I missed what summer felt like. I missed feeling the breeze and not having it feel like frostbite was turning my fingers black. More than anything, I missed you.
By Christopher Charest2 years ago in Fiction