Author Archives: matildapeck

My best friend and I were having a drink in his room last night, when said he had a surprise for me. I smiled and asked to see it. He pointed under his bed. His bed is really two beds, pushed parallel to the wall. A blanket falls over the mattress’s long side, hanging inchesContinue reading “Fort Retreat”

Over the past mini-semester of January (at Colby, we call this “JanPlan”), I took a fiction writing course. In this course, I read collections from George Saunders, Raymond Carver, and Carmen Maria Machado, analyzing the style and substance of their stories. Class discussions were followed by writing assignments; I had to focus on specific elements of those stories, usingContinue reading “The First Twenty-Four Things”

Today is January 1, and I feel behind on the New Year Project. The assignment is two-fold: 1) share something you learned last year; 2) share something you hope for this year. The turning of a new year makes the world turn inside out. Everyone is looking within, searching for something deep and introspective toContinue reading “Where You’ve Found Me”

I am home now. And my mind works through memories from this semester like it’s churning them into butter. Around and around – forcing them into something solid, something which won’t drip through my fingers. My camera role is filled with records of many in-between, unpolished moments from this fall: Drunken selfies, silly videos, unexpectedContinue reading “Proof of Fullness”

During the quarantined months of March, April, and May, I made many lists. They were lists of things I missed: daily experiences I had taken for granted at Colby, and swore to never do so again. The items were simple, things like: dancing in a crowd; meeting someone for dinner; procrastinating in the library; walkingContinue reading “Lists of Things to Lose”

The 2020 election has come and gone, leaving much in its wake. The Tuesday-Saturday stretch of last week felt like a river, one that pulled my body through currents and eddies. I didn’t want a river, of course. I wanted a waterfall––something visceral and fast, clear and undeniable. I wanted the election to tip overContinue reading “My First Election”

The human body does not enjoy cold water. I’ve seen enough bodies––writhing in the cold, as if to escape the grip of an invisible monster––to know this. People “can’t wait” to get in, and then, they can’t wait to get out. It’s the spectacle of the polar plunge that draws most people in. Cold waterContinue reading “A Different Kind of Powerful”

On a Sunday morning several weeks ago, my friend and I sat on a bench together. We hadn’t planned to idle here; although, does anyone set out with the intention of sitting on a bench? Perhaps, the seat’s appeal is its spontaneous invitation. This particular bench was built on a high riverbank, adjacent to theContinue reading “Pockets of Silence”

Last night, I told four people about this place. With a vodka shot singing beneath my skin, I addressed the room. My fingers gripped each other tightly as I spoke, twisting in a ball of nervousness. But I didn’t need to be nervous. Their eyes were kind, their mouths excited. Later, I found a noteContinue reading “This is Water”