Ring around the rosie, Angela Deane, Acrylic on photograph, 2016
When disaster comes, some of us will stand on the rooftop to address the ghosts. Some of us will hold the line. Some will look for the shards, run our tongues along the floor. — Franny Choi, How to Let Go of the World
There is always more than one reason behind everything happening. For instance, I am writing this because I had free time. I am also writing this because I had to write it. I am writing this because I wanted to define my sentiments. I am also writing this because I don’t want to have a conversation about my trepidations with the people around me.
The only thing that incites fear in me is what the future upholds.
What are the reasons behind me being so apprehensive about our future? Perhaps not just because the world is ending. Certainly not because the world is ending. Everything might begin and end at the kitchen table: but there is no space for the kitchen table metaphor here. Temperatures will continue to rise, frost free season will lengthen, droughts and heat waves will be frequent, hurricanes will become stronger and intense, precipitation patterns will change and change will continue through this century and beyond.¹
How old are we? I’m asking about our planet’s age. What is the life expectancy of our planet? I’m asking to be sure. When I’m distressed, I think of things that make me happy. Chocolate ice cream. My brother. Poetry. The science behind the sun rising. Annotated books. But today, as the clouds drop hail, thinking about happy things does not help. I am thinking of war, climate change, pandemic and growing up all at once. I am thinking of what I will be doing when the world is on the brink of extinction. Perhaps I will be sitting in front of my laptop writing yet again about my fears.
Dear Readers, while I write about my fears, I encourage you all to read our Red Room of Tales. Yes, the abandoned chamber in Gateshead Hall where Jane’s uncle, Mr. Reed passed away. The Red Room was frightening, and the three specially curated pieces in this volume are too. We are excited for you to read our hideous progeny.
Divyanshi Dash
President
Redstockings Literary Society
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