Sammy lived in my room before I did, for 3 years of her college career. She told me when I arrived that she’d burned sage there to cleanse it of bad energy, on the word of a county fair psychic. The sage she gave her was free, so why not?
That’s Sammy’s favorite phrase: why not.
It still smells like sage now, in this closet-sized single on the top floor of the building, despite Sammy’s belongings being long gone. She approves, generally, of what I’ve done with the place, now that it’s mine. She especially likes the Christmas lights.
The reason Sammy’s still here is because her childhood home is filled with the dark sticky energy of small-town disappointment, and besides, the smell of sour milk spilled in the fridge once. Not that Sammy can smell it anymore, but she knows it’s still there.
This room, ultimately, was her favorite place, the place where, she says, she evolved into the final version of herself.
We get along pretty well, me and Sammy. She claims we’re an odd couple, because I don’t talk or do much outside of school, and all Sammy ever wanted to do when she was alive was put on something with sequins and grind against strangers in clubs until the sun came up. Then she’d go back to the dorm and even there, dream about velvet skin and friction, of teeth vibrating from a heavy baseline crashing from the floor.
She understands I’m different and respects that, maybe because of the room itself that, since her entrance there and since the sage-burning, was meant to be a place of peace, of calm, of emotional cleanliness. I like that about Sammy, her sense of honor for this shrine of her life.
Of course the close quarters means we get impatient with each other; on my breaks from class I usually feel like a nap, and she disapproves. “Sleeping during the day is only fashionable if you have a hangover,” she says. “Or, if you were up at night long enough to see the moon and the stars rise in the sky and fall again. But that’s it.”
I reply, “The sun is also a star. Leave me alone.”
She mostly backs off when I refute her, but I can tell she’s concerned.
Periodically when I’m sleeping she’ll make the door knock: always two beats, knock-knock like a joke-- like there’s a corporeal someone outside the room waiting for me to play checkers with them, or some friendly shit like that. I tell her to stop it-- I’m a light sleeper so you’d better believe that kind of thing wakes me up-- but secretly, I think that it’s sweet she’s worried about me.
She goes at night, to bars or clubs or long vacated friends’ houses. I don’t like it when she’s gone. The room is stuffier, sweatier. And when she comes back, early in the AMs, it’s really jolting, because suddenly I’m cold and need to pull the felt blanket at the edge of my bed up to my chin.
Then, we’re warm together, I’d like to think, beneath the blanket and the moon and the stars sinking lower under the horizon, and the sun just beginning to melt into our window like butter in a hot pan.
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Canary word: Present
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125,008 Literary Works • 672,827 Reviews
I love the metaphors in this and similes. The description really lets the reader's mind run wild. Not to mention your grammar is excellent. I can't find a single example where it's lacking.
The dynamic between Sammy and the narrator is truly endearing though. I could read about them all day. This sounds like the perfect little short story that someone could fit into a book. Sammy sure is a quirky character. As for personal suggestions, I don't really have any. Perhaps you could word a few sentences so they were smoother, but that's really it. Overall, this was a wonderful piece. I enjoyed reading it!
The title had me believe that this would be an eerie story, and I was not disappointed.
I enjoyed reading this; it was short and sweet. One of my favorite parts is that no real imagery is given of Sammy or the narrator, each reader gets to imagine them for his or herself. Both characters are given enough personality to be likable. I like how Sammy is clearly some kind of ghost/spirit, but it's not said directly. I like how their friendship is painted as something good by the narrator, but it's also kind of creepy.
I don't have a lot of critique for this. The very ending is worded kind of weirdly. It's a long sentence with four commas. It's a bit complex for an ending. Another thing to think about would be adding at least a faint story line. As of now the story isn't much of a story, just a description of life with Sammy. Just something to think about.
Overall great piece! Quite a fun read.
~Nymeria
I really enjoyed this! It almost seems like the kind of thing to read on stage, at an open mic or something like that. I love the way you tell the story but never falter in the sort of rhythm you're keeping. It's also refreshing how when you read it, at the beginning at least, you're not really sure what you're getting into. It's not a conventional ghost story, but it's got the right mood for one. Great work!
I really enjoyed this! It almost seems like the kind of thing to read on stage, at an open mic or something like that. I love the way you tell the story but never falter in the sort of rhythm you're keeping. It's also refreshing how when you read it, at the beginning at least, you're not really sure what you're getting into. It's not a conventional ghost story, but it's got the right mood for one. Great work!
Hello, Gina here for a quick review
You are a great writer, I hope you know that. And, though I don't believe I've read any stuff from you before, I will definitely be doing so now that I've reviewed this. Your last sentence was beautiful, and perfectly finished the short story. I liked your characters, you gave us sweet, subtle facts about them through the story without bombarding us with information and making people easily attached to them. 
To start, I enjoyed reading this a lot and I think that you are a great writer, but I have a couple of things to suggest to you. Just know that these are personal opinions, so don't feel obligated to take them by any means. I know that I myself even typically don't listen to people's reviews because I like the way I write...but anyway, enough of my blabbering.
"The sage she gave her was free, so why not?"--for this, I would maybe try writing "She was given sage for free, so why not?" just because it fits better with your other sentences, and it sounds a little nicer.
Just kidding, I didn't have a couple of things to correct, just the one
Overall, I liked this and gave you a star to prove so. Please, continue to write and maybe even tag me in your next short stories because, if they are anything like this one, I want to be a part of them
With love,
Gina