An old sepia photo can be a bullet. It can tear through the lineup of neurons, neatly lined up like socks on a bed. It can make you aware that you are your latest incarnation. That you have been here before.

A mother and her child. Doesn't that child look familiar? Who remembers his own birth? Especially when it was 70 years ago? Today I am 27. I have been 27 many times now, projecting myself a year into the future so that I could live as 27 for a year, then my past self projecting himself a year into the future to kill that 27 year old so he could be 27 for a year. And on and on. A perverse immortality that requires my yearly death. A death at the hands of myself.

But this year I have discovered love. Corny? That's what my 26 year old self would have said. But I know the truth now -- about love and my adolescent ambition. It's all in this photograph. And to keep my love, I must kill my yearly past visitor before he kills me. That way I can live. That way I can love. And that way I can die an old man.

Here he comes now. He looks determined. But I am a year older. And much wiser.


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xesands almost 11 years ago

Love this story, but didn't love my rendition. Opted for "Revolutions" instead, done as an age progression. Keep writing - love your work!

xesands almost 11 years ago

Would love to do an audio rendition of this - Qner, any objection to me reverting to feminine pronouns for the recording?

Qner almost 11 years ago

Sound great, xesands!

xesands almost 11 years ago

Thanks so much, Qner! Do you want attribution to be to "Qner" or something else? If something else, feel free to ping me via email at voxology[at] And I'll be sure to post a link here once it's up. Figure, mid/late October?

Galen almost 11 years ago

This is mind-bending. I wonder what you'd create if you had a year – one of those years – to write?

Qner (joined almost 11 years ago)

The first story I remember writing was about a man who caught a two-headed fish. He held it in his hand, marveling at it for a while, and then he noticed that it had another hook in it's mouth. Somebody else had caught it and let it go. So he carefully removed his hook and set it free.

I don't know how old I was when I wrote that, but I'm still trying to write a better story.

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