Connor Geroux Writing

Category: Short Stories

  • Of Clay and Sand

    Of Clay and Sand

    The first action recorded in the Bible is an act of creation. 

    On the first day was the creation of light, the second was the sky and seas, the third the clay that made the land. The Lord put much time and care into these creations, to such a precision that if any single cell or atom were constructed in a different way, the entire universe would fall apart. But more than that, God had a plan for this universe, and it had to begin with the creation on the third day. 

    And on the sixth day God made man. He created man in his own image and named him Adam. And God gave the man the ability to choose. He could choose what to name the animals; he could choose where to grow the plants. He put a tree in the center of the garden that Adam lived in and told him to not eat the fruit growing from it. He could have refrained from giving him this command; if the tree was harmful he could have removed it; yet he let Adam make the choice. 

    He allowed Adam the ability to choose because God is an artist with love for his creation. On the third day he created clay that he would use to sculpt his finest creation on the sixth. A creation that he deemed “very good.” And though he understood the inevitable cost that would come from giving his masterpiece a working mind, one that dared to challenge him, he did so with grace. For God is an artist full of love, and he could not help but create another artist to share the feeling with. 

    And for a time Adam lived in the portrait that his father painted for him. He lived in the wild reds and greens and blues that made up the garden his father grew. And in that time Adam found himself to be an artist as well. He would name the feathered beasts in the morning and dance with his wife in the afternoon. He would grow a tree at dawn and whittle a plank at dusk. And his work was not work because he loved what he did. 

    But the unchallenged world is not one an artist lives in for very long. So one day the man ate the fruit, and ashamed of what he had done, left the grove his father had planted for him. And what was once a sea of color was now a field of dust and sand. And though God loved Adam, Adam grew to resent God. For the kindness of the father to let his son wander away left the son with pinpricks in his heart from his own mistakes. These needles would slowly poke at the man again and again, and the more Adam kept his eyes turned away from God, the deeper they seemed to dig. 

    So Adam was in pain. He felt this pain in Syria, he felt this pain in Egypt. He felt it in Jericho and he felt it in Nineveh. And he focused on this pain through Rome and Germany and Spain and New York. He directed his eyes to the pinpricks of his heart and dared not to look above for his father, in case the spikes chose to dig themselves deeper when he wasn’t paying attention. 

    And in all his time that he focused on his pain, Adam grew to hate his father for it. He hated his father for allowing him to suffer, for turning his face away the moment he made a wrong choice. He hated his father for the dust and sand and hard labor that made up his days. 

    More than all of this, however, Adam hated his father because he could no longer see his face. That he couldn’t hear his voice in the air, or feel his hand on his back. Adam hated his father for taking Eden away from him, all in the name of love. And Adam hated his father because more than anything, he missed him. 

    So on the eighth day Adam made god. He took the rotting pools of red, green, and blue, shoved it in the solid sand he manufactured himself, and called it a god. He made god in his own image, because he could no longer recognize his father in himself. And Adam refused to allow his god the choice his Father gave him, for that is what caused his own pain in the first place. His son could do many things, but he would never be an artist. 

    And this new god lived in the dust and sand his father built him from. And in that time the god had no capacity to be anything other than what his father wished for him to be. So his father would come to him each day with new colors for him to replicate, of which he could only do so around half of the time. And the ground became littered with paper from trees long burned to the ground, filled with pictures of men and women the god never knew. 

    But eventually, time passed, and the winds would rage on. And in the winds of time the sand that made up the god would need to harden in order to withstand the changing weather. So in the middle of the dry landscape there stood a towering, shining god made of glass. 

    And when Adam, his father, arrived again, he called this god very good. For finally, the image of god had become his own reflection. And he no longer felt alone.

  • A Letter from March 3rd, 2020

    A Letter from March 3rd, 2020

    Hi Connor!

    The day I’m writing this is March 3rd, 2020. You probably don’t remember this, but [REDACTED – TEACHER] has given you an assignment to write to your future self, five years from now. I’m not sure what everyone else is writing about, but I have a pretty good idea as to what to ask you. 

    Connor, 

    First of all, you need to invest in a calendar app. I’ve had one for a while and it actually changed my life when I started really using it. But since I didn’t have one it took a Google Drive deep dive for me to rediscover this doc, now in the year 2026. So I apologize for being a year late to your response. I hope the mail you receive through the timeline doesn’t catch you off guard. I’m happy to answer your questions. 

    Are there flying cars in the future? I’m just kidding, I’m guessing there aren’t. But it wouldn’t be a future question if I didn’t ask that. 

    There have been flying cars for a few years now, but that’s hardly an investment people want to pursue. Flying cars mean flying car laws, and I don’t trust that that won’t cause some mass hysteria. So nobody’s made a flying car that is commercially viable. Self-driving cars are the hot thing right now, but you’re not quite ready to get in one yet. 

    By the time you’re reading this, you should be wrapping up your first year of teaching band! How did your first show go? My guess is probably not great, but you’re still learning! I hope that the students like you at least. I made regionals this year again on bass clarinet, but I won’t be doing all state since I’m going to be out of town for a vacation. I wish I could say I wasn’t bummed out about that a little bit. I’m super excited for the vacation though! It’s just my last chance to make it. I wish I could do both, but everything’s been all set up and doing it online wouldn’t be fair.

    You are going to realize that band was a terrific way to make friends, but when it comes to the art of teaching it, that isn’t a path that you have an interest in pursuing. No spoilers, but something is about to happen that is going to reframe a lot of your perception on this stuff. I am comfortably at a point to say with complete certainty that I still have no idea what I want to do with my life. And I can confidently say as well that what I want to do matters less than what I am called to do. I often fight God on this fact, but he’s the one making the circumstances, I simply walk through them hoping that I come out the other side better for it. And it’s often that I do. 

    You’re probably laughing at how silly my problems are. I get it. I can’t stop my feelings about it, but I can focus on the cool things ahead. How did the trip go? You’ve already experienced it by this point. 

    You are just as complete of a person as me. Meaning, your problems hold the same weight as mine. In hindsight, you’ll realize that most drama in the world comes from people who don’t understand this fact. The trip was a great one, you’re going to love Florida. 

    Do we still talk to [REDACTED]? Or anyone from high school? I hope so. I’ve made a lot of new friends this year alone. Being a drum major and a senior has its perks I guess. Did [REDACTED] do well after you graduated?

    You consistently talk to one person from high school, though it’s probably the last person you’re thinking of right now. When you reconnect with him, be sure to hold onto that friendship as long as you can. He may be the most reliable person you know. And by now, you know a lot of different people. 

    As for the others, they seem to be doing fine. You catch up with a few every now and again, but it’s nothing like it was before. And I know hearing that will break your heart more than anything else I could tell you. You see these people more often than you do your own family at the point you’re writing me in. I’m sorry I couldn’t hold onto those people tighter. Time has a way of loosening grips. It probably won’t be the last time. 

    I know I’m bombarding you with questions, I’m sorry about that. I hope you remember these people, I could be talking complete nonsense. My wish is I’m not. I can’t see a future without these people in it in some capacity, but I’m sure you have a lot of new friends. GCU ended up being our choice, so we’ll see how that ends up. The band program seems great at least. 

    Spoilers on that last point. But yes, my current friends are awesome. You see them at least once a week, and often you’ll at least hear from them multiple times a week. I’m mature enough to know that I’m moving at a different pace from them though. I often fear that when they take flight, I’ll still be growing my feathers. That thing that’s about to happen that I told you about earlier? I’m still learning to trust things to be consistent since that happened. 

    Life often looks like a natural disaster more than a guided path. You’ll find yourself in a sinkhole a couple of times. Honestly, as I write this, you might be in the deepest hole you’ve ever found yourself in. But luckily you’ve surrounded yourself with people who are experts in climbing ladders, and they’re happy to guide you through the process. 

    How’s Mom and Dad? I’m guessing Tyler’s still with them. How is he? Has anything big happened since when I’m writing? Do they still drag you to church, or did you end up going somewhere else?

    I’ve come to realize that family’s really the main thing holding me above water most days. I call my parents practically everyday, and see them at least once a week. Tyler’s doing a lot better. He’s the most independent I’ve ever seen him. He’s probably got more of a social life than I do at this point, which you probably don’t believe. 

    You eventually find a church you can call home, at least in this stage of your life. You eventually drag your parents to that church as well. I know finding a church you fit in sounds like an impossibility. You had a hard time fitting into your youth groups, and I’m sorry that that happened. You didn’t deserve that. And you still doubt, all the time. Because that is a normal thing to do. But at the end of the day, you figure that Heaven has to exist. It’s much more convenient that way. 

    And I guess my biggest question is this: are you happy? Selfishly, I hope you are. I hope everything worked out, even though I know it probably didn’t, at least not how I think it will. But I hope, no matter what, you’re happy on the other side. I’m writing you at 17 years old, when you read this you’ll be well into adulthood. There’s too many sad adults out there. I hope you’re a happy one. 

    There are days where it is easier to be happy than other days. That is because happiness, like all emotions, is a sandy thing. There are days where I can pick up sand in my hand and have it stick to me so much I have to wash it off. And there are days when the wind comes through, and with it, the sand is swept away. I find that chasing after any emotion in particular is about as feasible as putting the wind in a jar. 

    Though, it doesn’t stop me from trying. And what I’ve found is that I am at my happiest when I pursue people, places, and things that actively bring me joy. So I make a space in my heart, so that no matter what wind comes through, I still find time to pursue those things. And because of that joy, I find myself with more happy days than sad ones. 

    Adulthood doesn’t really make you realize anything new. It just reframes things you already know. Most days I have a hard time believing I am an adult, though I have been one for six years now. I suppose I will be convincing myself and others that I am an adult until I die, a long way from now. 

    Thank you dearly for writing to me, Connor. You’ve made this day a happy one. I hope to see you soon. 

    Much Love,

    Connor Geroux

  • The Boy and the Bear

    The Boy and the Bear

    In a green forest with towering trees and brambles of bushes lived a boy and a bear. 

    Now the bear had lived in this forest for quite a long time. So when it came across the boy for the first time, it was unlike anything the bear had seen. It looked to have been wearing thin furs unknown to the bear. Thin cottons and denim for legs. Yet, despite these differences, the bear found the boy and him had many things in common: messy hair, large ears, and a love for rolling in the grass. So the bear took the boy in as one of its own.

    But the bear had lived in the forest for a long time. And it knew that one day, as it does every year, a large, white blanket would cover the forest. The blanket was the perfect time to take a loooong nap, and the bear had plans to do just that. It had picked out a nice cave for itself so it may take a looooong nap when the white blanket falls down. 

    But the bear now had the boy. And so, one day, the bear took the boy to a babbling brook, and said this to him:

    “Look here, boy. This is how you chomp with your mouth.”

    And the bear opened its gaping jaw, and a large salmon flung into it. It then crunched down on the salmon, gulping it down into one bite. 

    The boy, seeing this, leaned his small head to the side of the river, and opened wide. And when a salmon flung at the boy’s head, his mouth was too small to bite down on it. So SMACK! It hit him square on the cheek. 

    Now the bear was worried. How will the boy eat when he takes his loooong nap? And it turned its head in shame. 

    But the boy laughed at the matter, and grabbed a rock. His eyes squinted, as he threw it into the river. And in the ripples of the current, a salmon floated to the top. And the boy now had a fish. 

    Another day, the bear took the boy to a large pine tree, and said this to him:

    “Look here, boy. This is how you scratch with your legs.”

    And the bear leaned his furry back against the tree, moving his body up and down. How it loved the sensation! And after its massage, it plopped itself onto the ground and wiggled around in the leaves and branches. 

    The boy, seeing this, leaned its back to the tree and did the same. But a yelp was sounded from the boy. His back was red, with small bits of wood stuck to it. He quickly scrambled to pick the splinters off of his back. 

    Now the bear was worried. How will the boy find comfort when he takes his loooong nap? And it turned its head in shame.

    But the boy laughed at the matter, and grabbed a branch that the bear had wiggled in, and used it to scratch his back. And the boy had a new walking stick. 

    Now, at this point, the bear believed itself to be a bad teacher. But it knew that the white blanket was just around the corner. And when it laid itself down, many creeping beasts would try to poke their heads among the forest. So the bear asked a nearby fox to help him with a lesson.

    And on another day, the bear took the boy to the fox hole, and said this to him:

    “Look here, boy. This is how you roar with your chest.”

    And as the fox poked its head out of its hole, the bear got up on its back legs and roared a mighty roar. As it did, the birds rustled themselves out of their nests, and the fox hurried away, back into it’s small home it had made for the blanket. 

    The boy, seeing this, took a large breath. And when the fox poked its head out of its hole, the boy yelped as loud as he could. But instead, the fox laughed at the boy!

    “You sound just like a small fox cub!” The fox proclaimed!

    Now the bear was worried. How will the boy protect himself when the creeping beasts come? And it turned away in shame.

    But the boy furrowed its brow, and began to stomp its feet. And the sound from the ground made a deep groan with each foot step. And the fox’s laughs turned into small whimpers, as it scurried into his hole, the lesson in his mind clearly over. And the boy learned to stomp.

    But the time had come for the blanket to fall. But the last moments before the bear’s looooong nap were ones of fear. How could the boy the bear had grown fond of possibly live in the large blanket? So the bear looked to the boy before it closed its eyes, and said this to him:

    “I am sorry boy. You didn’t learn to chomp with your mouth, scratch with your legs, or roar from your chest. I am afraid I am not very good at teaching bears.”

    But the boy simply laughed at the matter, and stood up in the bear cave. He grabbed a stone and threw it perfectly into the log fire. He took a stick and scratched his back. And he stomped, and stomped and stomped until the leaves in the cave bounced along with him. And the boy leaned in front of the bear’s gaping maw and said this to it:

    “Silly bear! You took me to the river, played near the towering trees, and let me make friends with Mr. Fox.”

    And the bear would not know what would happen when the blanket would fall. But as it looked at the boy with messy hair and large ears rolling in the grass, this occurred to it:

    Perhaps I didn’t need to teach him to be a bear at all.