A lust letter to October
I've been hiding something...
Dear October,
You know my secret. The self that I keep hidden. Locked away in the shadows for every other month of the year.
But as your arrival creeps closer, I feel the chains loosening. Chip, chip, chip. I no longer have the will to keep it back.
By the 1st of October, all rules dissipate. I become feral.
I truly believe that everyone has their soul season. Perhaps this is dictated by our birth date or an early childhood experience. Or simply we feel drawn to the times of year where we can indulge in favourite hobbies, be it swimming or snowboarding.
For me, that season has always been and will always be autumn. And you, October, are autumn personified.
My attraction to you feels inevitable. I’m someone who prefers the skeletons of flowers over fresh blooms. I relish sparse winter beaches with bitter winds. Feel connected to drab, grey moths over showy butterflies. Prefer the rotting scent of fungus and damp moss over freshly mown lawns.
I shy away from sunshine but cannot resist a gloomy day. Rain, wind, hail, snow. Where it feels like the elements are finally matching the wildness in my heart. Running barefoot in thunderstorms or melting into mist. Hiding my secrets in the still, slippery air.
I’ve always felt this draw to darkness.
As a child, I found the traditional Disney princesses drab and monotonous. I preferred the bleak, tragic tales, like The Hunchback of Notre Dame, or, my all-time favourite, Pocahontas, with its decidedly unhappy ending.
I vividly remember lying on my childhood bed, with my tape player headphones firmly clamped over my ears, listening to Pocahontas soundtrack on repeat. Letting the tears stream down my face as I relived this doomed love story.
Reading Wuthering Heights in my teens cemented this love affair with all things Gothic. This morbid attraction to depressing tales in spooky settings. And your arrival, October, gives me the perfect excuse to indulge in my favourite kind of story.
Don’t misunderstand me, I have an affection for all the seasons in their own way. I can admire the fragile beauty of spring, the radiance of summer and the striking allure of winter.
But they lack the urgency of you. The hunger. The lust.
It is the dying that draws me in. The dramatic shifts in colour palette. Leaves that are no longer restricted to one colour. They can be multiple different hues, all at the same time. Each one more spectacular that the last.
When you arrive, my emotions become unravelled and my creativity spikes violently. Words come tumbling out faster than my pencil can scratch. Syllables left scattered in notebooks. Too raw to share. Until now.
You bring out a side of myself I’ve never quite understood, but have learnt to accept and cherish.
A someone that wants to escape to wild, remote locations. Beyond the scope of societies judgements and expectations.
Someone who lives in stories and believes that magic is real.
And yet, I know our time together is limited. Your arrival is tinged with grief as I’m already mourning your inevitable passing.
That’s why, this year, I’ve captured our romance with this letter. So that I can remember you and the person I become when you are here.
And, as always, I will treasure each moment we have together until the very end.
That is my promise.
All my love,
Molly xx
Hello reader, I’m Molly, a full time creator based in the Scottish Highlands. Read more from me by clicking subscribe. I’d love you have you join our slow community…🍂
I love this Molly. Your writing here is wonderfully evocative. Autumn, in particular October, is like a second Spring I think, especially the fungi.
Your letter brings to mind a memory of walking on my local Clifftops as a teenager late one October afternoon. As I looked out over the wild sea, the wind picked up and gusted round and through me; massive light shifting through clouds and the lowering sun. At that moment, at the edge of the world, I connected with something far deeper - something both within and outside of me - a feral spirit, as you describe. This moment is etched in my mind and body. I can still feel it.
Wishing you a very happy rest-of-October, I hope it is full of gloomy days and gloomy tales and warm soup and all things that bring you joy. Thank you Molly x
As someone who lives in a subtropical climate but dislikes the heat, (my husband‘s work brought us here), I absolutely loved reading this Molly.
Autumn is my favourite season as well, though I have to search deeper to find it where I live.
Nothing lifts my heart more than seeing autumn in all its glory. I have beautiful autumn scenes on my walls at home, so I can enjoy a little bit of this magnificent season every day.
I am so glad I found your YouTube channel. There is a large age gap between us, but what you say about the seasons and their effects on you really resonates with me. I am in my 60s and it has taken me this long to realise that I wasn’t the only one that preferred autumn winter to summer!