Des Peele Creative Writing Sample

Last Thursday, I took the metro to Peel and then walked north up Peel to the mountain’s edge. The mountain was rather busy given that it was a week day. It’s really an easy trek once you’re downtown, all you have to do is find the mountain, and begin walking up towards the base. The air was particularly crisp on this chilly October morning which blended well with vibrant coloring of the trees. When I reached the outskirts of the mountain at Peel and av. des Pins Ouest, I began to climb the stairs to a wrap around path that leads to the top. It was a vibrant mix of locals and tourists (obviously so) as well as a large group of people with marathon numbers taped to their chests. At one point I was mistaken for a marathon runner which was weird

At first, I was trying to find it on a map and then I stupidly realized it was the statue I sit next to at tam tam’s. After looking at the statue, for what felt like the first time, I walked over to a memorial plaque decorated with ladybugs. That was the first time I even noticed the plaque’s existence and one of the first times I’d actually noticed most of the objects surrounding this area. It was unusually quiet around the statue; it almost felt like I was alone. I began to wander around in search for other artifacts that I may had missed before but before I could do so, it began to rain. At first it was just some sprinkles so I decided to tough it out and wait for the rain the clear. During this time I walked up to the statue and placed my hand on the side of its foundation. The statue was cold and damp. It was the first time since moving to Montreal that I’d actually touched it. As the sprinkles turned to drops I became aware of my unpreparedness for the weather and started running back into the brush of the mountain to take cover from the

Abraham Klein grew up at the foot of this mountain in Mile End/Plateau area—so in many ways—the mountain was his backyard. The poem The Mountain ask’s how one reacts to their surroundings and how they’re informed by ideas of history as well as one’s own history. I’m not from Montreal but I have lived here for 5 years now and the mountain happens to conjure up memories for me as well. I remember the first time I climbed up one of the more woodsy paths and happened upon a clearing that I named “Aladdin’s apartment” (mainly because it looked like Aladdin’s bachelor pad in the ficitional city og Agrabah). Though this memory isn’t embedded in my early childhood it still feels like some sort of adolescent period in my life. I stuck this memory in a class of innocence and immaturity. For me, it represents a piece of my history; the first time I made my home in a new