Mini Golf

When I played mini-golf as a child I was always fascinated by the buildings. Tiny houses, little castles, minute lighthouses. I always dreamed that there were people that lived there at night. They came out, like fairies in the dusk whenever the parks closed, and opened their small doors and windows to the moonlight, and breathed in the fresh air.

I wanted to crawl into those mini buildings and hideaway. I wanted that magic. As I grew up I, of course, realized this was ridiculous and the realization that these were just hollow structures killed my childhood thoughts of magic. The mini-golf place where I live while still functioning is in dire need of repairs and a good coat of paint. I am terrible at mini-golf to this day, but sometimes when I go, I still find myself glancing at the windows of the castle, wondering if there is someone in there.

Categories: Creative Writing, Mental Health, Writing


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