Poets is powered by Vocal creators. You support Violet Lavoski by reading, sharing and tipping stories... more

Poets is powered by Vocal.
Vocal is a platform that provides storytelling tools and engaged communities for writers, musicians, filmmakers, podcasters, and other creators to get discovered and fund their creativity.

How does Vocal work?
Creators share their stories on Vocal’s communities. In return, creators earn money when they are tipped and when their stories are read.

How do I join Vocal?
Vocal welcomes creators of all shapes and sizes. Join for free and start creating.

To learn more about Vocal, visit our resources.

Show less

Shelf Life

Descriptive Story

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash


Under the harsh fluorescent lights, there I sit. Years and years of my life spent up here, all alone yet surrounded by others just like me. In the deafening sound of my own silence, I can only recall my years of service and the heartfelt stories I've told.

My stiff fabric outer shell, becoming dull and faded with the light kisses of the sun’s powerful rays. My once magnificent navy blue color, now taken from me, and in its place an obnoxious light brown softly touched with beige spreading across my body. The change is bittersweet, as my time is surely coming to an end, I like to think of my changing color as battle scars, formed as I was fighting the war on boredom. My subtle yet empowering golden detail, delicately placed right in the middle of my otherwise plain body as to show off my worth, surely defines who I am. Yet many do not know me at all. It is true what they say, what matters is on the inside, for if you dare to look past my uninviting exterior, you will be entranced with the story I tell and how long I've been telling it.

My story starts on a crisp afternoon in November of 1963. It was a special day for me, for I was young and hot off the press. My color was fresh, a royal navy blue accented with a rich golden swirl right in the middle. I stood erect and proud to be where I was, honored to have made it this far. Those were the days. Before I sadly became out of style. As the years dragged by, I sat patiently waiting for my next use. My body thinly layered in a coating of dust due to the lack of movement around me. My once erect spine, now peeling apart slowly, slumping down my body. My once crisp smell, now masked by a musty one. There's no hiding it, I was growing older by the minute and fading out of relevancy. The only thing I managed to keep intact was my story.

So here I sit, five towering shelves up in the literature section of this bustling community college, right on the edge of sadness. I don't know what is to become of myself. Surely I hope one day I am used again. My body may be old, but my story is still, and always will be full of life.

Now Reading
Shelf Life
Read Next
I'm a Girl