Flash contest #16: Write about a character waiting for something, but don’t reveal what they’re waiting for until the end. The week commencing July 20th (Daily Creativity prompt #86) was our seventeenth week of flash contests, with a challenge set by former contributor Ana Rowell, 15, who also helped us judge this week’s contest. Thank you, Anna! This prompt produced lots of entries, all of them filled with suspense. You obviously all had fun structuring your stories to keep us guessing about what we were waiting for, and even who or what it was that was waiting (animal, vegetable or mineral)! Our favourites kept us waiting until the end to find out what was really going on; and made us go back to the beginning to pick up the subtle hints we might not have piked up first time. Well done everyone for your work on this challenge, and especially to our winners and honorable mentions, listed below. Read on after the list of winners to enjoy the winners’ work for yourselves. Winners “Stalling” by Sophia Do, 12 (Lititz, PA) “Rain” by Kyler Min, 9 (Vienna, VA) “Waiting for a Comet” by Madeline Sornson, 13 (La Jolla, CA) “From the Other Side of the Road” by Amruta Krishnan Srinivasan, 9 (San Jose, CA) “Wait for it . . .” by Ian Xie, 12 (Weston, MA) Honorable Mention “The Waiting Game” by Elsa N. Ahern, 10 (Winnetka, IL) “The Waiting Hill” by Liam Hancock, 12 (Danville, CA) “Cats of War and Peace” by Sneha Jiju, 12 (Chandler, AZ) “The Woman” by April Yu, 12 (East Brunswick, NJ) “Something Worth Waiting For” by Mila Zhao, 6 (Blue Ash, OH) Also, look out on our COVID-19 blog next week for “The Goal” by Ziva Ye, 9 (Overland Park, KS), which both responds to the contest prompt and tells a great story related to the current pandemic–from a very unexpected perspective! Sophia Do, 12Lititz, PA Stalling Sophia Do, 12 Ella paced the floor. Come on, come on! she thought and started to jump and down. Hurry, hurry! People passed by and looked at her funny. Ella stopped jumping and stood up straight. Just act normal, she told herself. You can’t look suspicious. You never know who your enemies are. “Hi,” a woman with a short pixie cut hair said. “Is this the women’s?” “Yes,” Ella said and crossed her legs. The woman walked to the back of the line that went out of the door. Ugh, why are the lines always so long? The Council really needed to rethink this. “Hey, Ella!” A girl with blonde hair and blue tips bounced up to her, hands still damp from washing. “I thought you couldn’t come to the mall today?” “Oh, hi Mary Anne ” Ella said, and silently cursed the Council. Why did they have to send her to the mall? “I thought I had to, um, visit my grandma.” “I thought you said your grandma lived in California?” Mary Anne asked. “My other grandma,” Ella fibbed. “What are you doing here?” “Just hanging out with the girls,” Mary Anne said. “After you do your thing, do you want to hang out with us? We haven’t done a girls’ day at the mall in forever!” “Oh, uh, sure,” Ella said. “I’ll meet you by the food court.” “Great!” Mary Anne said and flounced out of the bathroom. Why? Why? Why? Ella groaned. This is bad. Now I have to make up an excuse for why I didn’t meet up with her! A couple more minutes passed and Ella was starting to worry. If I’m not there in time the Council is going to kill me. Adam said the meeting is important. What is taking this person so long!? Finally, the line moved forward and Ella was soon inside. She peeked under the first stall and saw it was occupied. “Excuse me?” A small voice asked. “Do you mind if I cut in front of you?” Ella turned around and an older petite woman smiled up at her, adding more lines to her already wrinkled face. “I’m sorry, but I really have to go!” “Oh, of course,” Ella said and let the woman cut in front of her. Ella bit her lip, hoping that the next door to open wasn’t the one that she wanted. Thankfully, the last door in the line of stalls opened and the little old lady walked in. A few more minutes passed and another door opened in the middle of the hall of stalls, “Ms,” the pregnant woman behind her said, “that one’s open.” “Oh, you can go,” Ella said, “I like this one.” She motioned to the one that she was standing in front of. The pregnant lady gave her a weird look and moved on. Finally, the door that Ella wanted opened and a woman in red high heels walked out. Ella froze, what was Counselor Rylie doing here? Were they going to kick her out? Counselor Rylie brushed past Ella and shoved something in her hand. When she was gone, Ella unfolded her hand and opened up the piece of paper. Second Floor. Ella cursed, “Excuse me,” she said and pushed her way out of the room. She passed Mary Anne by the food court. “Are you done?” she called. “No, sorry! Line was too long!” Ella called back and beelined for the stairs. Taking the stairs two at a time, she made a sharp right and screeched to a stop, staring at another long line. Wow, were they giving out free drinks at the food court today? she thought as she went to the back of the line. Minutes passed, but unlike the other line, this one moved faster. Ella looked at the piece of paper again to make sure that she was at the right one. What was wrong with the other one? She thought. We really need a better way to do this. Finally, she was at the front of the line. Ella paced anxiously and
Contests
Flash contest #16: Write an unsettling poem. Our Winners and their Work!
Flash contest #16: Write an unsettling poem Create a poem with an eerie or creepy tone. You can make the poem as nonsensical or as relatable as possible, but retain the sense of being unsettled throughout. Liam Hancock, 12Danville, CA The week commencing July 13th (Daily Creativity prompt #81) was our sixteenth week of flash contests, with a sinister challenge set by contributor and writing workshop member Liam Hancock, 13. It seems everyone had plenty of scary stuff to get out of their systems–we had an absolute record number of entries this week: more than 70! Well done Liam for setting such a terrifically inspiring challenge, and thank you for all your work helping us read and judge our huge pile. It was really fun working with you. We were looking for the creepiest, most unsettling poems for our winners’ list, and we certainly found them! While all our winners had slightly different subjects, all of them built tension through their poems to a frankly terrifying end; and they showed us that while sinister, creepy, eerie things often come at night, these feelings can be evoked in broad daylight, too. The honorable mentions were equally varied, moving between suspense, nightmares, death, unexplained disappearances–and even managing to make a butterfly into something sinister. Well done, everyone. Also, there were a few entries that didn’t place in the contest, but which we will share with everyone on our COVID-19 blog in the coming weeks–well done to Samson Brown, 13; Madi Frank, 11; Eleanor Levy, 8; Lucas Lin, 11; Aviva Rosenstock, 9; Olivia Wang, 10. Thank you to all of you who entered and successfully unsettled the judges, and special congratulations to all of our worthy winners! Winners “In the Light of the Red Moon” by Katherine Bergsieker, 12, Denver, CO “Something Peculiar” by Fern Hadley, 11, Cary, NC “Shattered” by Meleah Goldman, 10, Oakland, CA “Count Them Down” by Ella Yamamura, 12, Cary, NC “A Little Off” by Keira Zhang, 12, Belmont, MA Highly Commended “Lucid Dreams” by Aiden Avedissian, 9, Valley Glen, CA “Tick Tock” by Morgan Dodd, 13, Portland, OR “When Mark Went Missing…” by Daniel Shorten, 9, Mallow, Ireland “Lifeless Vessels” by Ismini Vasiloglou, 11, Atlanta, GA “The Butterfly” by Michela You, 11, Lexington, MA You can brace yourselves and read the winning entries for this week below, and catch up with previous weeks’ contests and winners at the Flash Contest Winners Roll page. Katherine Bergsieker, 12Denver, CO In the Light of the Red Moon Katherine Bergsieker, 12 When the light of the red moon Illuminates the night You can see what normally stays tucked away, Hidden. The tree, unveiling Its gnarled branches To grab unsuspecting people. The bird without a head That only dares to come out When protected by the red moon’s light. The flowers, digging Themselves up, Through their dehydrated roots. The grass, silently Whispering gibberish That must mean something To someone. And a girl, all alone In the eerily silent Lake, Unaware of the odd actions From those around her. Looking ghastly As the starlight and red moon Highlight her almost lifeless eyes, She treads water Effortlessly. A part of her face Chips off into the water. Then another. “It is time,” She whispers In her own language, Blowing a kiss to the lake. She lifts her head Up to the stars, Softly murmuring. The stars shift As though in a Ghostly, parallel Universe. Then they grab the girl, Pulling her towards them. Her hair floats underneath her, Her eyes peacefully closed, Looking as though She is lying on a board, Arms outstretched. But she isn’t. She’s floating. Tiny bits and pieces Of her Permanently embedded into the lake, As dark as the night sky that it rests underneath, Singing chilling songs To the girl Flying In the dark, Forgotten Atmosphere, Illuminated by the ghostly light Of the red moon. Fern Hadley, 11 Cary, NC Something Peculiar Fern Hadley, 11 Meleah Goldman, 10Oakland, CA Shattered Meleah Goldman, 10 The perfect duplicate of myself, looking back at me with piercing blue eyes, through the fragile glass of a mirror. I confide in her my every move. Her rippleless dark hair sun kissed skin her muted face identical to mine. Reflections, mysterious and eerie things. You in another parallel land, Does she know what world my thoughts have created; what I am saying? I try to touch the girl in the mirror as she tries to touch me yet only feel the cold, stinging, hardened surface of the glass. I look back at my own stabbing blue eyes. I hear a crack The mirror shatters. The fragmented remains of the mirror Shows my own reflection, Now cracked and frail. In the jagged edges of the mirror, I see a silhouette that is not mine. Eyes like bottomless black holes; forever churning in hunger. Its alarmingly faded face . . . Thump . . . Thump . . . THUMP Ella Yamamura, 12Cary, NC Count Them Down Ella Yamamura, 12 Keira Zhang, 12Belmont, MA A Little Off Keira Zhang, 12 The sun bounced off of her ivory skin This was a day to forget about him Best friends till death he lied In the end, there was no surprise Everyone she loved, left her; the word she came to know was: betray But she would try to forget about it today There was a new fair not too far Maybe the happiness would drag her out the dark Not a single cloud in sight The sun gleamed oh, so bright Kids littered the place Licking ice cream with a smiling face But even with the pastel candy floss Even with the famous ring toss Even with screams of adrenaline Even with the popcorn tins There was something off about this place Something a little off about this case Everyone was too happy Something about this world felt nasty As she looked around once more She saw something that made her sick to the core Their
Flash Contest #15: Write a Story or Poem Inspired by a Renoir Painting: Our Winners and Their Work!
Flash contest #15: Write a story or poem inspired by a Renoir painting. The week commencing July 6 (Daily Creativity Prompt #76) was our fifteenth week of flash contests, with a prompt that took us back to the scene of Pierre-Auguste Renoir’s painting, Dance at Le Moulin de la Galette. Our entrants wrote a story or poem inspired by Renoir’s painting this week. We received more entires than we expected, and, as always, enjoyed reading all of the writings that were submitted. It was fun to see how differently many of you approached imagining going into the scene in the painting: the judges read everything from mystery stories to poems written from the perspective of the lamps in the trees (a couple of our Highly Commended choices)! One of our winning writers this week also sent an updated version of the painting, apparently made for her by Renoir himself, to go with her story (thanks, Ruby!). Well done to all of our entrants, and particular congratulations to all of our Winners and Honorable Mentions! See below for all of their names, and keep reading to experience the writing created by our winners. Winners “The Brendon Disappointment” by Lucy Berberich, 11, Oxford, OH “Paris in a Painting” by Fern Hadley, 11, Cary, NC “Let There Be Cake!” by James Hou, 10, Short Hills, NJ “Summer Day” by Samuel McMullin, 10, Portland, ME “A Taste of Bal du Moulin de la Galette” & its illustration “Travelling back to Moulin de la Galette,” by Ruby Xu, 10, Annandale, VA Honorable Mentions “Lost Lisette in a Crowd” by Joyce Hong, 10, Oakville, ON “Allia T. and the Case of the Disappearing Violinist” by Naomi Kap, 11 “An Atypical Guest at the Moulin de la Galette” by Amruta Krishnan Srinivasan, 9, San Jose, CA “Mama’s Mask” by Michela You, 11, Lexington, MA “The Journal Entry of a Pessimistic Person” by Charlotte Zhang, 11, Portland, OR Lucy Berberich, 11Oxford, OH The Brendon Disappointment Lucy Berberich, 11 The music is loud and joyous, and the smell of popcorn and drinks in the air made the occasion all the more bright. The young Wendy Brendon, dressed in a dark magenta gown, is sitting at a table, swinging her legs back and forth to the music, eyes dancing with glee. She was only thirteen, but she’d already attended several festivals like this one. They never failed to brighten her mood, though. Wendy was a cheerful young girl and almost never had a frown on her face. This day was no exception. She was grinning eagerly, taking in everything around her like it was all a new sight. Her parents were dancing off to the side, giving her a sideways glance every now and then, wondering if she was going to do something other than sit and stare. She hadn’t planned on it. She just enjoyed watching. All the happy people, dancing, laughing. It was nice just to see them, even if she didn’t join in herself. As the wind picked up a bit, Wendy felt her hair blowing around her head, the little hat that sat atop it tilting and threatening to fly away. She knew if she let her outfit get mussed up her mother would be livid. Mama Brendon was quite strict and cared an awful lot about her daughter’s appearance. Wendy wasn’t a beauty queen, no boy ever looked twice at her, and Mama Brendon was always trying to find out why, what the reason was for this. Papa Brendon couldn’t care less, and was always taking Wendy out to the market or to work with him to let her get away from her mother’s hovering. Perhaps part of the reason Wendy loved these events was because her mother was distracted and didn’t have time to fuss over her. Her parents were quite the big-shots in the town business. Her father owned a huge company that ran quite a lot of the town, and her mother was a member of almost every club, board, and organization in the vicinity. They were well-known, and were always getting invited to things. Her parents didn’t enjoy them like she did; they just didn’t want to decline and seem impolite. Her parents were obsessed with being polite. So the fact that Wendy never even got up, or danced, or took part in the events at all was quite a disappointment to her parents. She was so carefree and all around un-ladylike that she was ridiculed and looked down upon by most of the residents of the town. Not that it mattered to Wendy. She wanted people to like her, sure. But she wanted them to like her for her, not because she acted like her mother, or, god forbid, her elder sister, who was the perfect child. They didn’t get along, and Wendy didn’t want to be anything like her. Maria was shallow. She had no personality, no ambition, no goals, nothing that she strived for. Wendy didn’t want to be like that, a doormat for people who treated her like garbage because she was “the weaker sex”. That wasn’t who she was, or who she would ever be. She wanted to enjoy life to the fullest, experiencing all the things that men could experience. So for the time being, she’d act the way she wanted to act. Grin from ear to ear, eat whatever she wanted, talk the way she wanted to talk. She was going to be who she wanted to be. People, her parents, her sister, and everyone, would just have to learn to deal with her. Simple as that. Fern Hadley, 11 Cary, NC Paris in a Painting Fern Hadley, 11 I gaze at the painting blankly. Is this meant to be a powerful piece of artwork? I ask myself. Because I’m not feeling its power. Confused, I wonder if I can call myself an art lover if I don’t understand art at all. Making an effort to understand the painting, I study the image before me. My eyes,
