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
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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,
Flash Contest #14: Write About a Pivotal Change in the Weather. Our Winners and Their Work!
Weekly Flash Contest #14: Write a poem or a story where a sudden change in the weather provides a pivotal point. The week commencing June 29th (Daily Creativity prompt #71) was our fourteenth week of flash contests–and we would not have guessed so many of you would be inspired by the weather! We had a record number of entries (more than 50 this week), and we were, as usual, very impressed. Everyone brought to life various weather events–from blizzards to rainstorms–in varying forms–from poems (including concrete poems) to prose. The judges had a hard time battling through all those changes in temperature, but in the end we emerged, windswept and drenched, into the warm sunshine of decisions made. Well done to everyone who entered, but particular congratulations to those who made it with us through the storm as Honorable Mentions and Winners. See below for all their names, and read the whole blog post to experience the weather conjured up by our top-placed winners. Winners “Cabin Catastrophe” by Isabel Bashaw, 10, Enumclaw, WA “Michi and Kieto” by Lucy Berberich, 11, Oxford, OH “Transformation” by Sofie Dardzinski, 9, Potomac, MD “A Line of Cars” by Wesley Moniz, 9, Belmont, MA “The Hotel of Angels” by Emerson Swift, 12, Mill Valley, CA Honorable Mention “The Flower’s Lesson” by Audrey Fan, 10, Cary, NC “Driftwood on the Sea” by Meleah Goldman, 10, Oakland, CA “Rain” by Misha Nasarpuri, 12, Portland, OR “Rose After Rain” by Amruta Krishnan Srinivasan, 9, San Jose, CA “The Money Rain” by Cici Zou, 11, Concord, MA Isabel Bashaw, 10Enumclaw, WA Cabin Catastrophe Isabel Bashaw, 10 ¨Dad! Where did you put my slippers?? I can’t find them!¨ Hi, my name is Bella. I live in Seal Rock, Oregon. It’s spring break, so my family went on a trip from the damp Oregon coast where we live, to even damper forests in the mountains. We were staying in the same small, cozy cabin we always did, but this year it seemed to be raining even more than usual. It was nearly time for dinner, and our family was almost done unpacking. ¨I don’t know honey!” replied my Dad. ¨Check in the bags.¨ I rolled my eyes, since obviously I already had. I gave one last glance at my bedroom before I walked out. My bed was creaky, but the rest was fine. There was an antique dresser, where I had put my clothes and my ipad, as well as an old wooden bookshelf. Each year I neatly lined up the collection of books I would read that week. Deciding that I must have left my slippers at home, I sat in an old armchair and looked out the window. The misty fog had drifted away (thank goodness), but in its place a slow drizzle showered the forest. Dull gray clouds wandered along the dark sky, but the cheerful cabin was cozy. There were radiators for heat, so I put my cold toes on one to warm up. The cabin was at least as warm as our own house in Seal Rock, but each year my little sister, Lola, still insisted on having Dad light a fire in the fireplace every day. ¨Well, time for dinner! Dish up!¨ my Mom said as I walked into the kitchen. I took a slice of sourdough bread and a bit of salad, but nothing else. Lola took the opposite: roasted potatoes, broccoli, and chicken. I despised anything roasted or burned, and I didn’t eat meat. For some reason my parents made whatever dinner they wanted to anyway. I nibbled at my bread and picked at my salad. I never really wanted to leave home to visit this small cabin. I didn’t like nature walks or rain (or worst of all, nature walks in the rain). I preferred the idea of tropical climates, five star hotels, and crystal clear oceans with white, sandy beaches. ¨Bella. You hardly have any food and you aren’t even touching that! Are you sick? Do you feel alright?¨ Mom looked at me, worried. I shrugged. ¨Can I go to bed?¨ I asked, not wanting to eat. Mom sighed. ¨Okay, go ahead. I´ll come and tuck you in after dinner.¨ As she picked up my plate I went back to my room and got into my pajamas. I clambered into my soft bed, and read until I heard Mom coming up. I turned off the lamplight and shoved my book under my pillow. Pretending to be asleep, I closed my eyes as my mom kissed me on the forehead and whispered, ¨Goodnight, Bella.¨ After she left the room, I pulled out my flashlight and read until dark. Then I put my book on top of my dresser, and laid on my back, trying to sleep. After a while my eyelids felt heavy, and I drifted off to sleep. … BOOM!! BOOM!! I shot up in bed. Was this a nightmare, or real thunder? I couldn’t tell. I rolled over on my side, trying to get back to sleep. BOOM!! BOOM!! It was louder this time. I tried to ignore the noise and just go back to sleep, but it just went on. I couldn’t sleep, and it was all nature’s fault. I bet it wasn´t thundering back at the beach, where my friends were probably hanging out at a sleepover, playing video games and having fun. I sleepily got out of my bed, and shuffled down to the kitchen, dimly lit by one light. I made myself hot cocoa to try to make myself drowsy again. As I sipped it, I looked out the window into the pouring rain. It was all blackness, but during the day we had a great view of the mountainside from here. I was startled out of my thoughts when a great white flash of lighting struck across the midnight sky. Then almost immediately came more booms of thunder. Suddenly Lola appeared in the kitchen doorway. She glanced at my cocoa. ¨I can’t sleep. Can
