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Weekly Contest #317
CW: References to substance abuse TRACK VII - “Rootless” - Lewis, Lynsi - “THE ALBUM”Bud and alcohol tangoed around her neurons, leaving the Ferris wheel towering above less a Ferris wheel and more a caricature of a Ferris wheel. A pixelated Ferris wheel, rendered in 90hz, 60fps. English became a gibberish that she somehow understood and spoke just as fluently. Each syllable a hiss, bite, a chomp into another…more gibberish. Even Cher’s “If I Could Turn Back Time” sounded like gibberish. Her earlier embarrassment faded into obscurity as apat...
Weekly Contest #300
TRACK VI - “Tickets or Wristbands” - Lewis, Lynsi - “The Album” (TW - substance use, ableist slurs) PJ passed the joint to Isadora. She pinched it and held it to her lips. “Should we get tickets or wristbands?” she asked. “That depends. How long we staying?” PJ scratched the rough, black hairs across his jaw. Isadora shrugged. “How long do you wanna stay?” “I could ask the same thing to you. Do you wanna stay long or…?” Isadora didn’t answer. She took another hit, twisted in the passenger seat, and leaned forward to pass the joint to Lynsi...
Weekly Contest #298
TRACK 5 - “For Isadora” - Lewis, Lynsi - The Album(TW - substance use, one sided relationship, mentions of grooming, internalized ableism)She’d been at the end of the impulse aisle, between rows of candies and energy drinks. The store’s jingle played overhead for probably the twentieth time over the six hours she’d been there. A week prior to that night, Lynsi spent the day doubled over, trying to hold back a cascade of wails that wouldn’t stop. Audacity ran on her laptop in front of her; still, she couldn’t stop the wails long enough to con...
Weekly Contest #297
TRACK 4 - “Anxiety (in Arpeggio)” - Lewis, Lynsi - The Album (substance abuse, suicidal thoughts, grief, provocative / offensive language, mature themes, etc) She should’ve known better by now. Really, by any general estimates, one would assume that a woman who was no more than four feet eleven inches and 110 lbs would have a good idea of how much alcohol her constitution could handle.Apparently not. So here Lynsi was, splattered across the bar counter, barely able to keep her head up to make conversation with the bartender. How had she foun...
Weekly Contest #296
“Splintered Eden” - Composer - Lewis, Lynsi - “The Album” (TW - mature themes, offensive language, parasocial delusions) CAUTION - Tall grass, watch for snakes Lynsi worked up the nerve to lift her head off the Beast’s shoulder and stared at the sign affixed to the fence ahead of her. The surrounding undergrowth had bloomed into prairie grass, the green blades of which plastered themselves unevenly along the rotting wooden stakes. Beyond the fence, floor lights peppered dust in hues and shades of various blue. An announcer no further than...
Weekly Contest #294
TRACK 2 - “Soul Mountain” - Composer, Lewis, Lynsi Birhor galloped through air, whinnying and chirping in simultaneous tones. Lynsi looked down and, though the Eldritch could see her, she could not see them. It was as though they were not there at all. To them, this was simply a stage, a play to behold, while for her it was life as one would experience it. The Beast, on the other hand, knew that both perspectives were equally true in their own right; a fact which he would never tell Lynsi. It didn’t matter much to him whether he was be...
Weekly Contest #260
“…Listen, there’s something weird going down in Neighborhood City, New Jersey. My buddy Jeff went missing a few weeks ago and the cops still haven’t been able to find him. And he’s like the 15th person to have gone missing here in a month. And yeah, he visited ToyzNStuff.” Leo adjusted his mouse and scrolled through the forum. “Oh god. My aunt went missing five months ago and the last time we saw her, she was heading out on some errands. A friend of the family said that she was on her way to ToyzNStuff to pick up some baby clothes for my nep...
Weekly Contest #255
TRACK 1 – “The Castle” – accredited composer – Lewis, Lynsi.The red curtain lifted and the Eldritch silenced its many hands. This audience, made of human and not-so human-shaped silhouettes, inched forward in their red leather seats. An entity of singular and many, it watched the events unfold on stage. After all, what other entertainment was there if not on Earth? With the Modern Plague coming, anything was possible. On stage, the Beast readjusted Lynsi’s bed and set it upright. The Beast stood, smoothed down layers of blankets, and plopped...
Weekly Contest #252
Note - excessive cursing, eldritch abomination The red curtain lifted. The stage was set, and the props were all in their correct places. A full-sized bed next to an open window, a spinning fan behind the window emulating a breeze, and, of course, a khaki-colored desk. A large, coffee-stained desk with disorganized stacks of music sheet paper that practically fell to the floor. It was about a year before the Modern Plague. Everything was different then. The conductor looked to the orchestra and lifted his baton. Each section of the orchestr...
Weekly Contest #251
I saw it there, out in the distance from miles away. This bright, orange yellow light. Now that I’ve reached the hill past the woods, there’s no light. Only a note, a half crumpled note with wet spots, stuck into a thorn of a sprouting rose. “Here, in my grasp, made of copper, filled with wax, is my lantern. To me, a symbol of hope and yearning, one also of honest reprieve. I stand here, at the cusp of surrounding woods, atop a rose budding hill, with moonlight shining above me. Tall grass sways gently and stars are tucked away by cloud...
Weekly Contest #218
I’ve a mouth, a nose, two eyes, and two ears; each of which I was born with and each I knew were meant to serve me. One day, Mother approached me and said: “Oh, darling, you know how I love you so.. Please, allow me to cut off your left ear so you never have to hear your Father and I argue again.” I was four. How was I suppose to know the permanence of my yes? With a butcher’s knife, Mother struck my left ear and promptly removed it. She opened the kitchen cupboard and put the bloody mass in a jar for safe keeping. “I lov...
Weekly Contest #217
It was no secret in Lockeside that there was an abandoned home at the end of the road, right by the last remaining Catholic Church. Once the liveliest area of the old West Virginian town, it was left bare and withered with the installation of the new highway. It didn’t help that there were old rumors of that place; rumors which had only grown with its rot. It was that of the Etsons and their son Charley. The Etsons were good folk, according to Pastor Davidson. They went to church every week, volunteered some miles out at a soup kitchen, an...
Weekly Contest #166
(TW: Passionate ravings of a disabled person, disability discrimination…?)“…Are those eye contacts?” You’ve heard that question about a million times and then some. It’s easy to forget about it when you’re in a flow state behind the register. You greet the customer, you scan the items and, in between each click, you ask them if they would like to sign up for rewards but, every so often, you slip up. You have the audacity to make eye contact. Sometimes it’s unintentional, sometimes you feel confident, and sometimes you don’t care, b...
Weekly Contest #165
It was evening, a chill breeze had swept through Lockeside, and leaves left their carefully crafted piles for pebbled roads. Fall was well on its way and, though he was reminded time and time again to bundle up, Waltie couldn’t help but find every excuse to play outside. After all, he was four and no weather, no matter how severe, would stop him from finding the next shiny thing. He’d trudge through the hill behind his house or lean close by nearby streams if it meant adding to his assortment of oddities. During one of his ...
Weekly Contest #164
(CW: Swearing, mental illness, reference to bludgeoning) It was wet. The left side of his face, that is, was sopping wet. He registered that much as he opened his eyes. He looked up at a neon blue bulb hanging overhead. It burned into his eye sockets and decorated him in phosphorescent colors. He squinted. He’d have to switch bulbs again; this time to a dimmer purple. Maybe even green. Whichever color worked best with his ceiling fan. He smacked his lips together and tasted a bittersweet liquid. Ink. He turned, leaned up, and met h...
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