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#149 Of Stranger Things

After its much-awaited release last week, the fourth season of Stranger Things has taken the world by storm. First aired in 2016, this television show stars a group of D&D-loving kids and unlikely heroes in a topsy-turvy world. Its creators took inspiration from many classic thrillers, and the show has in turn been influencing writers to write Stranger Things books.

Whether you’ve been swept up by this sensational show or not, I hope my Stranger Things-inspired prompts can propel you into a story of your own this week:

🥇 Winner

How to Win a Game of Chess Without Really Trying

Katy B

Winner of Contest #149 🏆

Disclaimer: There is no easy way to win a game of chess. But that’s only if by “winning” you mean hunting down your opponent’s king until he is gasping for air in a solitary corner, his vision fading into the black and white static of the board as your opponent (John, Meera, or Jeremy) commits seppuku by resignation. Only gradually will you return to the hard seats and smudged tabletops of your school’s B-grade lunch counter. You'll blink in a daze at the face of your opponent who, you must remember, is your friend in real life.If it’s John,...

215 likes

139 comments 139

⭐️ Shortlisted

Them Indiana Boys, On Them Indiana Nights

S. W.

Shortlisted for Contest #149 ⭐️

(TW/CW: Mentions of active drug use, drug activity, STD's, infidelity, foul language)➾➾Your loved ones stopped by your apartment last night. Their faces twisted in disgust as they scanned your space looking for a clear spot to sit. Their faces–solemn and united– and you thought, well, this can’t be good. When did you last see Aunt June? Or your old best friend Hank? He hadn’t returned a single one of your calls in ages. Dad lingered in the doorway in his oiled up coveralls looking like he’d prefer to be anywhere but here. Mom’s tears ha...

73 likes

On, Off

C. J. Peters

Shortlisted for Contest #149 ⭐️

On, off. On, off. Onoffonoffonoff. On. I’d been standing in the cramped hall of my apartment for a full five minutes, just watching the bulb flicker.Well, I’d been seeing that light glitch out for weeks now. It’s just that today I decided to plant my feet and stare until my vision went screwy.It was always that same pattern. On and off, on and off, then it would rapid-fire blink, then it would be on again for a few moments before starting the whole damn routine over again. I think that’s what bugged me the most. The consistency.It’s not like...

41 likes

Playing with Fire

Shortlisted for Contest #149 ⭐️

'We need to sort that out. It’s bad for customers,’ said the waitress, pointing at the flickering lightbulb.'What customers,’ joked Mike. The waitress got back to wiping down the tables without a response.Business was bad for Brompton Station Cafe. Three weeks left, Mike reckoned. Brompton had just got its own, brand-spanking-new Underground station. It had made the Overground line, and with it Brompton Station, redundant.'An occupational hazard,’ the ticket officer kept saying to Mike, thinking himself very witty. Mike thought the ticket of...

33 likes

Seedling

EJ Lagerberg

Shortlisted for Contest #149 ⭐️

The light bulb flickered, humming to a dim glow in the sitting room of Symon Shevchenko’s farmhouse. He had refused to leave. He had lived in that house his entire life, born there, his father born there; he was too old, he told the mayor, to pick up and come to town with everyone else. What would he do there? He is farmer. He does not know how to live in a small apartment, surrounded by concrete. If the darkness decided to envelope him, so be it. He picked up a tattered copy of Gogol’s Dead Souls, put on his reading g...

19 likes

The Light Outside

Hamilton Briggs

Shortlisted for Contest #149 ⭐️

June 2020 A light flashed through the curtains of her bedroom. Alicia reached for the bathrobe in the chair next to her and pulled it around her. She knew she would find the old man standing at the window She padded quietly up the wood stairs so as not to alarm him. Alicia turned the door handle quickly. As she had expected, he stood at the window, pushing at the pane. “Jan,” she said, “stay away from the window, please.” He turned around to face her, then growled like a bear. He waved his arms as if fighting her off. Yet Alicia, ...

18 likes

This week's prompts

Write about a character who is trying to convince others to play a game.

Kids – 19 stories

Start your story with the flickering of a light.

Kids – 95 stories

Write about two people who form a bond with each other through music.

Middle School – 45 stories

Set your story in a town that’s teetering on the edge of something dark, literally or metaphorically.

Dystopian – 50 stories

Write a story about an unlikely group (or pair) of friends.

Middle School – 43 stories

Stories

How to Win a Game of Chess Without Really Trying

Katy B

Winner of Contest #149 🏆

Disclaimer: There is no easy way to win a game of chess. But that’s only if by “winning” you mean hunting down your opponent’s king until he is gasping for air in a solitary corner, his vision fading into the black and white static of the board as your opponent (John, Meera, or Jeremy) commits seppuku by resignation. Only gradually will you return to the hard seats and smudged tabletops of your school’s B-grade lunch counter. You'll blink in a daze at the face of your opponent who, you must remember, is your friend in real life.If it’s John,...

215 likes

139 comments 139

Them Indiana Boys, On Them Indiana Nights

S. W.

Shortlisted for Contest #149 ⭐️

(TW/CW: Mentions of active drug use, drug activity, STD's, infidelity, foul language)➾➾Your loved ones stopped by your apartment last night. Their faces twisted in disgust as they scanned your space looking for a clear spot to sit. Their faces–solemn and united– and you thought, well, this can’t be good. When did you last see Aunt June? Or your old best friend Hank? He hadn’t returned a single one of your calls in ages. Dad lingered in the doorway in his oiled up coveralls looking like he’d prefer to be anywhere but here. Mom’s tears ha...

73 likes

Just Ask the Lamp

Kanika G

Submitted to Contest #149

“The aqua blue dress or the cherry red jumpsuit?” I say, holding up the two dresses in front of the mirror. The table lamp on the dresser continues to light up the room with its steady beam of light. “Sorry, still getting used to it,” I say, shaking my head. “Which of these two dresses will look more flattering on me tonight — the aqua blue dress or the cherry red jumpsuit?” I say, enunciating each word. The table lamp immediately starts flickering. A short burst of light, followed by four longer bursts. One dot followed by four dashes....

66 likes

Reasons to Be Thankful

Zack Powell

Submitted to Contest #149

The first thing I notice when I poke my head in the university's Indigenous Peoples' Appreciation Club is that there are only two members, one guy and one girl. The second thing I notice is that neither is Indigenous.They sit at adjacent desks in the corner of the classroom. The girl, whose platinum hair is brighter than the overhead lighting, poses for a selfie, closing one eye and flashing a peace sign Nixon-style. The guy preoccupies himself with a game of Pokémon Go, swiping violently at his phone screen and cursing his rotten luck. Rows...

46 likes

To Carry Me Home

Hannah P. Simmons

Submitted to Contest #149

(For my Father)Mama’s house is at the end of the shortest street in Bennetsville. It isn’t even what you’d call a street, really. Just a little hook off the main road that circles behind Jason’s greenhouse. I don’t know if there’s even a street sign there. Us locals know where to find it, and travelers don’t have no reason to look. Nothing there for them to be interested in, ‘cept maybe the greenhouse or the little church just past that. But for me, it’s home.Or, it was.Growing up on this little street means you know all the neighbors, and t...

42 likes

Rhubarb Pie

Michał Przywara

Submitted to Contest #149

Present day…Diamond Pete Lansing, aged sixty-eight, slammed his red-faced fists on the conference room table. “No! No! No!” he screamed, each word accented with a slam and followed by a mist of spittle. “Gonna git my trucks! Gonna git my guns!”Virginia and Wilson Buss, aged sixty-four and sixty-five, glanced at each other. Their faces were tight and they held hands beneath the table. Father Norval, a spry fifty-five, stood up and licked his lips. “Peter, please–”“-Aww, hell naw!” Diamond Pete said. He threw his white Stetson cowboy hat down ...

42 likes

On, Off

C. J. Peters

Shortlisted for Contest #149 ⭐️

On, off. On, off. Onoffonoffonoff. On. I’d been standing in the cramped hall of my apartment for a full five minutes, just watching the bulb flicker.Well, I’d been seeing that light glitch out for weeks now. It’s just that today I decided to plant my feet and stare until my vision went screwy.It was always that same pattern. On and off, on and off, then it would rapid-fire blink, then it would be on again for a few moments before starting the whole damn routine over again. I think that’s what bugged me the most. The consistency.It’s not like...

41 likes

Listen

D Kang

Submitted to Contest #149

CW: gun violence (not graphic)Wake up, Mr. Woodridge. Open your eyes. Come on, open them up. I see you’re confused and—now, there’s no need to be rude. The chains are there for a reason. Please don’t struggle, you’ll only hurt yourself. Listen, and I’ll explain.Feel free to take a drink of water. There’s a bottle to your left. There was no need to do that. You will be thirsty later. Sit still, please, stop shouting. You can’t get out and I really don’t want to hurt you. I don’t mean for this to be frightening, but I neede...

38 likes

The Mixtapes of August

Story Time

Submitted to Contest #149

I told myself I wouldn’t let him break my heart in a parking lot.When Nick returned home for the summer, his parents had converted his room into a pilates studio. That meant he was sleeping on a pull-out in the living room. Spending time at his house had been difficult back when they were in high school, but now there was nowhere for them to hide. Maybe that had been the point of eradicating his homeward privacy. His parents, like many who suspected their child was growing up in ways they couldn’t adjust to, might have thought the solution w...

38 likes

Second Chance, Third Strike

Submitted to Contest #149

Prisons have a unique smell—a curious cross between perspiration and despair. Debbie noticed it each time she came to visit Seth. It’s a little like blindness, she contemplated as the guard led her to the visitation room. Debbie had heard how people who had lost their sight would marvel at how their other senses became heightened. It must be like that with freedom, too, she reasoned. Her eyes darted around, noticing every crack and stain on the drab walls as she passed through the locked doors and dingy corridors. Even though Debbie was...

37 likes

The Hooded Stranger

Melony Beard

Submitted to Contest #149

"Are you sure you'll be okay by yourself Mom?" twelve year old Mitchell said as he tossed the oversized black duffel bag into the bed of his Dad's truck. "Mitchell, I'm 42 years old. If I'm not okay by myself for three days at my age, something is really wrong.""Awe, Mom," fourteen year old Matthew said as he leaned down to kiss my cheek, "We know you'll be okay but we can worry about you anyway."My husband Justin walked out the door in his usual hurried manner when he's preparing to leave for a trip. "What are you boys waiting on? Get ...

36 likes

The Resting Place

Beth Jackson

Submitted to Contest #149

CW: Mention of bloodA light flickers and I open my eyes. I’m nowhere. Drowning in white. I roll onto my knees and cough.Streetlamps stretch into the fog, and I stagger to my feet, stumbling towards the light. A man leans against the closest streetlamp, and I freeze. I look at his shoes.Boots. Heavy black boots, with scuffed toes and worn yellow stitching, frayed laces tied in a clumsy bow.The pressure in my chest eases, and I run towards him. He turns. His face is blank. A featureless circle of pink.I gasp and stumble, clawing at the ground,...

36 likes

Playing with Fire

Shortlisted for Contest #149 ⭐️

'We need to sort that out. It’s bad for customers,’ said the waitress, pointing at the flickering lightbulb.'What customers,’ joked Mike. The waitress got back to wiping down the tables without a response.Business was bad for Brompton Station Cafe. Three weeks left, Mike reckoned. Brompton had just got its own, brand-spanking-new Underground station. It had made the Overground line, and with it Brompton Station, redundant.'An occupational hazard,’ the ticket officer kept saying to Mike, thinking himself very witty. Mike thought the ticket of...

33 likes

Extraordinary

Submitted to Contest #149

(Warning: Some profanity ) The ability to function in day-to-day life as a neurotypical human is an admirable quality, but it comes at an often overlooked expense; for it is in the anomalies, unique and rare, that exists the extraordinary. “Autism. She will never speak or function normally.” The doctor delivered the diagnosis like the Unabomber, quickly tossing it at the intended target and fleeing the area. Tally’s parents, consumed by shock, denial, and grief, carried the diagnosis within their h...

26 likes

Car Trouble

Seán McNicholl

Submitted to Contest #149

The night was deep, the hour late and the air crisp when Peter Thomas left the house. The little light over the door flickered and died as the door swung shut. He and his four accompanists were in high spirits . Their laughs spoiled the clean air with bursts of fog, but little heed did they pay. “Come on”, Peter Thomas said to them as he laid his fiddle in the boot and snapped the lid shut, “Get in, its baltic!” Three clamoured into the back seat, pushing and squabbling over who should be stuck in the middle, whilst Peter Thomas ...

25 likes

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Contest #150

This contest has ended. Thank you for your submissions.

$250

Prize money

251

Entries

123

Stories

Ended on 23:59 - Jun 10, 2022 EST

Won by Katy B 🏆

Title: How to Win a Game of Chess Without Really Trying

Submissions must be between 1,000 - 3,000 words and will be approved and published on Reedsy Prompts within 7 days of the contest closing.

Read the full terms & conditions or check out the FAQ if you have any questions!

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