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CONTEST ENDED – Thank you for submitting your stories!

Write about someone who summons the creative muse through a convoluted ritual or method.

Posted in Short Story on Aug 30, 2024

Submissions are closed

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✍️ 56 stories

“One Hellish Quota” by Lindsey Bugajski

Submitted to Contest #266

One... two... three! She counted and she tapped along with her fingers to the keyboard. Blinking rhythmically with the clock that hung behind her, sunken head hung around her laptop. She felt her limited time slowly slink away, as it’s always done before. An electronic buzz later, she realized her time was up. She sat up from her seat and began toward the now busy breakroom, where her other coworkers enthusiastically whispered about their works, about their speed, about everything Penny didn’t have. The clattering of mugs as wired workers d...

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“ENGL 682” by WM .

Submitted to Contest #266

“Who's late to their own class?” Another student stands up, “Yeah, I’m about to leave.” Frustrated, he exited the classroom, followed by half the students. The door slams, a chuckle ringed from the back of the room. “Now we’re ready to begin.” The man says, standing up.  The room was silent, nobody remembered seeing this man sitting in the back. He wore a black hoodie, a bucket hat, and gray sunglasses. By the time it registered, he had already locked the exit. He was huge, definitely more of a door than a window.“Okay, n...

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“Triple M Day” by Nikki Elbertson

Submitted to Contest #266

Olivia turned off her alarm, hopped out of bed, and exed out yesterday’s calendar square with her magenta glitter pen. Triple M Day finally had arrived, and she was ready. She rubbed the ladybug locket that hung from her neck, as she examined the items on her desk next to her laptop: candles, tea, essential oils, the book, and of course, the checklist. Today was Olivia’s first day off in almost two months. On weekends and most evenings, Olivia worked at her family’s vintage store, Another Woman’s Treasure, allowing her parents, now in their ...

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“Melpomone” by David Coyle

Submitted to Contest #266

Melpomene The last eddy of pink disappeared, returning the ceramic to an off-white. Theo rubbed a marigold thumb against a dark mark with a squeak. It didn’t budge, and was unpleasantly sharp against his skin. Not detritus, but a chip in the sink. A dropped utensil perhaps. This was an old kitchen, both in age and style.  It was a perfect match to the old woman lying on her back on the terracotta tiles.  She was surrounded by a dark halo that still oozed sluggishly outwards. The circumference of the halo had a very slight smudge, ...

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“Seeking the Wild Muse” by A.K. Guidry

Submitted to Contest #266

My legs are sorer than I ever recall them having been and my skin is marred with no less than nine mosquito bites. I counted them last night while trying to fall asleep under a scratchy quilt in a cabin without adequate air conditioning. If I had been in a rational state of mind, I might have asked myself why I would possibly think that spending a couple weeks in the middle of nowhere with little more modern amenities than a working bathroom and a place to plug in my phone, which is mostly just serving as a glorified notebook at this point, ...

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“The Night at Solomon's and the Days After” by Emily Brown

Submitted to Contest #266

At her desk, wrapped in her dad’s old jumper, Sylvia Lamb stares at a lump of clay. She hasn’t touched it in the last hour, only every so often reaching out, struck by an idea before flinching away, sure that it was wrong. Before enrolling in university, Sylvia had no problem creating, in fact her room in her mum’s house was filled with sculptures. Six months later and half a term into her new school and she was stuck, paralysed; as unmoving as one of her pieces.            Around h...

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“Shadows” by Amelia Corbeau

Submitted to Contest #266

Locals say that their island was raised for the artists and the dreamers. That the slow-paced nonchalance of their days gives way to nights of bright and boneless sleep. That their clean air, their forested labyrinths and lush bracken breed the inspiration for free thinking. The living etched from the tedium of their pebbled shores is scant and humble, but it grants the space to create.  Their rhetoric is their anthem. A lighthouse amidst a chicanery of violent seas. A lilting promise that beckons those who have only ever watched f...

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“Thanks To Carolyn” by Mason Clark Jones

Submitted to Contest #266

Thanks to Carolyn “Every act of creation is first an act of destruction.” -Pablo Picasso Perhaps it didn’t matter where I started, as long as I got through the whole thing, but something about her hands called to me. Folded so neatly, resting with light grace on the arm of her chair, such a simple and elegant gesture. Crrrkkt went my cheap scissors, slicing her hands away. They fell to the table, perhaps even more beguiling on their own, the softness of her subtly detailed fingers a glowing contrast to the scarred plastic beneath. Her e...

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“It Stared Back” by Jide Fadairo

Submitted to Contest #266

On the border of the school, brushing against the stones of the wizard's sanctum was a forest. Older than the school, it had magic of its own. You could smell it in the air, dense with near-stagnant, eternal life. You would feel it as the mildew from times gone lingered long enough to drench the shoes of the today.Walk into the forest, travel far enough, and it will become clear it is not a place for man. Foliage with minds of their own grab at your clothes to keep you from sinking deeper. Plentiful roots breach the soil to wear away at your...

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“MuseConnect” by S.L. Stallings

Submitted to Contest #266

2:20 a.m. — Alma scrolled through her social media feed, unable to sleep. Dim light cast eerie shadows across a dozen unfinished canvases hanging in wait. Her creativity had dried up weeks ago. All that was left was anxiety and a sinking feeling that her parents were right.Art isn't a way to make a living.2:22 a.m. — An ad for 'MuseConnect' appeared. It blocked her scrolling and refused to close. Alma stared at the screen, eyes wide.Have you lost your edge? Need to do something spectacular to silence the parents? If you're a creati...

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“Nine Inch Spin Cycle” by Tom Harvey

Submitted to Contest #266

The rhythm of the dryer reminded me of industrial metal. Seated on the blue plastic chairs under the cool white glow of fluorescent lights, I closed my eyes and imagined Trent Reznor sitting backstage waiting to come on. The squirt of water into one of the washing machines added to the symphony, and the increasingly manic whir of the rapid cycle brough the tempo up a notch. The laundromat was empty except for me and one old guy who was sitting on the opposite side of the room. I doubt he was expecting a Nine Inch Nails gi...

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“The Couch” by Delsin Jagr

Submitted to Contest #266

Chuck sat in his car. Lost in thought. Enjoying the cool breeze coming from the vents. Then his phone rang. A quick look at the caller ID. Ignore. With a sigh, he exited the car, trading the air-conditioned comfort of his leased luxury SUV for the sweltering summertime heat of South Carolina. In an instant, sweat began to bead on his forehead. He hustled across the parking lot towards the cluster of condos.By the time he reached the front door, sweat had soaked through his t-shirt. He hurriedly looked through messages on his phone. Looking...

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“Writer's Blockade” by K CT

Submitted to Contest #266

The smell of coffee beans, nestled into his mustache. Click-clack, click-clack, click-click-click-click. The, all-too-familiar, sound of the backspace key being pressed repeatedly. The early morning gray, the midnight black. Heavy eyes, aching fingers, growling stomach, jumbled head. A not-so-young, down-and-going, writer struggles to put his brain to his keyboard. His ideas are always amazing, in theory. His concepts have the potential to be fantastic stories but as soon as he begins to write, he can't figure out how to bring it together. T...

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“Fairest of my Muses” by Ann Marie Kalus

Submitted to Contest #266

I had all of it laid out: my Phrygian cap, the Golden Fleece, the epic poetry tablets of Calliope, the sacred laurels of Apollo, fragrant incense, milk, and honey. Desperately, I chanted her name over and over, my words lost to the rustle of leaves. Everything I had, and everything they ever required, lay before me on the grass as my full offering.But she wouldn’t show up. Nobody had truly done it before, yes. But nobody who’s ever tried has ever been her son. Surely, she wouldn’t turn me down. Minutes passed, and I grew restless. Would a so...

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“By the Book” by Rhiannon Lee

Submitted to Contest #266

I outline the circle in a thin line of chalk. Thin because this is the fifth time I’ve done this in this month alone.  Note to self, go to Mike’s Friday for more. Mike’s, the only mom and pop hobby store in town, is the only place I’ll spend my money for something as important as this… Plus, the ten percent employee discount makes anything I buy at Mike's a steal. I write out the string of sigils along the outline in red paint. It’s too runny from the water I’ve added to the bottle, but it’s important to use every la...

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