Stories That Take Place at Night by Jacob Coblentz (18, Ohio)

Chapter One
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There's something so… perfect about a pattern. Something that seems almost universal, or basic. Fundamental. Interlocking lines making shapes, and more shapes, a thousand squares and triangles and parallelograms interwoven and completing the order of some higher being. They keep me grounded. Away from the substance and unnecessary complexity. Parallel lines bring calm and perpendicular ones strength. In here, I can lie down and watch the patterns swirl along the stones, geometries churning like shadows cast from a great distance. In here, I can breathe unfettered and pour my life into the patterns. There is nothing but what is inside. The simplicity of a straight line keeps the rest at bay.

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Chapter Two 

There's rain somewhere, I think. There's rain somewhere, surely, and it's God's fury. God's pain and anguish at what someone has done. There's someone out there who's angered God enough that he is sending rain to wash them away. And they are fighting back. Neither of them cares enough for the sanctity of the lives of other people. They are just focused on each other, on a war nobody else knows about. Except for me. I know it and I watch it and I hear every thought they both have. They are bent on destruction, and on devotion. The line of mortality is very thin. 

Chapter Three 

There is something on the ceiling. There is something on the floor. There is something outside the window. I am the something on the floor, and I am looking up at the something on the ceiling. I do not know if the something knows I am here. I close my eyes and the something is still there. I feel the floor on my back and the weight on my chest. I feel my feet against the wall and my hair on my head. I open my eyes and the something is still there. There is something outside the window. 

Chapter Four 

There's dark water pooling below the grate. Sitting down on the curb, I am peering down between the criss-crossing bars and watching the salty water drip and the grime coalesce in whatever alcove it can reach. The bright neon above me disappears after briefly dipping a toe

into the water. Beyond the water, there might be something brighter than the neon. There might be something else. 

Chapter Five 

There are melodies. They echo in my head. They are repeating, over and over and over and over, chipping away at my brain. They sort of hang there, trapped in my brain, trying to find ways out. But I can't let them out. They have a job to do. 

Chapter Six 

There, in the distance. There it is. The shadow seems to warp along with the trees blowing in the frigid breeze. I don't want to be here. I don't want to be there. I don't know what's left. 

Chapter Seven 

There's a shower on. Did I turn it on? Am I meant to get in? I'm naked. Where is the shower? Where am I? I'm naked. 

Chapter Eight 

There can't be a way out.