• The horror of sending an email to an email that doesn't use my deadname
  
• A sonnet to the politics of a love of a razor, and the love of a mother
  
• Band names and dreams shared with ‘Father’
  
• I should finish the poem about dovetails
  
• Victor Frankenstein's notes for that semester he studied English
  
• Poets don't make money, but novelists don't either
  
• Debating polyamory
  
• Loosing, loosing, loosing.
  

I think these are all poems about being queer. In so many ways, the pain and the love and the fear.

Poem: (130/100 words)

Puberty reaches out to him with female worms
that enlarge and swell, crawl to bottoms and bleed.
grab his tongue, and pull, drooling out, squirms
on the roof of his mouth: a naughty kids deed
a Mother watches, every eye on the womb
of ensuring her sons home-soiled doom
and, a dull razor cuts the lifeline of a heart
like a torn down bush, branches on hard-
panelled bathrooms floors, of marred
life. When forced to play a method part.
the bleeding hole is only natural; or smart
boys keep plasters close as if a guard
for the nick of the skin, and sickly bombard
of what first contact with the infestation restarts.
A razor to a man is passed from Father,
A razor to a girlboy is Mothers weapon stolen.

Songwriting 0/200

Screenwriting 789/300
1: EXT. A CALL CAR PARK, LATE EVENING

ESTHER, 20, Jewish and in smart casual clothes, approaches a dented, black mini. As she reaches the vehicle, her phone buzzes loud . She stops, checks it, places it back into her pocket - can't be bothered. It rings. The chorus ‘Ghostbusters’ by Ray Park Jr blasts. Esther picks up.

ESTHER:
Kyron I am working.

KYRON (O.S)
I have a lead. On you know who.

ESTHER:
And?

KYRON (O.S)
You know I can't do this alone.

ESTHER:
I have a job.

KYRON (O.S)
At a call centre. You can get better pay and do it remotely.

ESTHER:
Not for the NHS I can't.

KYRON (O.S)
Now you're making excuses. We both know you'll do more if you come.

ESTHER:
I don't even know where you are.

KYRON (O.S)
You have contacts. Come find me.

BEEEEP. He hangs up. Esther stares at her phone for minutes before typing a message to JOE. It reads ‘Have you seen the kid recently? Or know a case he’d have picked up?' She's about to send it when a news article pops up. ‘FOSTER CHILD, ANDREW DOE FOUND DEAD IN LONDON.’

ANDREW DOE'S, 18, brown wavy hair, body is mutilated. Organs, the heart, is missing. Esther is unfazed by the image. She climbs into the car and drives away, speeding.

2: INT. COSTA COFFEE, LONDON. 6AM NEXT DAY.

Esther and KYRON, 18, brown wavy hair, in a torn up leather jacket, are by the window seat. Esther has a black coffee, Kyron has an iced latte. A collection of newspapers are scattered on the top. They detail several grisly murders, including Andrews. To the side is Kyron's leather bound, stuffed notebook. The shop is humming with customers but none are staying, all too busy with their jobs.

ESTHER:
Are you really doing this?

KYRON:
I don't know.

ESTHER:
I'm not quitting my job. Hell. I'm not staying if you're ‘not sure.’

KYRON:
You'd only say: I told you so.

ESTHER:
I'd attend your funeral as well.

(Both laugh briefly)

ESTHER:
(a lot more somber)
I'd probably arrange your funeral.

KYRON:
I've discovered I quite like living.

ESTHER:
More than you quite like Boo?

KYRON:
… I have to do this. It'd be different if he just killed me and moved on.

ESTHER:
But this is more than just you.

KYRON:
I just keep thinking, what if one of those boys survive, and they wake up to find Boo standing over them and he says ‘You just remind me of someone-’

ESTHER:
Unlikely. His fixation is on you.

KYRON:
Ghosts are unstable like this.

ESTHER:
But predictable. You're the object of his business. He won't switch that up.

KYRON:
But I'm not dead yet.

ESTHER:
No.

KYRON:
It's unusual

ESTHER:
Very. Loved one is usually the first to go. Then there's rapid deterioration. It's why we find malicious ghosts so fast.

KYRON:
I know.

ESTHER:
Boo is too organized.

KYRON:
I know.

ESTHER:
You knew him best. What do you think?

Kyron pushes his notebook towards Esther. She opens it. There are pictures of BOO, 16, alive, well-dressed, bruised and with his arm wrapped around a woman's waist. Pictures and news clippings of the recent killings, including Andrew Doe's - all of boys who look like Kyron, orphaned and from London. There's theories, cross comparisons in red ink to other ghost cases, references to other journals. The entire notebook is FILLED. At the very end is a picture of 13 year old Kyron, baby-faced, cheeks flushed and skinny, kissing a shadowed figure.

Esther goes green. She slams the notebook shut and shoves it towards Kyron, Kyron takes it and puts it away. He watches her and waits.

ESTHER:
What do you think he'll do next?

KYRON:
Wait.

ESTHER:
I don't think that counts as waiting.

KYRON:
He's waiting for me to come back to him.

ESTHER:
Will you?

KYRON:
I want too.

ESTHER:
He'd end you.

KYRON:
Not if I forgave him. Not if we got back on the road, just the two of us. No phones, nothing but us.

ESTHER:
Then why did you call me?

KYRON:
You've been trying to reap him since we met.

ESTHER:
It wasn't personal.

KYRON:
Exactly.

ESTHER:
I don't understand.

KYRON:
I need your help. To do this.

ESTHER:
You don't have to do this. I could take your information and do it for you. It'd take a week, tops.

KYRON:
He's leading me on. He'll escalate if I quit, quicker than you can catch him.

ESTHER:
You have a plan?

KYRON:
The beginnings of one. I have a hotel room as well.

Kyron stands up, latte unnfinished. He exits the shop. Esther follows after him.

Speech 0/400