A Prompt from 2013 Revisited in 2023

I went through my email tonight. That’s not something I regularly do. I hate emails. They give me anxiety, and I’m not about to open the 11,390 unread ones. But, I did curiously checked the small batch of emails I’ve sent over the years. And found one I had completely forgotten about. 

In 2013 there was a writing contest on the “official” Owl City Tumblr page. I don’t exactly remember the exact prompt or rules, but I think it was something along the lines of “Write a short story or poem about living in Owl City as if it were a real place”. You’d then email your submission to the contest host and they’d pick a winner and post it to the page. The prize was a commissioned drawing from the host who was an artist. I won, but I don’t think there were a lot of submissions. 

And here we are. 10 years later. Still Owl City’s number one fan, and still wanting to write. I was really proud of this little story, and was even prouder to win the contest. I’d been writing fan fiction for years, but I’d never won anything for my work. So it was a big deal for me even at such a small scale in a niche community. 

I thought I might share the original and rewrite it to fit my idea of living in Owl City now. Here is thee original, written in 2013:

There is a place where apples are always crisp, and the rain falls only at night when you desperately need to sleep. The crisp breeze gently flutters the curtains of the modest homes, lining the dimly lit streets. 

The residents all hide personal sorrows under their sweaters, but some smile wide when they see that pretty girl at the gas station. They sure know how to throw a party, but they also know how to enjoy the sweet scent of the ocean at sunset. 

The apple pie is to die for, and the grass is always green. The nights are full of stars, and the crickets play a symphony while the fireflies dance above. 

You can run next door for a cup of sugar in your bathrobe without anyone batting an eye, and always expect a warm smile.

And some nights, a young girl and boy can be seen holding hands at the old gazebo in the park. 

These people are happiness, 

and, they are the people, of Owl City.

Rewritten, Today, in 2023

TW// brief insinuation of self harm

Far from here; there is a city. It’s quite small for a city. Regardless, it’s home to many alluring people. 

Today the weather was mild. Dusk is now approaching, and the clouds are those of the stratus family, translucent and scale like. Almost as if they are mimicking the backs of alligators. 

Crickets have already begun their symphony of chirps. A mild breeze tussles the cattails near the babbling creek nearby. The scent of the ocean is mild and pleasant. The crashing waves can be heard in the distance along with chimes of buoy bells near the harbor.

There are a group of friends laughing on a neighbor's porch decorated with strings of lights and illuminated by a small campfire. The kids are roasting marshmallows and catching fireflies in mason jars. The sunset is vibrant and alive. Some take the time to watch it be dragged away by the pull of earth to the west. Wouldn’t it thrilling to see the sun rise from the west? One thought to themselves. 

Alone elsewhere, is a person drowning in turmoil. Their face is puffy from pleading sobs, begging the sky and it’s setting sun that anyone beyond it could put the fears to bed. The cries echo to no avail.

“Is it over yet? Will I ever feel again?”

The blood in their veins is dark. Far from a rainbow of motivation or optimism. It’s red. They are well aware. 

As the dusk swiftly slips into night the city is rather quiet. The residents either deep in a lucid dream scape or tossing and turning so desperately trying to sleep. So tired, yet so awake.

Down by the shore, the waves crash as always. I once saw a pair of lovebirds leaning on each other quietly under an umbrella. Pressing their ears to seashells and staring up at the stars anytime there was a break in the clouds. I’ve been back many a time, and sometimes I’ll see the same boy staring upwards. I think he misses her. 

As morning breaks the early birds will catch the shuttles to their unknown destinations. Some tend to their garden of violets and make cozy little homes for the wrens to nest in. Others may be hard at work designing railways and suburban streets. Who knows? 

Funny enough I happened to over hear a girl with a beautiful periwinkle flower in her hair say her true love quit his day job to sail the ocean with her. 

Meanwhile those quietly suffering are learning to be brave, and finding happiness they never thought they could. Looking up at that daily sunset and closing their eyes, knowing they’ll get by. 

Owl City is abstract, yet still well read. Its a lovely place I’d like to stay in. But it’s only a daydream fueled with dreamy words and imagination. 

You know what? Reality is a lovely place. But I think I’d rather live here. In Owl City. 

Author Notes: This piece is riddled with references 99.8% of my very few readers will understand, and that’s ok. It’s important and emotional for me to see how Adam Young’s (Owl City’s soul member) music has influenced me over the years and changed my perspective of his music. He will always be an incredibly important person in my life and I truly feel genuine love for him. 

Erika

Work Cited: Songs referenced in order from beginning to end (for those interested)

• Alligator Sky

• Plant Life

• Fireflies

• If My Heart Was A House

• Silhouette

• Rainbow Veins

• Lucid Dream

• Saltwater Room 

• Early Birdy

• Hospital Flowers

• House Wren

• Captains and Cruise Ships

• Be Brave

• Winners Never Quit

• Designer Skyline 

• The Real World