Grass - By Jessica Young

Written By: Jessica Young

Category: Short story

Competition: Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026

Jessica Young, under the pen name Grass, invites readers into a reflective narrative with her short story "Grass," a distinguished entry in the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026. Through vivid storytelling, she explores the intricate dance of memory and perception. Young's narrative serves as a poignant reminder of the beauty and complexity of our internal worlds, crafted in a way that resonates deeply with the universal experience of longing and self-discovery.

About the Work

In "Grass," Jessica Young weaves a tapestry of vivid imagery and introspective musings, guiding the reader through a series of life stages interwoven with the recurring motif of lush, inviting grass. The story captures a nostalgic yearning and an exploration of sensory perceptions, challenging the reader to question the reliability of memory and reality. Young's expressive style and evocative descriptions create a dreamlike atmosphere, inviting reflection on the nature of identity and experience.

Grass

Original Submission by Jessica Young

Grass

You are back, all the way back to the ripe old age of four, you sit comfortably and gaze across to the luscious green, green grass just out of reach. The teacher drones on, speaking about how to tie a shoelace, you couldn’t be bothered, you daydream on, about the soft green grass laying just outside the creche door. RIIING the bell chimes, it’s time to go! To the green grass your legs carry you. You arrive with a sigh and a collapse onto the soft plush greenery, you wriggle your toes and scrunch your fingers, feeling the fine textures of the blades as it slides over your skin, you look around to see friends playing, teachers teaching elsewhere and jungle gyms, just out of reach again. Your ears are filled with the playground, children playing, not your age children proper children, you’re still a toddler technically. The smell of the plush grass flows through your nose, through your mouth and even if you think hard enough, you’re sure you can hear the small blades of grass blow in the gentle breeze. You blink your eyes and suddenly, you’re not so far back.

Age seven, grade one, sitting in the classroom, teaching continuing about the letter S and that same luscious, spacious and wonderful green grass only slightly out of reach, but the bell doesn’t ring. You sit and watch in boredom as the teacher continues demonstrating, drawing and writing, yet as the boredom grows louder and louder, the rest of the world grows quieter. It’s been hours, why won’t this bell just ring already? Without any signal, the kids around you jump up, celebrate and run out the door… where are they going? The bell hasn’t gone yet? You wonder to yourself. The teacher comes up to you, speaks, yet no sound.

You blink your eyes in disbelief, and there you go, age seventeen, grade eleven. Ms What’shername explaining the concepts of the brain in biology, uhg, will this end? You reach up to fix your hair, and feel something strange, magnetised to the side of your head, as you turn to look at your reflection in the window, there you see it, the green, beautiful grass again. It draws you in, locks your vision and captivates your thoughts, you barely notice when the teacher reprimands you, the grass has you drawn in. You look back to the presentation on the board, only to see spots, stars and geometric figures, as far as the eye can see, everything is changing and growing darker? You blink to clear your senses, only to wake up again age twenty-one…

Sitting in a meeting room, you listen to the suit describing last month’s sales targets, yet just past your eyeline, you are drawn towards the green grass again. Is it following me? You wonder…. You sit back, relax and have a sip of coffee, you feel the warmth of the brown liquid, you feel the side of your cup, yet that refreshing crushed bean drink just simply doesn’t cross your taste buds. Weird, you take another sip, hmm still nothing…. You rumble into your suit pocket and pull out a small stick of gum, unwrap it and throw it down the hatch. Yet, nothing, you can feel the sticky icky gummy and slimy texture of the gum, yet where is the pop of berry flavouring you specifically chose in the store?

You blink your eyes, only to find yourself again, age thirteen, sitting on the green grass. You gaze down in amazement, finally, you had made it. The grass flows gently in the wind surrounding you, blowing soft sounds of birds through your mind and the slightest taste of fresh grass plows through your mouth. You turn around to see a woman; she’s holding a freshly baked pie. You can see it’s still hot, by the oven mitt that’s holding it up. The woman’s mouth moves, yet no sound emerges, you continue staring, she puts the pie down and communicates with you, “it is ready, you should come have a piece”. You wonder into the cottage, have a seat and are served a blueberry pie slice alamode, decorated with sprinkles, icing sugar, cinnamon and sugar, it is a dream come true, yet… you can’t quite seem to determine why you can’t smell this amazing feast laid before you. You blink your eyes again, only to be back, to somewhat normal, age twenty three, laying on the couch of your recently rented Airbnb, waking up just where you could remember falling asleep. Only issue is, why is that magnetised thing on the side of your head missing? And I wonder what else is missing?

You look around to see the simple and basic lounge of a run of the mill Airbnb, you remember booking it months ago, yet you can’t remember why.

You look out the window, outside you see that beautiful, incredible, luscious green grass that you can’t quite seem to place where you have seen it before, it calls you, now more than ever, it beckons you and begs you to come closer, come feel the bristles against your skin. The coffee table before you is adorned with three candles, simply for decoration yet someone has lit them, you cannot recall owning a lighter… More curious, the label on the candle reads “soft garden grass” yet you can’t smell a thing. Besides it sits a large decorative bowl, a mini plant and you begin to wonder why someone would put a plant in such a small container, what about its growth potential?

There’s fabric draped on the side of the couch, a piece of comfort, a blanket which was once draped over you while you slept, you reached out to feel the fabric yet no response from your fingers. They report, “you are not feeling anything sir, when as far as you can tell you are definitely touching a fluffy plush blanket.”

Further there is a painting on the wall – it’s abstract art, yuck, you look at the painting and try and study it for meaning like all those people do, you can’t see much past the black and white smoke like streaks that cover the canvas, you stare on, focusing, thinking, trying, when you were just about to give up hope, the black and white strikes, starts moving, shifting, adjusting, making a new photo… the painting now reads: But can’t you smell that?” You look back in disbelief, “huh?” What should I be smelling you think.

You turn to the right and walk a few steps forward, you are met with the kitchen, these open plan houses have always been strange. You stand staring, drawn in, locked into the green, luscious grass, captivated, stuck, you stare longer and longer until you hear

(cough), and it snaps you back to reality. Your curiosity overpowers you; you claw through the drawers in search of anything of interest. The first drawer on the left pours its contents out to you, chargers, cables, devices and all the like come pouring out as you open the drawer, you try to stop it by closing the drawer, only to realise it won’t budge, inside you can see nothing really of interest, maybe your phone is in there somewhere? Who knows. The middle drawer opens with a crreeeeeek, you assume, based on how much effort and power it took to open. It justles open to reveal kitchen utensils, there’s a pair of tongs, spoons, forks and knives. You pick up the tongs, mhm these could come in handy. The drawer on the right opens, but only slightly, there’s something blocking it from opening all the way. You pull and pull and pull until it finally gives way and sends you onto the ground, its contents over the floor and you’re still left holding the empty drawer. You stand up to investigate the contents, it seems to just be documents, passports, flight tickets, random ticket stubs, adventurers live here you think to yourself.

Reaching the end of the drawers you walk through the door to the right. What the actual… you say out loud as you walk through the doorway, as if in the blink of an eye, the world around you morphs, changes and shifts into a dark decrypted, abandoned entrance to a hallway. All you can think of is that green grass you once saw just out of reach. You step onwards towards the only door that appears to be the least ominous.

This room greets you with a smell, the first smell you have smelt in ages, it smells like a freshly mown garden, ripe with dew and small critters flittering through the blades of grass, yet you can’t seem to spot where there is any grass in this room. This room feels as if though its grabbing you, holding onto your skin with a tightness and urgency. Rushing to the window you peer down to see a lawn, a garden, but it is not at all well kept, the grass does not begin to cover the harsh scathing brown soil that lays beneath, it is so unkept that it’s clear to see it is not from years of aging but rather someone who purposely made it look so bad.

You turn and dash into another room and the darkness is overwhelming, you can’t shake the feeling that someone or something is watching you. You feel as if though your ears are beginning to get sore, incredibly sore. Theres two dolls, just sitting here before you, sending daggers through your soul as they stare somewhat lifelessly. The one has a tiny little key hanging around her neck, you can only just see it, it’s silver. She doesn’t look like the type to give it to you if you could ask her. Are you sure you’re willing to wrestle with a doll again? You still have the scars from where the last one bit you. You silence the voice of concern, grab the doll and pick her up, she seems to scream in protest, yet you can’t hear anything. You grab her arms behind her back and begin to grab the key from around her neck, you feel a liquid of some sort begin pouring down your right hand, strange, it seems to be incredibly dark in colour. You continue fighting the heinous doll and one final slam on the table next to you secures the silver key in your hand.

You throw the defeated doll down, and your attention turns towards the ominous light, the lamp with an ash coloured lampshade that you can clearly see something stuck to the globe casting huge shadows across the ceiling. As you approach the lamp, you can tell the globe, it is incredibly hot, whatever is stuck on there will burn you, leave scars

and blisters for weeks, but it does look slightly green in colour. You reach your hand under the lampshade, the heat, it is not felt, weird, you continue as normal and reach within, against the lightbulb you begin peeling off what looks to be an envelope. You look at your hand in horror as the more you peel the envelope off the light the more your skin sizzles and fries in the intense heat of the bulb, yet you can’t feel anything... Or hear anything ... Or smell anything… Strange, you continue frying your hand to reveal an envelope, you rip it open without a second thought, the papers from inside go flying all over the room, you find a twenty dollar bill.

You attention shifts to the wardrobe in the right-hand corner, it seems to be large in stature, much taller than yourself. This is why I never book Airbnb’s anymore, you hear yourself think, always a random hidden room or something to fear. The door stands ajar, revealing a drop of light gleaming out from the inside, you step closer slowly and steadily. Reaching your hand, you peel the door open, creeeek, the vibrations shout. You step into the wardrobe, and it greets you with a sense of safety, comfort, warmth and a bright shining light. You stand for a moment and begin to feel the suns soft kisses on your skin. Turning around in circles you realise there is nothing more to this wardrobe, it is nothing but a mini sun porch. You step out and head back to the darkness engulfed passage.

You walk down the passage, to walk deeper, further into the dining room, this room also looks familiar, in a different way, the painting seems to be slightly moving, but only slightly. It swings slowly and cautiously side to side, side to side.

There’s a centrepiece, ahh I’ve never understood why people make them so tall, it seems to be a concrete vase filled with thorny roses and beautiful small pink flowers flowing out the side. Smell the sweetness won’t you? Oh… uhm anyways, you reach your hand out to check inside and under the vase, an exorbitant price tag stares back at you “six-hundred and seventy dollars”. You say aloud, “who spends 670$ on a vase !?” Yet no sound can be heard. You continue poking about, checking all the surfaces, checking under the seats and checking in the vase, where could the magnetised devices be?

Just as your search is growing futile you look up, dangling from the chandelier the piece of resistance stares deep into your soul. A small device, one side has a battery, and the other side is a small circle, all connected by a thin red wire. It seems to be magnetised to the light fixture. You cautiously clamber up onto the dining room table and pick it up, without a single thought, simply out of habit you slip the round piece to a soft spot just behind your ear on the right side of your head. You slip the other part to rest atop your

ear’s crest. As you tinker with the buttons an ear-splitting, brain exploding, shrieking sound starts. It strikes you so suddenly you collapse off the table and land with a hard thud on the floor. “Good night” you hear from behind.

You open your eyes to see the simple and basic lounge of a run of the mill Airbnb, you remember booking it months ago, yet you can’t remember why.

“Hello my love” you hear from your right ear, the voice does not seem to have a body to match, you sit up and scratch your eyes awake. You whip your head, left right, left right trying to place this unfamiliar familiar voice. There’s no one.

The voice speaks again, come sit with me, take off those things and come here. You feel a bit strange, what things is she referring to? The hearing aids? But you’ve just gotten them back on and that’s how you can hear her? You jump up and race to the kitchen, out the door, the green luscious grass does look far too inviting. Determined to find the voice you adjust the dials to the highest they will go. You wait… Staring at the grass the voice quietly beckons… “come here, we miss you”. It echoes through your ear and places a sense of deep dread within your chest. You refuse to listen, believing this is all a dream you return to the fluffy blanket, wrap yourself up and close your eyes on the couch once more.

You open your eyes to see the simple and basic lounge of a run of the mill Airbnb, you remember booking it months ago, yet you can’t remember why.

The voice, it calls you once again. “Come my love, come be with me”. You jump up within milliseconds you’re stood in the kitchen, staring longingly at the green grass. Something in the distance catches your eye, a small red speck is slowly making its way towards the kitchen door. The sense of dread returns, you arm yourself with a knife and a pot and stand prepared to fight the vicious beast. The red spot gets closer and closer, eventually knocking on the glass door, you hear her say “Hey you, listen, I know it doesn’t make sense, put the knife down, let me in, I promise I will explain.”

After an intense argument with your own mind, you rely on pure dumb luck and open the door, praying that she won’t commit some heinous crime.

Just then you blink, and you open your eyes to see the simple and basic lounge of a run of the mill Airbnb, you remember booking it months ago, yet you can’t remember why.

This time it’s different, when you awaken, the strong smell of blueberry pie fills the air, you only just open your eyes to see a woman in red standing over you. You jump from the suddenness of it all.

She laughs, says to you, “come on, have some pie, I made it freshly for you, spent all morning in the kitchen.”

You say to her, “You spent all morning in the kitchen? Why didn’t I see you?”

She doesn’t respond, you ask her, “Who are you?”

She responds: “Oh no, not one of those dreams again...”

She looks sad, but in an instant she is spewing out memories,

“Remember with me, think back, when we were four, we sat out on the grass during break at school, and my brother thought it would be fun to throw sand on us, and you without thinking covered me with your jacket, - or how’s about when we were seven, we were in grade 1 together and there was an insanely loud sound, they said that only some people in the country could hear it, apparently it was supersonic or something, but anyways, some people lost their hearing because of it, sadly you were one of those people. It was a couple years after that that you got your first hearing aids, I think we were thirteen if I remember right, we still sat on the grass here the very first time you put them on. Then, uhm, sixteen we went to the dance together and you wanted to kiss me but were too shy, then seventeen, sitting in class I remember you turning to look out the window, ma’am yelling at you, and you had no care, it was hilarious, but we are still not sure what went wrong that day with your vision, but after that you could only see in geometric shapes, if you were lucky enough to see, we figured it was some sort of infection because with long lasting courses of medication we can keep your vision normal, but who knows what causes it to act up. Aah and finally your memory, that was a cold day when were twenty-one, we were both at work, separately and you were in a meeting in the boardroom, you said to me after the incident that the grass was screaming your name and you had to answer it, but I don’t think that’s a good enough reason to head straight through the window on the 2nd floor, either way that gave you a bit of memory loss and memory damage. So, you struggle to determine what is real and what is fake. That’s the long story short, come to the kitchen, have some pie and let’s talk about the long story again.” As she walks past you can’t help but notice the singular blade of grass growing out of her skin next to her ankle.

About the Competition

The Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026 by Hashtag Kalakar brings together voices from around the world to celebrate and showcase the power of words. As a platform for emerging and established writers, the competition provides a stage for diverse narratives and creative expressions, fostering a community that values the transformative power of storytelling.

We extend our heartfelt thanks to Jessica Young for sharing her captivating short story "Grass" with us. Her participation in the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026 enriches the tapestry of voices that make this event a beacon for literary talent and artistic exploration.

About Hashtag Kalakar

Hashtag Kalakar is a creative platform dedicated to providing artists, writers, singers and other creative talents with opportunities to showcase their work and reach wider audiences through competitions, features and creative initiatives.