The Letter

The rest of the day after receiving the finalist email passed in a kind of surreal haze. Elara’s mind raced through every possible outcome. She couldn’t concentrate in class, and when her teachers spoke, the words felt distant—like they belonged to a world that had no bearing on her anymore. She was already living in the world of her story, where possibilities were endless and her future was just beginning to unfold in front of her.

After school, she walked home in a blur. The streets were the same—lines of houses, trees swaying in the cool autumn breeze, the sound of kids playing in their yards—but Elara felt like she was seeing everything through a new lens. She kept thinking about the Orion Fellowship, about what it meant to be a finalist. This could change everything, she thought.

When she arrived home, her parents were sitting at the kitchen table, papers spread out in front of them, each of them in their own world. Her mom was signing bills, her dad flipping through work emails. It was the usual, and Elara didn’t know how to introduce what had just happened to her.

She set down her bag quietly, but her mom glanced up, her expression unreadable. “How was your day, honey?”

“Okay,” Elara said absently, her heart still racing from the email. “I got an email about the Orion Fellowship.”

Her mom’s eyebrows furrowed slightly. “Is that the writing thing you applied to?”

Elara nodded, barely able to hold back the excitement. “I got in as a finalist.”

Her mother’s gaze shifted, but not in the way Elara had hoped. “That’s nice. What does that mean for you, exactly?”

Before Elara could answer, her father looked up from his tablet. “Well, that’s something, I guess. You can submit again next year if you don’t make it this time.”

Elara’s smile faltered, the weight of their casual reactions settling on her shoulders. They didn’t get it. Not really. To them, this was just another competition—another thing that might pass without making much of a difference.

But to Elara, it was everything. It was proof that she wasn’t just daydreaming. She was getting noticed.

Her mom gave her a smile that was just a little too thin, the edges of it tight with unspoken questions. “Well, I’m glad you’re still working at it.”

“I’ll get a full scholarship this way, Mom,” Elara said, though she wasn’t sure who she was trying to convince more—her mom or herself.

Her dad, still distracted, nodded absently. “Yeah, sure. But don’t forget about college prep. We can’t have you putting all your eggs in one basket.”

Elara nodded, though the words felt like a weight. They didn’t realize that for the first time, writing—her words, her stories—had opened a door she never thought would be available to her. She was starting to believe in herself in a way she hadn’t before. And it was hard not to feel resentful when they didn’t see it the same way.

The rest of the evening passed slowly. She sat in her room, the glow of her computer screen bathing her face in blue light. She re-read the finalist email over and over, a little stunned each time by the words. It felt like a dream.

As the clock ticked closer to midnight, Elara found herself unable to sleep. She kept turning over the idea of what it meant to be a finalist—to be one step closer to something real, something permanent.

She wasn’t just a girl scribbling stories in the dark anymore. She was a writer with something to offer. I can do this, she thought.

At 12:23 a.m., she closed her laptop and tucked herself into bed, but her thoughts were still racing. She wasn’t sure what came next, but for the first time, the future didn’t feel so distant. It felt like it was right there—just a few steps away.

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