I submitted this 1000 word short story to the Lofi Girl Spring writing contest a few weeks ago and unfortunately didn’t place in the Top 10. There were over 900 submissions, so I’m sure I was up against some tough competition, to say the least. But, it was a lot of fun and a good experience overall. Now I get to share it with all of you! Let me know what you think in the comments.

Lofi Girl turned the page in her notebook and froze. The page was blank, which hadn’t bothered her before, but its sprawling emptiness stretched out before her like a vast, empty desert. Her pen hovered over the white page for a long moment as if an invisible force prevented its descent. The once beautiful melodies that played softly in her headphones warped into indecipherable static and she couldn’t concentrate on the task at hand, the deadline she was trying to meet, or the people she was trying not to let down. She finally relented in her attempt at productivity. 

Dropping the pen and taking off her headphones, Lofi Girl sighed as she stared at the disappointing lack of progress before her. She closed the notebook and cringed at the soft crinkle of the spine. Normally when she closed the book, it was because she’d completed her story, not because of her inability to continue it. The sound had sprung up old feelings, reminders of why she’d started writing in the first place, and the welling up of that emotion could not be stopped. Her eyes watered and she blinked out the pestering liquid, which tickled her cheeks as they cascaded downward. 

“What’s wrong, Lofi?” came a voice from her window sill. It was Cow, her striped cat, and he’d stopped purring on his favorite perch to pad over to her. He was a chill cat, always lounging in her immediate vicinity. 

“I don’t know, Cow. I think I’ve got writer’s block or something. What if I’ve said all there is I can say? How do I keep on going if I never truly go anywhere?” Lofi Girl asked, barely giving Cow a glance. 

Cow sat on his haunches and looked at her with his large almond eyes, his tail flickering randomly to either side. He didn’t say anything, just stared at her without blinking. Lofi Girl noticed his uncharacteristic silence and finally met his gaze. 

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” 

Cow got up and stalked across the closed notebook and the laptop’s keyboard. “Come with me. I know just the thing.”

The two of them exited the residential building and joined the meandering souls of pedestrian traffic. Cow led the way, deftly winding between the giant moving pillars that were strangers’ legs. Lofi Girl hurried to keep up, feeling somewhat exposed outside of her comfortable writing space. She missed her headphones already, especially the soothing music which acted as armor to protect against life’s stressors. But the longer she walked, the more she became accustomed to nature's vibrant existence, the daily noises she’d normally heard from her open window now in full force all around her.

People smiled at one another as they sipped their afternoon coffees and teas, while others chatted on the phone with someone likely very distant but undeniably close in that tethered moment of wireless connection. Green leaves had returned to the trees and flowers were blossoming along the sidewalk. The breeze was gentle and felt good upon her neckline as it billowed through her hair and across her unguarded ears. It was nice to be outside. This was Spring after all. 

They traveled a few blocks and before long, Lofi Girl knew where Cow was taking her. They reached the central park’s rolling hills and sat along the lake populated with talkative ducks and geese. Migratory birds sang their stories overhead, returning from perilous, distant locales that even Lofi Girl had never dreamed of visiting. A couple of squirrels spiraled up a tree trunk to dart into the branches, disappearing for a second, only to reappear to continue their wild chase. 

Lofi Girl found herself smiling, then caught sight of Cow’s side eye. He looked away quickly, pretending to have been focused on a family walking their dog. 

“Is this what you wanted to show me, Cow?” she asked. “I’m not sure what to think.”

Cow didn’t respond immediately, but he eventually spoke without looking at her. “You questioned whether you had any more to say, Lofi. I simply wanted to show you that sometimes it isn’t what you have to say, but what the world is trying to tell you. Life is always speaking and explaining how she works, it’s up to you to listen to her and interpret what she means. Only then can you speak with confidence and help others along the way.”

Lofi Girl blinked a few times. “Wow, Cow, that was deep.” 

He looked at her and smiled, his whiskers bristling. “I know.”

They sat together for a while next to the calm lake in relative serenity, soaking up the warm rays of sunshine. Lofi Girl realized that faint music drifted to her from some unseen source. She looked around but couldn’t determine its origins. The wind picked up, the sun shone brighter and the birds chirped louder. It was in that veritable moment of revelation that she knew the world was playing her music aloud for all to enjoy, the sounds spreading like waves of happiness to lap upon the shores of her soul.

Lofi Girl stood. 

“Where are you going?” Cow asked.

“I’d like to get back home. If that’s okay with you?”

“Sure thing, Lofi. I was starting to miss my spot anyhow.”

Lofi Girl sat down in her chair. She opened the notebook to the page she’d been forced to leave blank and it glowed softly in the afternoon sun. She put on her headphones, the gentle beats still emanating from within. Cow hopped up onto the window sill and let his tail dangle. She’d thanked him on the way home, and he’d purred loudly the whole way back. 

Placing her chin in her palm, Lofi Girl picked up her pen which no longer felt like a lead weight in her grip. Instead, she imagined it as more of a fountain. A fountain filled with songs that needed to flow into the hearts of those willing to listen.

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Lofi Girl and the Songs of the World is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental or are made with the utmost respect.

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