Excerpt

It was a night like any other night, which meant that my neighbor Jonah and I were together, and it was late, and the air conditioner was still busted, and there were so many flies soaking in the heat of our bodies and collecting by the windowsill, that we lost count after thirty-something. We kept my bedside window wide open even though there was no screen. The wet air stuck to our bones like another skin. The crickets, undeterred, chirped a little song.

Jonah looked at me, then at the sky through the square window.

“Ugly, aren’t they?” he said.

“What, the flies?” I asked, my eyes slipping shut against the heat.

“The stars, idiot.”

“What’s wrong with the stars?”

Jonah coughed out a laugh. “I know stars, and these,” he said, flipping a finger in a vague upward direction, “sure don’t count.”

I made a humming noise at the back of my throat. I peeked an eye open, took in the dull pinpricks of light and the backdrop of bloodshot clouds and then Jonah. His eyes were trained on the sky, his dark hair matted with sweat.

I bit my lip. My chest ached.

I shouldn’t care what they did. They could sell the piano if they wanted. It wasn’t like I used it anymore.

Elane Kim

Elane Kim is a Korean American writer attending Harvard College. She is the author of Postcards (Bull City Press, 2022). The editor-in-chief of Gaia Lit, she is a 2023 U.S. Presidential Scholar, a 2022 Davidson Fellow in Literature, and the winner of the 2021 Columbia Journal Winter Poetry Contest. Her writing can be found in Poetry, Narrative Magazine, One Teen Story, and more. She is very happy to meet you.

Patrick Ryan on “Photoelectric”

Our last issue of One Teen Story for the year—and the final winner of our 2024 Teen Writing Contest—is “Photoelectric” by Elane Kim. This quietly powerful story depicts an intimate friendship surrounded by volatility. It also depicts two teens on the cusp of realizing the world isn’t going to take care of them. At its heart lies the question: What do you do when your dear friend is in trouble, and you can’t help them?

Elane Kim loves language. I get the sense that when she writes she’s like an adventurous cook, trying out new ingredients, experimenting with flavors just to see what happens—but in her case, it’s words she experiments with. Sounds. She writes with an ear for the way words connect, and she sometimes contorts those connections like taffy.

It bears mentioning that Elane is the only writer to win our Teen Writing Contest twice. Here, she’s the winner of our 18-19 category; in 2021, she won in the 13-15 category. We don’t hurt for submissions to the contest, by any means, so this speaks volumes to her talent. Congrats (again!) to Elane Kim, and we hope you enjoy “Photoelectric.”

Q&A by Patrick Ryan

PR: Where did you get the idea for “Photoelectric”?
EK: I think a lot of science is really poetic, despite the way that it is often framed as an effort to impose order on the world, whether through numbers or matrices or impossibly straight lines. I wanted to write a story that spoke to physics, uncertainty, and contradictions: the science that makes us rigid and messy, mechanical and full of wonder, human above all else.
PR: How long did the first draft of the story take you to write?
EK: I wrote the story in about four days, though I’d had a rough idea for it developing in my head for a few weeks beforehand. “A Piece of Him” seemed to come very naturally, like Alli opened up to me and laid bare her story.
PR: How long did the first draft of the story take you to write? Were there other drafts before you submitted it?
EK: I think I had some pieces that would evolve into the story lying around, but I had to take a few days to string them together in a way that felt right. Other drafts played around with giving the narrator a name or a clearer face, but I think the way the story ended up felt most true to its voice.
PR: This story has such a strong sense of menace, but all of the menacing takes place “off camera,” so to speak. Was that your intention from the get-go—to write a story about an abused teen but never show the actual abuse? What do you think is the effect of not showing the violence, for the reader?
EK: I think a lot of the story’s focus is on what lingers in the aftermath of violence—how it shapes the way people move, think, and speak. For the reader, I think this perspective creates a tension that mirrors the narrator’s own: a sense of both knowing and not knowing, an invitation for empathy. It asks the reader to engage actively with the story, to imagine the unseen and feel the weight of what’s unspoken. Here, the focus shifts to resilience, survival, and the small ways we piece ourselves back together.
PR: Tell us about your technique of stringing, aurally, syllables together so that a word is formed that bridges each of the sections. It’s the sort of thing some readers won’t notice, but once you see it, it’s fascinating. Why did you choose to do that?
EK: The writing process for me is very fragmentary: I string pieces together in ways that sound right, that mimic natural speech. The syllabic bridging came naturally as a way to tie the story’s fragments together. For me, it’s about creating a kind of resonance that lingers, even if readers don’t consciously notice it right away.
PR: Do you think you’ll ever write more about Jonah?
EK: Maybe! There’s a lot about him I’m still curious about.
PR: What did you do when you found out you were one of the winners of the One Teen Story Writing Contest? For the second time, I might add, since you won the contest in the 13-15 category back in 2021, making you the only person who’s ever won twice.
EK: It was very much a full-circle moment for me! Back in 2021, OTS made my voice as a young writer feel truly heard and seen. Since then, I’ve grown up a little, but being recognized this time feels just as rewarding and surreal as the first—like running into an old friend. I celebrated with a lot of excitement and a generous serving of dining hall cookies.
PR: What are you working on now?
EK: Right now, I am (unfortunately) working on getting through exams, but my first poetry book, which explores themes of science, vision, and Korean American identity, will be coming out in 2026!
PR: What’s the best piece of advice about writing you’ve ever heard?
EK: Tell your story the way you want it to be told. Keep your voice yours!