
ALT 3x3 collage, portrait size, from left to right: 1. close up of a snake-shaped headpiece 2. a knife stabbed through glass 3. nighttime cityscape 4. close-up of a silver revolver 5. close-up of a orange/red fire 6. close-up of a hood ornament of a black luxury car 7. a grand hallway with arches and statues 8. b&w image if a couple; the girl lies on a bed & the boy looks towards her 9. candid image of a boy looking sideways, captured in a mirror

ALT Project Sugar and Spice moodboard Top row: Black girl with afro wearing a chef uniform handling a loaf of bread; Black couple getting ice cream together; Black guy with dreadlocks and glasses Middle row: sheets of pastry dough with flour dusted rolling pin; "are you flirting or starting a fight" quote; choux pastry chef with yellow cream filing Bottom row: puff puff with powdered sugar and melted chocolate on top; different size bowls with flour, salt, eggs, and butter; columns of canelés on wooden board

ALT Moodboard collage with pictures of a couple in front of a large clock, a store of clocks, a couple kissing, a girl reaching for the stars, rusted clocks, a couple in historical clothing, a boy consoling a girl in a room, a sign that reads “I think we met before”, and a photo of an investigation board

ALT PITCH: After losing Omer, star pianist in their graduate orchestra and her fiancé, principal cellist Esmé strikes a deal to visit him in the afterlife and complete his final composition. The cost? Her ability to hear music. In a parallel reality built out of painful memories and unanswered prayers, Esmé tracks torn pages from Omer’s sheet music while devising a way to break the deal she’s made. But Hell is not forgiving. All the demons in her path are hungry, too. And only the emaciated linger as ghosts. Alone with a ruined piano, Omer is no longer the person she once knew.

ALT COMPS AND THEMES: Ghost Eaters by Clay McLeod Chapman One Yellow Eye by Leigh Radford King Sorrow by Joe Hill Konami's Silent Hill 2 self-destructive attempts to see a dead loved one grief, shame, and letting go music as magic, music as healing, music as a drug Faustian deals that require sacrifice to break otherworlds that are parallel to ours ghosts are dangerous sexual longing for the demon wearing your beloved’s face Hell is just a word

ALT WRITING SNIPPET: "Esmé," Not-Omer greets me, focused on arranging utensils. My name sounds unfamiliar in his deep voice. Like my favorite note on the cello, a deep D-flat, beautiful and welcoming in a lamenting, nostalgic way. I don't want to name the relief imbuing me, but I throw my arms around his neck. I can allow myself this, to bend my shape to his body and revel in his warmth. He hugs me, his hand on the back of my head, his chin on my crown. Exactly the way I need it, the way Omer would give it. The smell of Omer's cologne invades me, a sandalwood musk. It wafts from his clothes. This isn't right. I look into his glasses. Gold eyes. Of course, this isn't Omer and never will be. The cologne now strangles my breath—I will never have Omer again because he's dead, and he probably smells of rotting meat marinating in sour milk.
















































